CHAPTER 40 #2
As much as they’ve helped me, I know where I stand. If Wiz strips me of my colors, everyone here will no longer know me, so why talk to someone who may soon become a ghost to them?
Sadness washes over me, so I take another swallow of my beer. There is no forgiveness here. Only judgment.
I don’t have to wait long until I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I turn to see Sloth, the sergeant-at-arms, behind me.
Now that I’ve been around the Thorns, I can’t help but notice the contrast between her and Nails.
Sloth resembles an overweight pasty accountant, not a badass enforcer.
Nails exudes a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude, while Sloth puts off welcome wagon vibes.
Though, tonight, Sloth isn’t smiling when she says, “We’re ready for you.”
Ah, so this is how Wiz is going to play it. Send the sergeant-at-arms to escort the exile to her fate.
I stand and pick up my beer.
Sloth shakes her head. “I don’t think Wiz would want you to bring that.”
“Fine.” I put the bottle to my lips and chug the rest. With a bang, I slam it onto the bar. “Let’s go.”
Sloth’s eyes are comically wide, so I have to look away.
I’m uncertain where my bravado stems from, but this experience is becoming laughable.
A bunch of grown-ass women are sitting in the bar, watching this like it’s a damned soap opera.
My only offense is dating someone the club doesn’t approve of.
I know it’s more, but right now, it feels like a high school clique that’s allowing the mean girl, Wiz, to punish the rebel, me.
Sloth turns and walks toward the stairs to the loft, and I follow, not making eye contact with any of the patches. I can’t handle seeing the various reactions I’m sure I’d see. Compassion. Pity. Fear. Delight.
When we arrive at the top of the stairs, Sloth leads me to the private room.
Upon entering, I note the officers sitting behind the table at the front of the room.
I’m careful not to look at any of them, especially Edge.
A lone hard-backed chair sits about ten feet from them.
There’s no table. It’s deliberate to leave me exposed.
I’m surprised they don’t have a bright light shining on the chair.
I grin. Maybe I’ll have to suggest that to Wiz.
“Is there something funny?” Wiz says as I take my seat.
Her question surprises me since I expect this to be a formal gathering by the expression on the officers’ faces.
I meet her gaze instead of staring at her chin. “Was that question directed at me?”
Wiz’s eyes harden. “Let’s get on with this.”
It’s apparent she’s unhappy she let my grin get under her skin. I consider smiling again, but I’ve pushed my luck enough.
Wiz slams the gavel onto the table. It takes everything I have not to flinch, but Sloth and the Graces’ treasurer jump in their seats. Wiz shoots them a withering glare.
“This meeting is called to order under the bylaws of the Steel Graces Motorcycle Club. This tribunal concerns Shadow, full-patch member in good standing at the time of this hearing. The purpose of this hearing is to determine whether Shadow remains fit to wear the colors of the Steel Graces.”
There it is. I knew it was coming, but it still hurts. Yet I keep my face impassive.
Wiz turns to the Graces’ secretary. “Please read the statement of charges.”
The secretary steels her back, but I notice the paper in her hands is shaking.
“The member Shadow is charged with conduct unbecoming a member of the Steel Graces. Specifically, maintaining an ongoing personal and, even more detrimental, potentially romantic relationship with the president of the Iron Thorns Motorcycle Club, an organization whose values and activities are incompatible with this club.”
Potentially romantic. Is that my out? Does Wiz want me to deny the romantic relationship? We haven’t slept together, so does it qualify as romantic?
Yes. A million times yes. What I feel for Storm is romantic. The most romantic emotions I’ve ever felt.
“Please inform Shadow of her rights,” Wiz says to the secretary.
The secretary shuffles her papers. “You have the right to speak on your own behalf, to answer the charge, and to accept or contest any sanction imposed by this tribunal.”
Wiz stares at me for a beat before continuing. “This tribunal is not about emotion. It is about judgment, accountability, and protecting the Steel Graces’ name.”
Right. There are plenty of emotions bouncing off Wiz. Mostly anger.
“Shadow, how do you plead to the charge as stated?” Wiz says to me.
I study her before I say, “I do not agree with the charge.”
“Does that mean that you deny your connection to the Iron Thorns’ president?”
“No.” I sit up taller. “It means I do not agree with the charge.”
“Explain,” Wiz says in a professional tone, though I can see her anger seething.
“I do not agree with your characterization that the Iron Thorns’ president has poor values.”
Wiz sneers. “I see. You think Storm is a pillar of the community.”
“Yes, President.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Wiz snaps back.
Her professional veneer is falling off.
Edge glances at Wiz before she says, “I’d like to explore your relationship with the Iron Thorns’ president.”
I give her a slight nod.
“When was your first encounter with her?” Edge asks, lobbing me a softball.
Wiz is going to be furious.