7. Gator
Chapter seven
Gator
According to the clock on my nightstand, it’s a little before seven am, and I pull myself out of one of the best things I’ve ever experienced.
I laid in bed last night, surrounded by my woman and son, just enjoying the peace of watching them.
It was my first time getting an uninterrupted view of my son, something I’m sure most fathers are afforded on the day their child is brought into the world.
Even if I had known about him, I would still have been in prison the day he was born.
Fijor slept in the middle of Emma and me in our Alaskan king-sized bed.
He looks so much like me, but his nose is definitely his mother's. He’s so perfect, and I almost missed out on it all.
I took turns watching him sleep and watching his beautiful mother.
I would stretch my arm over Fijor and do the same for Emma, brushing my finger softly across her face to make sure she was still there and that this wasn’t just a cruel dream.
The love I have for them both outweighs any emotion I’ve ever felt. I’ll do anything to keep this.
If my plan is going to work, I need to recruit my sister quickly before little man wakes up. I walk into the kitchen, start a pot of coffee, and dial Harley. She answers on the fourth ring, still groggy from sleep.
“What the fuck are you doing calling me this early, big brother?” Always the morning person with this one.
“Orange juice,” I say to her. It’s a code word we made up as kids, a secret forged over years of sneaking around and covering for each other.
Whenever one of us says those words, it means all bets are off: I need her to either do me a favor or cover my ass, no questions asked until everything calms down.
It’s a promise to look out for each other, no matter the situation.
That code has gotten us out of more trouble than I can count, especially when the parental figures were breathing down our necks.
Whether we were hiding evidence of a late night, making excuses for a busted curfew, or just needing help getting through the messes we made, “orange juice” meant trust and loyalty.
Even now, all these years later, that one phrase still carries the weight of every memory and every pact we made.
When I say it, she knows exactly what I need: her support, no judgment, just like always.
I hear her pull the phone away from her mouth and mumble obscenities. “I’m in, but remember I have Cole.”
“That’s fine. I took Allie to the hospital around midnight last night.
I think Grandma is going to see Dad and the baby, and then she’ll bring Allie back home.
But listen, shit hit the fan last night.
Long story short, Emma’s back. Sis, her son is mine.
His name is Fijor, and I have to come clean at church in an hour.
” She knows the repercussions of touching what I haven’t asked permission to touch.
“After that, I’ll need to make sure Emma and I are on the same page.
We hashed a little bit of it out last night, but I still want to make sure we are on the same page. She won’t be leaving.”
“Oh, Trey,” I hear her cry. “I have a nephew. I’ve missed Emma so much while she’s been gone. I have so many questions about why she didn’t say anything. What do you need from me?”
“I need you to come over and pick up Fijor while she’s asleep.
I’m hoping to be back before Emma wakes up.
Feed him breakfast, all that shit. Get to know the kid.
You’re his aunt. We’ve already missed enough time.
We’ll come get him later this afternoon.
” A smile tugs at my face as I think about the little family I’ve acquired in just a few short hours.
“Done. Are you at home?”
“I am. Head over now.”
“I’m on my way.” With that part of my plan secured, I throw on a clean shirt and jeans, slam down a cup of coffee, and head to the clubhouse. I would have taken a shower, but I didn’t want to risk waking Emma and throwing a wrench in my plan.
***
I walk into church and roll a joint. I smoke it as the others start to file in.
I work on a second cup of coffee I had one of the prospects grab for me between tokes.
“Let’s start. I want to thank each and every one of you for coming in so early.
Beaver, why don’t you relay to the brothers what Emma said when she got here last night?
” I finish the joint and smoke my first cigarette of the morning.
As I said, Caffeine, Nicotine, THC, and pure fucking will are what today is brought to you by.
He relays the conversation he had with his daughter last night, and by the end, the men are seething with rage.
Hearing him speak Snake’s name makes my body vibrate with the deep desire to hunt his ass down and mount his head on my mantle.
That might be traumatic for Fijor, so probably can’t do that exact plan… we can workshop it.
“There’s more.” I finish my cigarette and put it out.
I square my shoulders and look Beaver directly in the eyes, giving him every ounce of respect he deserves, as I tell him and the club that I betrayed him but regret nothing.
“Fijor is my son.” I see blind fury cross his face a nanosecond before tears well in his eyes.
I began, and it all just came tumbling out.
Everything I had kept locked inside me for years was free.
“Before I went to prison, Emma and I were dating. The night before I was sent away, we decided I would start construction on our house here on the compound. I asked her to stay, and she agreed. I told her I would come clean to you and the club. At first, we wanted to keep it secret in case it didn’t work out.
I should have come to you like a man from the start, but because you're so close with pops, we didn’t want to create tension.
We wanted to develop our relationship and see where it was headed before involving anyone else.
Beaver, I love your daughter. I always have.
If you let me have her, I’ll make sure she and Fijor want for nothing.
But you'll have to allow me to do it my way. I’m asking for your permission to make her my ol lady officially in the club's eyes—out of respect—but make no mistake, they are mine and won’t be leaving us again.
I had no idea Fijor was mine, or I would have tracked her ass down the second I got out of lockup.
Hell, she would have been living here on the compound the entire time I was away.
I broke things off with her because I thought I was doing the right thing.
With all that time hanging over my head, Emma was young.
She had no right throwing her life away for me. ”
He lights his cigarette, then sits in silence for a moment, and the entire table falls quiet.
Everyone understands he has the right to kick my ass.
Hell, under the right circumstances, my patch could be stripped from me.
“Fuck, son, I wish we'd known from the start. It would've made things easier for all of us, including her. I’ve been sending her money, but she’s been doing it on her own. The only thing Donna can do is bitch about not getting what Emma is owed from, and I quote, “the sperm donor.” I’ve thought many times about bringing her back here, but whenever I mention it, she shuts down.
I didn’t want to push her away. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have suspicions.
The Anderson bloodline runs strong, and Fijor is no exception.
Can’t say I mind the idea of sharing a grandchild with the big fucker.
Ever since Fijor was born, I’ve told him he'd love being a grandfather. The thing is, when your closest friend of forty damn years is lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life, you get angry and sentimental.”
My throat tightens with emotion at the thought of my dad missing the chance to meet my son. Beaver nods in understanding and clears his throat as if he's reading my mind. “Is this plan of yours going to mean they both stay here permanently?”
“Without a doubt,” I say with absolute certainty.
“I like the idea of them being on the compound so I can watch Fijor grow up. If you hurt her, I’ll fucking cut off your dick and feed it to Henry as you watch. We clear on that, son?”
“Crystal, sir.”
“Good, now that’s settled.” He stands, stubbing out his cigarette, then reaches out a handout to grasp mine.
I stand to shake his hand when Beaver cold clocks me right in the kidney with his ham bone-sized fist. “Can’t have you meeting your son with a busted face.
Cross me again, and I’ll put you six feet under.
Your dad will understand if I kill you; he has a daughter, too.
You'd better make it right by her, boy. I want her with a patch on her back and your last name on her driver's license. Do you understand me? My daughter will be a married woman if she is living under your roof.”
“Yes, sir.” I guess it could have gone worse. I’m lucky to still have all my teeth and my life intact. That’s for sure. Maybe life has decided it's done kicking me in the dick every chance it gets.
As the tension faded, it gave way to an even tougher subject.
I paused, letting my gaze sweep the room, taking in every face.
Officers from our other chapters filled our church with their kuttes and patches, underscoring the wide reach of our brotherhood and the size of our force across the nation.
Some leaned forward, elbows resting on worn tables, eyes fixed on me with wary curiosity; others sat back, arms crossed, sizing me up, waiting to see what kind of leader I’d be.