East Four #3
Wow. Noma was correct. I was going to have my own club. “Does that mean… Is this part of Noma’s… Do I own this building?”
“Technically, I do, but yes, this is all yours. Legally, once some kinks are worked out.”
“Kinks? Why do I sense you downplaying what you’re up to again?”
“Because you’re learning me well?”
I smirked. “Mind explaining the true reality?”
He waved off my concerns. “Meh, just a little making sure your false identity has evaporated, yada-yada. Before falsifying where your old one has been, blah, blah, blah.”
This crazy old coot. Shaking my head endearingly, I said, “Okay, tell me more about this place.”
Styx walked to the bedroom next to mine.
It was to the left when facing the huge room.
“Here’s where I rest my noggin’.” It was another plain white room but definitely more lived-in.
A dirty ashtray on his nightstand. A TV remote.
Clothes over a chair… “Sorry for the mess.” He shut the door. “Been a little busy.”
At the door next to his, he reached for the handle but stopped. His hand hung there for a few seconds before he turned away to face the room. “Some of these rooms have belongings I haven’t, umm, removed yet.”
Fallen uncles… Dad…
Viewing the whole room, Styx pointed to the far left wall. “Over there, we were thinking new black couches, a bar, games—essential man shit. You know.”
Seeing some of this had already been coming to fruition with worn furniture, I imagined my uncles laughing, tossing back some brewskies, and hopefully creating great memories.
I must’ve appeared sad because Styx grabbed a shoulder. “Hey, or whatever you want in here.”
Not wanting him to think of his dead biker brothers, I mumbled an impossible request “A saltwater pool for my girlfriend?”
Styx laughed. “Now wouldn’t that be brilliant?
” Then he got back to the tour, pointing to a set of double doors with windows down a corridor, closer to the ‘church’ door.
“Main entrance, also bulletproof.” He walked us to the entrance of the corridor, then proceeded to shut another double-door entrance.
These doors were thick, heavy wood. No windows.
“In case a vehicle rams the first entrance, we have a backup plan.” He grunted, shutting the doors that looked to be from Viking days, then brought a massive rod iron bar down over them, locking the entrance shut.
“If someone wants in this bad and gets through, we’re fucked either way. ”
His dismissive shrug made me believe he had balls of steel, like the doors. I asked, “Have you ever been told you're insane?”
Styx delivered a proud smile. “I have, actually. Thanks for noticing.” He motioned to the upper parts of the tall walls. “Don’t need windows.”
“Oh shit!” I hadn’t even noticed all the TV screens with live feeds from outdoor cameras, all over the compound. This place may have been short on furniture, flooring beyond concrete, or any décor, but clearly, no expense was spared when it came to state-of-the-art security.
“But none of those TVs deliver football like that one.” He pointed to a big screen hanging on a wall in front of a weathered brown couch.
I couldn’t help but wonder how many nights he’d spent here, alone. “When not in Cali, is this where you’ve been?”
“Not for the first couple of years. Needed to lay low and recon. And—” His eyes were staring at the floor, but I knew they were seeing much more.
“And what?”
He squinted at me as if deciding on something. “Want to know where the bleach is stored?”
Sharply, I inhaled and held my breath. He’d been on a killing spree. I growled, “Hey, you better have left Dad’s murderers for me.”
Walking toward the left corner of the large room, he rolled his eyes. “My son. So, fuck off.”
I followed him, pissed. “My dad, so I want blood.”
Dismissively, he waved a hand at me in the air behind him. “Don’t worry. Gramps is only one man, so a few got away to breed more.”
Apparently, I was joining the party of the insane because I gave a curt nod and said, “Good,” happy that some revenge was still mine to have. “Where’s the bleach?”
In a kitchen area, Styx pointed to a white cabinet. The only one. “White for bleach. Made sense to me.” The rest of the cabinets were a beautiful wood like the main Viking doors.
My head bobbed. “Makes sense to me, too.”
He guided me to a commercial refrigerator and freezer. The fridge had some glass in the doors, so he pointed, announcing, “Beer,” like a caveman. “‘Nough said.” He touched the freezer. “Nuke-dinners.” Then he gestured to a massive freestanding stove. “Commercial-grade to handle feeding everyone.”
Peering about, I didn’t have the heart to tell the old man this was a two-man crew. According to what he said outside, he was raised by a biker but hadn’t always been one himself. “Was your dad a part of a clubhouse like this?”
Without another word, he reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. “Not exactly.”
“Sore subject?”
He guzzled the beer, then went to a large piece of wood resembling a table over some sawhorses and started rearranging some tools.
Lots to be heard in silence.
I pondered, then asked, “So, the biker world hasn’t always owned your heart?”
That got his attention. As he studied me, I felt a wall lower.
He finally said, “No, it hasn’t.” Mindlessly, he fiddled with a hammer. “Because of my father’s actions, I thought bikers were only for committing crimes.”
Hoping it would unite us a little more and keep him talking to me, I grabbed myself a beer. Opening it, I asked, “So, uh, what changed your mind?”
Styx eyed the beer, smirking. “Silly little rabbit is getting smarter.”
Acting as if clueless to his meaning, I took a swig, praying he wouldn’t shut down.
He didn’t. “What changed my mind, huh? That day on the john boat.”
Yes, tell me more. I waltzed over and plopped on the couch. My ass practically hit the floor because the couch was possibly a hundred years old, I paid it no mind and propped my feet on top of an upside-down bucket that once held mortar.
A willing victim of my trickery, he perched on a stool that had ripped, long ago, from how the material appeared.
“As his blood dripped in the boat, and I learned the error of my ways, all I had left to do was beg. ‘I’ll do anything if you spare him. I’m sorry if I broke any rules having him, but he is special.
Please don’t take him from me.’ Thankfully, he listened.
Or better yet, he read me and seemed to know I was speaking the truth, knowing I would do anything for Lennox. ”
Styx stared at me.
I couldn’t move a muscle, feeling I was on the cusp of a huge reveal. The only thing moving was my mind, thoughts racing…
Suddenly, I thought of Harmony’s book. The one she gave me. The one about… “River Styx.”
Styx seemed surprised at the mention. His head drew back. “Huh, didn’t see that coming.”
“I came across a book on Greek mythology.” Like a mouse in a lab trying to pass a course for a piece of cheese, my mind continued to search for connections.
The book had read things like… Journey to the underworld…
Price to be paid… “The river, the water, binding together souls with divine oaths—” I peered up at Styx on the stool. “Oh shit.”
One-percenter biker clubs are all about oaths and unbreakable brotherhoods.
My lungs threatened to seize. “The clubhouse on a peninsula. One way in. One way out.”
Appearing aged from the weight he’d carried for years, he sighed. “Except for swimming or a boat, but you will need a ladder, either way.” He shrugged, attempting humor. “Or a flying mermaid.”
I wanted to laugh because his ill timing was, indeed, becoming humorous, but what had been his vow? “How deep does your promise to that… merman… go?”
Styx looked and sounded sad when he said, “Until I die.”