Epilogue
One Year Later
“Can’t believe we’re dragging out these boxes again,” Python gripes as he hoists a box of Halloween decorations on his shoulder.
“I can’t believe Dakota’s gonna be a year old in a few days.” I lift up the other box and groan. “They feel heavier than they did last year.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a fuckin’ old man.” Python laughs around his words.
“Blow me.” I flip him off and head to the back end of the basement.
We drop the boxes on a table in our newly decorated speakeasy. “One year and we finally got the place up and running.”
“Just in time for our opening night. The women were worse than Cobra when it came to meeting the deadlines of this place.”
My mind skitters back to last year and all the bullshit with the Nomads, then the hurdles I had to climb to overcome the guilt in my head.
With the help of my brothers, Daisy, and Dr. Stevens, I finally realized I can’t control the good shit in my life, and I certainly can’t control the bad either.
Doesn’t mean I don’t try, but the overwhelming anxiety has lessened to tolerable.
“At least this year we don’t have to dress up.” I told Daisy right off there was no way I was dressing up and channeling any spirits from the past. Not that I believe in that shit, but you never know.
“Agreed.” Python throws back his massive shoulders. “Although, I do think I made a great Jesse James.”
“Of course Rattler couldn’t resist when his Serafina suggested he dress like Lucky Luciano.”
“Swear to fuck, he should’ve been an actor.” Python laughs.
“He’s got the attitude for it; that’s for damn sure.”
Python slaps me on the back. “And tonight your son becomes a Serpent.”
“Fuckin’ hard to believe.”
“Hey, the kid earned it. Saving Daisy from that Nomad and all the shit we put him through the past year as a prospect.” Python laughs.
“I can still see him out in the lot picking up garbage.” He cocks his head.
“I guess now that he’s getting his patch, I’ll have to go back to walking Kobi again.
” He strokes Kobi’s head, his prized black German shepherd and constant companion.
“Yeah,” Rattler lugs in two cases of vodka and stores them behind the bar, “the kid is solid, and he’s already contributed to the club’s finances by working in your shop.”
“I’m just glad none of you went easy on him ‘cause he’s my kid. I wanted him to get the full experience of being a prospect with all the shit jobs.”
“Ohhh, there were plenty of those.” Python snickers. “I had him cleaning up piss and puke at Ecstasy on a regular basis.”
“Along with cleaning out the beer taps, the keg lines, and scraping the muck under the bar upstairs,” Rattler adds. “ Ohhh yeah, don’t worry, we didn’t make it too easy on him.”
“This way we know it’s something he really wants.”
“Hey, you can’t fight it.” Rattler comes around the bar. “It’s in his blood.”
Rattler was right about that. My old man was the prez of the Raiders back in New York. He was a drunk and an addict and taught me everything not to do by watching him.
“I’m heading out.” I throw them a two-finger salute. “See you tonight.”
“And for fuck’s sake, don’t fall down any stairs this year,” Python calls after me.
Good news—I’d been up and down these basement stairs a few times a day over the past year with all the renovations of the private room, and there’d been no weird noises or vibrations.
Bad news—Python bringing it up jolts my nerves and brings back all the crazy shit from last year.
When I get home, Deana, now six, is sitting on the couch reading one of her princess books, which amazes the shit outta me. Her teacher said she’s reading on a third-grade level even though she’s only in first grade. I contribute it to Daisy reading to her since she was a baby.
In the kitchen, Dakota bangs her spoon against the tray of her highchair as Daisy hustles around getting her dinner ready.
I wrap my arms around her from behind. “Hey, you look a little frazzled.”
“Maybe you can convince your daughter dinner is almost ready. She seems to have an impatient streak just like her father.”
“Why don’t you finish getting dressed for the party, and I’ll take over here?”
“Sounds wonderful.” She touches her hair up in a messy bun. “I still have to shower and do my hair. ”
“You always look beautiful to me, babe,” I call after her as she jets out of the kitchen.
Dakota’s banging grows louder, and I think Daisy might be right about her being impatient like me.
Derek enters the kitchen, leans into Dakota’s ear, says something, and she stops banging the spoon.
“You got some kinda magic powers or something,” I joke.
“We have an understanding.” He winks at Dakota. “Right, baby sister?”
It makes me proud how Derek adores and protects his sisters, and I can’t help thinking Daisy and I were a big part of it, but I do feel sorry for the poor sucker who tries to date them in the future.
“Can’t believe I’m going to my first club party tonight,” Derek says.
“First one where you’re invited.” I’m referring to last year when he thought he could get past me by sneaking in.
“Yeah, let’s hope there’s no crazy shit tonight like last year.”
Fuck, the second person to bring up last year. I plate the pasta Daisy prepared for the girls and nod to Derek. “You’re in charge since you seem to have the magic touch.”
I head for the bedroom, kick off my boots and lie down on the bed. I broke my ass at the shop today, and a few minutes of quiet sounds damn good.
The water shuts off in the bathroom, and a few minutes later, Daisy emerges naked, her body flushed from the hot water, and of course my dick notices.
“Don’t get any ideas.” She points her finger at me. “Sheena and I want to get there early to make sure everything’s in place.”
“Shit, fine thing when your woman turns you down for her girlfriend.” I lace my fingers behind my head and just enjoy the show .
Daisy closes the bedroom door and stage-whispers, “Derek is going to be so surprised to get his patch tonight.”
“I know. He thinks he’s able to go to the party ‘cause he’s been a prospect for a year.”
I smile, remembering my patching in with the Serpents. Good times.
Daisy throws on a robe and vanishes into the bathroom again. A few seconds later, I hear the hairdryer. I sure don’t envy women and all the shit they have to do to get ready. My routine consists of taking a shower, then putting on clean jeans and a t-shirt.
An hour later, we enter The Gold Mine through the new side entrance, take the stairs down to a short hall and enter our version of a speakeasy.
Tonight is just for the Serpents, some invited guests, and reporters from KLAS and the Review Journal.
Never could have enough good publicity—what Rattler called a soft opening to work out any bugs or problems.
As usual, the women went all out with the attention to detail, bringing the 1920s to life.
I’d been in and out of this room hundreds of times, but the vision of Daisy bleeding out on the exact same floor still hit me.
Maybe not as sharp after a year, but still there.
I’ve also convinced myself that whatever happened that night was a delusion brought on by my concussion, and nothing more.
I calm myself, focusing on my wife in another dress accentuating her figure. Along with the pride of having my son join a group of brothers who always have my back.
Life is good.
Samson and Nick came from Club Wicked, and after some jokes about my mishap last year, they congratulate us on our new venture. Nothing compared to the mega-club they own right off the Strip, but we’re going for a more intimate feel, an observation made by one of the reporters.
Python lets loose with a shrill whistle as Cobra gets up on a chair. “All right, fuckers, settle down. We got a few things to cover before we get our drink on.”
“First, I wanna congratulate all of us for getting this shit together. After almost one hundred years, we managed to renovate and bring this room back to its original glory.”
“Fuck yeahs” and fist bumps filter through the room.
“Next, I wanna call Joker’s son, Derek, over.”
Derek shoots a look to me, and I shrug.
“You’ve prospected for a year, and most of the brothers think you’ve done good—except me.” Cobra pauses, doing what he does best. Adding tension and amping everybody up. “And since I run this club, my word is the last word.”
Cobra looks at Python. “Isn’t that right, Sergeant-at-Arms?”
“Fuck yeah, your word is law, Boss.”
“I believe in delivering bad news without fuckin’ around.” Cobra glances at me. “We all took a vote last night.”
Derek’s gaze bounces between me and Cobra.
“And I’m afraid we got some bad news for you.” Cobra leans over the bar and retrieves a brown shopping bag. “‘Cause we don’t want you as a prospect anymore.” Cobra hops off the chair, pulls out Derek’s cut and shoves it to him. “We want you as a full-patched member.”
Derek holds it up, eyes wide as he examines the patches.
“From this day forward, you are a member of the Serpents MC Las Vegas.”
Derek’s mouth falls open. I take the leather cut and help him slip it on, then I grip his shoulders. “Congrats, brother.”
Derek huffs out a breath. “Shit, I thought for sure you were voting me out.”
“Are you kidding me? After the way you saved your mother and baby sister?” Python laughs.
Cobra shoulder-butts Python. “Looks like from now on you’ll be getting your own late-night snacks.”
Rattler slings his arm around Derek’s shoulders. “And keep up with that karate shit, brother. Might come in handy again someday.”
Daisy gives Derek a hug, then insists on a picture of the three of us.
I circle my arms around Daisy and Derek. “All that’s missing are my baby girls.”
Cobra claps me on the back and nods to Derek. “He’s the first of the second generation.”
“Crazy, right?” I hadn’t thought about it, but Cobra’s words hit me deep. Time is going by—a little too quick.
“Let’s toast our newest member.”
We head to the bar, and Rattler sets us up with shot glasses filled with Jack.
Cobra raises his glass. “Here’s to the newest Serpent. Club First, Brothers Always.”
We all raise our glasses, and Derek shoots the smoky liquor in one swallow.
“I’m guessing that’s not your first shot,” I deadpan.
Derek rolls his eyes, and Python pipes up, “Hey, according to club rules, you and him are equals now.”
“Not so,” I counter. “I’m not only an officer, but I’m also his old man.” I smirk. “Plus, I can take him down any day of the week.”
“I don’t know about that,” Python adds. “The kid’s got some mad skills and karate moves.”
“Ahh, leave the kid alone.” Rattler refills his glass. “What the hell were you doin’ at his age?”
“All right, wiseass, I get it.” I point to my son. “But no way you’re driving later.” I angle him away from the group. “Mom told me about getting into the masters program at school.”
“She was supposed to keep that a secret.”
“She was excited for you and it slipped out.” I wrap my arm around his shoulders. “Proud of you.” My voice cracks with emotion and we do the man hug thing .
“Hey, did one of your women lose a necklace?” Rattler reaches under the bar. “I found this when I was cleaning up down here the other day.”
“Holy shit!” My eyes go wide at the silver feather on a leather rope dangling from Rattler’s fingers.
“What?” Cobra closes the distance between us.
“I don’t fuckin’ believe it.” I swipe it away from him. “Where’d you get this?”
“It was wedged between the floorboard and the base of the bar. Almost where you’re sitting right now.”
Exactly where I lost it when the Nomad swiped it away from me after my journey to another time.
“You know whose it is?” Rattler asks.
“It’s mine.”
Cobra looks over my shoulder. “That’s the one Warrior gave you, right?”
“Yeah. Fuckin’ crazy. I . . . thought I lost it.”
I examine the silver feather, and one of the reporters a few stools over moves closer for a better look. “Looks like an authentic talisman from the Shoshone tribe.”
“You know about the Shoshones?” I ask.
“I did a piece about them a few years ago. Remarkable people, dedicated to tradition. How they’ve kept the old ways, and how some of their medicinal cures rival modern medicine. Which is interesting because they have the highest number of centenarians among indigenous people.”
“The guy who gave this to me had to be at least one hundred. Maybe you interviewed him. His name is Warrior.”
“He was the tribe leader up north around Reno, right?”
“Yeah, you spoke to him?”
The reporter cocks his head. “Ahhh, no. They told me at the time he was one of the oldest living tribesmen, but he’s been dead for like ten years.”
“Dead?” Cobra said.
“Yeah, he died in 2015. ”
“You must be talking about somebody else,” Cobra said.
The reporter pulls out his phone, swipes at it a few times, then turns the screen to Cobra and me. “Is this the guy?”
Warrior’s weathered face stares back at us. “Yeah.”
The reporter scrolls down and turns the screen to us again. “Here’s his obit, died October 31, 2015.” The reporter laughs. “Kinda freaky, ten years ago today.”
The reporter pockets his phone and slaps Cobra on the back. “Looks like you got a winner here.” Then he takes his drink and moves to the other side of the room.
Cobra and I exchange a look. “Fuckin weird.”
“Maybe—” Cobra begins, but I cut him off fast.
“No maybes—you and I both know who and what we saw last year.”
“Or what we didn’t see. Remember our last meet with Warrior when he left our church room—then vanished?”
“We’re not gonna say anything about this to the others.”
“No shit. They’d think we were both fuckin’ crazy.”
“Exactly.” I pocket the silver amulet, and a sensation of calm washes over me.
Daisy approaches, wrapping her arm around my waist, her gaze centered on Derek receiving backslaps from the other brothers. “We’re very lucky.”
I pull her in tighter, cradling her head to my shoulder.
“You’ll never know how much.”
THE END