Chapter 4
Flint
It’s been a few days since Jules came to stay.
Tommy and I are at the clubhouse today for church.
Our club is in fuckin’ crisis right now because my cousin Mica resigned to strike out on his own.
Sure, the club he’s founding will be an ally with ours, but it was a shocking, devastating loss, nonetheless.
I’m standing with Tommy, near the front of the building. He’s anxious, like everyone else around the clubhouse today. He runs one hand down his face and asks, “Are you sure now is the right time?”
“Jasper’s put word out that we needed to swell our ranks. If he’s asking for men to patch in this is a good time to nominate you.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says nervously. He’s been jumpy all morning. He’s got his hands crammed into his front pockets and is staring intently at the gate.
“Look Tommy, I don’t know why you’re angsting about this. When I spoke about it with Jasper, he seemed keen. They took you off gate duty today. Prospects man the gate, not fully patched brothers. That should tell you something right there.”
Glancing up at me, he jerks his chin. “I already know all that. I just have a bad gut feeling. You know it’s never wrong.”
He’s not wrong about that. Tommy is the man who walked point through villages where half the doorways had wires running out of them. He always knew when something wasn’t right.
“This time will be the exception,” I assure him. “You know we lost several members to Mica’s club. We need new members. You’ve been prospecting for a fucking year. You’re ambitious. You’ve showed up, proven your worth, and never once broken code. Trust me, this is your moment. You’re a shoo-in.”
The tightness in his shoulders relaxes, as he turns to face me, and a grin finally spreads over his face. “You’re right. I’ve been working my ass off for this club. I just can’t believe it’s finally happening.”
Tommy lowers himself onto the concrete steps of the front porch and stretches his legs out in front of him.
Gazing at his boots for a second, he mutters, “Not being chained to that damn gate is gonna feel weird. Protecting this clubhouse was my one and only goal for an entire year. What with working at the shop full time, I practically spent every free hour here to get my hours in.”
“I get that. I felt the same way at one time. But once you’re wearing a patch, you have to put petty shit like that behind you. Part of the transition is figuring out how you fit as a patched brother.” I tease him.
“It’s alright for you, the officers are your cousins,” Tommy says.
I shake my head. “Family don’t get no favors. I had to prospect same as anyone else.”
“I’m glad you invited me to prospect for the Sons of Rage. This club has become a big fuckin’ part of my life.”
“After being discharged from the military, we both need to be part of something larger than ourselves. Having a brotherhood fills a hole that being in the military left behind.”
I pull out the lighter that saw me through the war and my time as a prospect. Flicking the lid open and closed is a small ritual, one I reserve for when I’m anxious and want to hide it. All his talk about having a bad gut feeling is making me feel some kind of way.
Tommy gets lost in his thoughts again. I know he’s worrying again. I take his mind off it by asking about his sister. “Did you talk to Jules before you left the house this morning?”
“Yeah, she was up before me. I found her sketching at the kitchen table while the coffee was brewin’.” He pauses and then lowers his voice. “Some of the shit she sketches freaks me out.”
I nod, already knowing where this is going with this disclosure
“Those scenes from the night that guy got shoved into the trunk are so vivid. The dude’s facial expression is terrified as hell. You can see the naked fear plain as day. She should be doing police sketches because she nails their fucking faces, all of them.”
I nod slowly, watching as dozens of brothers begin showing up for church. “Does she still talk about what happened that night?”
“No, she doesn’t. She just pretends everything is fine.” He rests his forearms on his thighs and stares at me.
“She’ll talk when she’s ready,” I assure him, even though I’m not sure I believe it myself. “She’s always kept her thoughts to herself. Remember when your momma died? She kept all her grief to herself.”
“Yeah, mom died when Jules was home from school for a teacher workday. She kept saying I wouldn’t understand.”
“People are different. You can’t make her share shit with you if she doesn’t want to.”
“Yeah, stop tellin’ me what I already know.”
“If you ask me, you and your sister are just alike. You didn’t tell her what I did to you in the military.”
His face contorts into an annoyed frown. “Stop fucking going on about that, Flint. It was a goddamn accident and nothing more.”
Before I can respond, Jinx pulls in on his Fat Boy, parking right beside us. When our sergeant-at arms gets off his bike, he thumps Tommy hard on the shoulder without slowing his stride towards the clubhouse door.
“See?” I tell him, trying to lighten the mood. “Nobody claps a dead man walking on the shoulder like that. You’re fine.”
“You are a real fuckin’ comfort, Flint. I can see why people pay you for emotional support.”
“I wish that was true. It sounds like something that would be a fuckin’ amazing side gig.”
Slate leans out of the front door and yells, “Attention you feral fucks, time to get your asses inside. Church starts in five minutes. Club members only today.” Then our VP steps back, disappearing inside without another word.
I slide my lighter back into my pocket and begin walking up the steps. “I’ll come out and get you when it’s time to trade out that prospect’s cut for one with a bottom rocker.”
Inside the main room of the clubhouse, the club girls are flitting around, preparing for the after party that always happens after church on Saturdays.
The party will last all day and into the night.
My club brothers and I will eat, drink, shoot pool, bitch about politics, and enjoy a club girl or two before passing out in a drunken stupor.
The brothers are moving towards the room where we hold church, and I join them.
There are too many of us to fit around a table, so there are rows of chairs and a long table for the club officers up front.
Jasper takes his place in the center of the table, with Slate on his right and Onyx on his left.
Rock and Jinx bracket the trio on each end.
Rock stepped down a while back as club president and Jasper took the gavel, but he’s our club’s founder he’ll always be entitled to a place at the head table.
The rest of us scramble around to find an open seat. I end up sitting beside Rivera, Slate’s battle buddy from the military. He’s the only dude I know whose club name is his actual name.
Jasper bangs the gavel once and the thump resonates around the room. “Let’s get down to business.”
Jasper goes through old business and then opens the discussion for new business.
“Onyx, tell us what the fuck is going on with the club businesses and the finances.”
Onyx has been doing double duty since Mica left, and I can tell he’s not happy about it by the way he frowns as he walks us through last month’s business issues and then talks about the club’s financial situation. He finally ends with, “The good news is we’re in the black again this month.”
Then Slate, our club VP, updates us on a run planned for the end of next month that Jasper asked him to set up.
I’m only half listening to their reports because it’s good information to have, but I’m waiting to nominate my best friend for his patch.
Jasper announces, “Our last piece of business tonight is the nomination of prospects. Flint, would you like to go first.”
I come to my feet and make sure my voice is loud and clear, so brothers in the back can hear everything I have to say.
“I wanna nominate TJ. He’s been prospecting with us for a full year.
We need patches and he’s never let us down.
In terms of putting all our cards on the table, I’ll tell you all right now that he’s my best friend and we own a business together.
It’s one reason I wanted to wait until he hit his one-year mark to nominate him.
He’s never broken code and kept the wolves from our door all year long.
I trust him not only with my own life, but all of yours too. ”
Jasper’s voice rings out, “We have a nomination on the table for TJ. Do I have a second.”
Rivera immediately speaks up, “I second the motion. TJ’s good people. He’s more than earned our patch.”
“Does anyone else have anything to say before we take it for a vote?” Jasper asks.
Slate clears his throat, leaning forward with both hands on the table. “I’ve got nothing bad to say about TJ. He shows up early, he leaves late, he does what’s asked of him without complaint, and I’ve never once had to remind him of anything twice. That’s a good prospect in my book.”
“He’s helped me with the inventory more than once this quarter,” Onyx adds, flipping through his notebook. “He’s good with paperwork, pays attention to details, and doesn’t get his feelings hurt when I ask him to redo something. That’s enough to get him my vote.”
Jasper looks around the table with his eyebrows slightly raised. “If anyone has a problem with TJ now’s the time to speak up.”
When no one speaks up, I relax. It seems like the room is genuinely in agreement that TJ’s a good fit for the Sons of Rage MC.
“Alright then,” Jasper says, picking his pen back up.
“Let’s vote. Everyone in favor, say aye.
” The resounding reply from the brothers is truly heartwarming.
Everyone that I can see has his hand up in the air and they’re all saying aye.
Something in my chest loosens. I slowly lower my hand as Jasper asks, “What about nays?”