Chapter 2
Nash
R egret didn’t set in until after walking down a few blocks, replaying everything that happened.
What the fuck did I just do?
I seriously did that. I set myself free, and in the ashes I planned to rebuild.
I called Memphis the moment I was free, the crashing sensation of not knowing what my next steps were causing me to crumble, mentally and physically. I had no back up plan. I had no way of helping the family anymore.
The only thing I had to my name was my dignity and the savings that I accrued over the years.
“So you set fire to your past and are ready to move on.” His melodic, bass voice rang through my phone.
“What the fuck am I to do? A former rising music artist in a town that is also crawling with them. I have no other skills other than manual labor,” I grunted out, while on my bike, on the sidewalk by one of the city parks.
“Afraid to mess up your pretty face?” My little brother laughed.
If it wasn’t for the fact that he was in Raleigh, I’d would’ve kicked his stupid ass.
“No, what I’m afraid of is that there are too many others like myself.”
“Like yourself?” he questioned. That’s what Memphis did, he turned on that brilliant mind and rode along with you.
I sighed, darting my eyes around the sight of little families laughing and smiling and young teens by their lonesome keeping to themselves. “People who are talented enough that are left unprotected and used up until they aren’t of use. It’s not right.”
“What? You want to be like a vigilante or something, staying in the shadows, coming to their rescue?” he continued to question.
“I want to take back this town, our town, and bring life back, run the city like it’s ours,” I finally said. I wanted the power back. I wanted people to be afraid of trying to take away or run a dream that wasn’t theirs.
Memphis was quiet, a little too quiet for him. I didn’t know if the man was shocked or out of words.
“Brother, you still there?”
He sighed. “It sounds like I may know a way that would help.”
“Care to tell me, or do I need to beg you to do it?”
“You ain’t never begged for anything; why start now, superstar?”
I rolled my eyes.
I waited for him to say something, anything. Mama would be so proud to know her oldest son was looking for help from the youngest son. If Mama could hear this conversation, she’d slap me on the back and say “about damn time you listen to him.” I was hardheaded, I knew that, and I liked things a certain way.
“You’re killing me here, Memphis,” I softly said. Desperation clouded my voice.
He broke the silence. “I may know some people that could help you.”
“Help me? Like get me a job?” I asked. I was worried that things would run dry, and I’d be behind.
“How about making your plan a reality,” he answered. “It may take a few phone calls, and a favor but I think it will help you. Maybe help with your trust issues.”
I winced at his implication, “I don’t have trust issues,” I snapped back.
“Really? So if you had to put blind trust and faith into a new group, you’d follow their lead, their rules, you’d trust them? In the end, to make your ideas a reality, and perhaps one day lead, allowing people to do things their way…” he returned to questioning me.
If you want it done right.
“I don’t have trust issues,” I grumbled. The words haunted my mind, after everything that had been in my path.
“I’m serious, the shit the studio pulled on you and what else they may have had in store, I understand. But if you’re fucking serious about your cause, taking back the city, protecting the dreams of artists, and supporting your family, I might have the answer.”
He wasn’t wrong. Not completely.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe you need people with power for the future?” he said plainly.
“Like the metaphor, like superheroes? What? You think I need business people with power?” I might have been overthinking it.
If an eye roll could be heard over the phone, it was then. “No, I mean you need to look into a club like mine.” Memphis was in one in North Carolina, but he had said that they weren’t going to expand, at least not anytime soon.
“How the fuck is that going to work?” I yelled, only to look around to see if anyone else heard the craziness.
“If you’d let me explain, before jumping my throat.” He groaned, “I said that it would take a few phone calls, and I meant it. Rawlings, my Prez, knows a club that expanded over there. I mean if you’re open, you’d prospect, prove your loyalties, and then build on your idea; a safe place for artists. I can’t promise anything,” he explained.
Another MC around here? Maybe I was blind to it, I never saw anything.
I thought about Pop’s old club and that everything was disbanded.
“You really think that’s a good idea? Getting involved with a club? Aren’t there rules about legacies or whatever?” I retorted.
“If you plead your case and interest, they may be open.”
“Oh yeah, a washed up, angry music star turning to a motorcycle club that one day hopes to help the community or the very least, take back what we are owed.” The ideas were stupid. No one was going to be that open to an idea. It’s about money and power.
I didn’t have a true mind for business, but I had the passion to fight for power.
“You are the most creative bastard I have ever met. You can convince anyone, throw your charm. You bring to the table your intentions, show them that you mean business. That’s if I can get you a meeting.” Memphis was trying.
The poor sap of my brother with the bleeding heart.
I tossed around the idea. I was going to let fate choose for me. If Memphis were to get me a meeting then I’d entertain the idea and plan for the future and if not, I’d have to wait and see.
The Memphis chapter of the Saint’s Outlaws MC was founded in 1998. They had settled and kept a lower profile. At least I didn’t know they were in the area. And when Memphis worked a miracle and by the good graces of the chrome gods, I met with the Saint’s Outlaws president at the time. And honestly, I was scared shitless.
They raised good questions. “Why now, pretty boy? Just because you know a person who knows a person, doesn’t mean jack shit.”
Memphis gave me a warning about what the process might be like to be a part of this club, but with how my life turned up, I was craving a change, and a way to take back the power over my life.
“Because there’s something about power that was taken from me, and I want a second chance for that, but I have to earn it. But I’m not the only one, this whole community as you’ve seen thrives on each other like artists, culinary arts, and history intact. And when outsiders get a hold of it and take from people, problems start arriving. One day it might come to the chapter, and then what? If you don’t have like minded people, people who know this area truly and what it would take to keep the power in balance and in your hands, what happens? I hope to help do that for you, when I prove my loyalty to the chapter, to the club.”
They started to tell me that I was too young, or that my “cute” speech didn’t tell them enough for my reason. They even attempted to tempt me with being a nomad after prospecting until I was ready. I wasn’t ready to leave my city.
When they repeated the question about why, then told me that I would be the only one that could see what I was talking about, I finally let loose.
I sighed. “Because I think I can help you with making more legit businesses that will help the community as well, creative souls that can become a part of the chapter, and help cover anything. Showing those that the Saint’s own this city.”
They looked at me like I was crazy, either that or they were actually considering what I had to say at that moment.
“You think I’m the only misunderstood, disgraced artist around here, people who are sick that the community is flooding with even more shady people, taking over things for monopolies? There’s a number of people that you can band together and they’ll show the town of blues that they’ll sing their tune if you let them. Hell, they’ll help rule this town if anything.”
They thought for a moment before they finally told me, “You’re lucky that you come recommended. You do realize that it’s not that simple. You may have ideas, but it’s going to take time, and you don’t get a voice in the beginning. The club didn’t get far without a fight, a fight that you can’t fathom.”
I replied with a widest grin because I knew the path that was ahead of me, and I started to believe that I would pay any price to one day make the club a true power name, one that would shut down anyone. One that fear would drip from the souls that attempted to cross us. I was young, a dreamer, and an angry soul.
With a curve of their smile, we shook on it and I was going to begin something new, something in my control. For once, I was back with my voice.
Before they left, one of the members embraced me, with a pat on the back, and said, “Sounds like a little hound dog is finding his bite.”
The name stuck with me.
From there on, a new image began to form.
Before they left, they tasked me with showing them my loyalty by getting an additional soul on board, to prove to them that there was a band of people that shared why I wanted my reasons for wanting to be an Outlaw and what I saw in the community.
I had one person in mind. One that would charm the pants off of anyone, one that I could count on, and would step in to pick up the fight with me.
There were a couple of people I knew that would be on my side, a couple outlaws ready for a higher purpose.
I walked into a particular bar one night and saw a happy, go-lucky man tossing drinks like it was his art, Connor Davidson. The charismatic blues singer knew how to turn on the charm and the soul, but unfortunately was burned a few too many times, literally and unfortunately physically.
I grabbed his attention and he flashed a wide smile in my direction. I nodded to the back of the bar, he followed suit. I picked the most private table, one I could find in the busiest time of the place.
Connor walked toward me with a beer in his hand. “It’s on the house.”
“Like I was going to pay.” I laughed, giving him a brotherly embrace.
Connor and I met in the wrong place at the right time. Well, depending on who was telling the story.
When I was testing the waters of the music scene and taking chances on different establishments, I made the wrong choice and booked myself in a blues lounge. I didn’t know it at the time and when I went to the bar, a blonde, heavily tattooed, suave man greeted me.
At first I thought the man was coming on to me, flirting with me. But I later found out it was just his personality, a way to get people to trust him easily and ultimately get his way a time or two. When he told me that I looked like I didn’t belong there, I was on the verge of laying the man on the floor at his insinuation.
He slid a drink in my direction and told me to look around. Only when I did, my eyes were opened to what type of establishment it was, a genre that I had no interest on doing.
As I attempted to leave, after being utterly embarrassed, Connor thought he would fuck with me and called my name to the stage. I tried to get him to take back my name but the bastard thought I was joking with him. When he ultimately realized that it was true that I made a mistake, he turned it into an impromptu performance for himself and having me as his accompaniment.
After that we became fast friends, where most days it was him being a sounding board to things going on with the studio.
“What can I do for you? According to my Nash Young calendar you should be finishing up new songs,” Connor joked with me.
I gave him a half somber look at the mention of the studio. It had only been two weeks, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Connor thought I was still joking. But I think when he saw that I avoided any new news about the progress of the new album or anything about the studio, he shut up.
“Brother, what happened?” he asked. His voice grew worried.
I simply shook my head, reminding myself that what was done was done. “Nothing that wasn’t already a plan in the making.”
“Oh my God, you finally left. You put your big boy pants on and walked away.” He started back up with his antics, pretending to wipe a tear away from him. “I’m so damn proud of you!”
I sipped on the beer in front of me and avoided his eye contact. “Oh no, what the fuck you do now?”
“I left, but probably almost killed someone due to setting a fire in the studio.”
“You torched the place?”
“Cleansing by fire.”
Connor just laughed it off, like it was the most normal thing to do. “So now what? What’s next?”
“How about prospecting for a motorcycle club chapter with me?”
He cocked his head, assessing to see if I had gone mental, if he heard what I just said correctly. The bar’s noise grew in our silence. Connor stared at me like he was waiting for me to tell him it was a joke and I just missed seeing him.
When my face became serious, his own laughter stopped. “You’re not kidding.”
“Nope.”
“And that’s what’s next? A club.”
“Connor, what would you say if you could take back something that was taken from you and your name was more feared and respected than looked down on?”
It was no secret that Connor hadn’t performed in a long time, but he still cared about others doing what they love.
“I’d say that it’s a pipe dream.”
“What if it wasn’t a dream, but reality knocking at your door?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Nash, what good would it do?”
I looked at him dead in his eyes, all faith and seriousness in my voice. “The good would be taking back the city that is built on dreams and history, taking back the power to control the music, the art here. The good is we protect those that want to start here and be what they want, but gain more in our favor.”
“So this is about money?” he questioned me.
I couldn’t lie to him. “Partially yes, but money is power these days. But you and I both know what it’s like when you get screwed by the people who hold your future in the palms of their hands and dangle it like it’s a carrot and you’re the fucking rabbit.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was tossing the idea back and forth. He took one glance between the bar and the busy crowd, then looked me back in the eyes.
“What’s next?” he asked.
After that night, it was like the path was paved in the right direction.