Chapter 36 #2
T he rumbling engines of motorcycles shut down, one by one, as my crew parks their bikes around us in the section of the lot reserved for the original members of our founding charter.
The Iron Saints’ clubhouse is located near the halfway point between Bermuda County and our southern chapter, just outside Myrtle Beach.
I kick down the stand and twist Serene’s key.
She settles into silence beneath me, and I gaze up at the large Saviors MC banner draped across their old clubhouse sign.
A warmth settles in my chest, temporarily quelling the turmoil wreaking quiet havoc inside of me.
I am proud of this. We built this MC from the ground up and are making a difference with our mission, a mission others now want to join. We are growing. Tonight is proof.
I glance back at Vanna as she climbs off Serene and tucks her helmet into the saddlebag.
She catches me watching her and smiles…at least on the surface.
I have a feeling, despite the proud moment, we’re both putting on a good face for the sake of not unraveling in front of people who look to us like we’ve got our shit together.
I hang my helmet on Serene’s handlebars and dismount, stepping up to Vanna, close enough she has to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes.
“You look good, baby.” I let my gaze roam her pretty face and curvaceous figure clad in leather and denim. “My MC Queen. The finest First Lady a club could ask for.”
“ Oh, stop it .” She chuckles, playfully pushing away from me, but I grab her hand and pull her back. “Quit stalling and get in there. I’m sure they’re all eager to get the party started.”
Back when I was running with rougher MCs, patch-over parties were wild events fueled by booze, willing women, loud music, and raging bonfires.
Usually, a fight or two as well, due to the combustible pairing of booze and women.
But we aren’t about that life anymore. Tonight, we celebrate a significant milestone.
When we step inside, we’re welcomed with a mixture of applause and raised beers.
My crew is standing on either side of the only remaining Iron Saints’ banner on display, though the walls of the clubhouse are still lined with their history captured in framed photos, old patches, and the worn leather of the couches and stools lining the bar.
I’m forced to release Vanna’s hand when the president and vice president step forward to shake ours and introduce us to the members about to be welcomed into our fold.
Their First Lady escorts Vanna over to the bar, where Cherry is also waiting, and begins introducing her to the club’s women.
I make my way through the sea of new and familiar faces until I’m standing between my Sergeant at Arms and VP.
Axel is standing with us, excitedly holding the banner we will be replacing the Iron Saints’ one with momentarily.
A sharp whistle from their president quiets the room, and someone lowers the music playing through the sound system.
He starts off by giving a brief speech about accepting our rules and bylaws, and their eagerness to join our mission, closing with, “Allow me to officially introduce the president of the founding charter… Dean Keegan.”
I wait out the next brief eruption of applause while Viking slaps the back of my cut, jokingly taunting me, “ Don’t fuck this up. I hope you prepared a speech. You better not bomb .” And so on and so forth, in true to his nature, ball-busting fashion.
I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to think of something to say prior to this occasion, but fuck it. Here goes…
I take another gander around the room at the men standing shoulder to shoulder, new cuts stitched fresh and proud.
Brothers who have chosen to ride under the same banner, for the same cause.
I step forward, trying to find my voice.
When my gaze lands on Vanna, her pretty face staring back at me, full of pride and love, the words come easy.
“My uncle founded the Saviors MC, but he didn’t do it to play badass or claim streets.
This MC came together because the world is full of people who turn their backs on pain they don’t have to feel.
We decided not to be those people. We decided to fight for the afraid and the all-too-often forgotten.
For the women and children locked behind closed doors with monsters who wear the masks of men. ”
When my wife’s smile turns tearful, I swallow the knot that wants to form in my throat.
“We all know someone…unfortunately, and most likely, more than just someone… I’ve got a strong woman, one with more heart than most men I’ve ever met…
Nobody saved her. No club came for her. No one stepped in to pull her out of the hell she escaped on her own before we met.
” I clear my throat in an effort to keep my voice from cracking.
“She had to save herself, and that…that still fucks me up more than I can put into words… That’s why this mission matters.
That’s why this patch means something. We show up when the system doesn’t.
We get them out. We protect. And we don’t back down. ”
I close my eyes and let the silence stretch, mostly for a moment to pull my shit together before I go on. I take a breath, finding Vanna once again. Cherry has shifted closer to her among the group of women, and I smile at her as well.
“I know you hear this all the time. Hell, you may have even said it yourself… ‘ it’s not all men’ …
We know it isn’t. This MC is proof it isn’t.
But too many self-proclaimed ‘good men’ remain silent.
If you are turning your head like it’s not your business, then you’re part of the problem.
There aren’t enough men willing to do something about it.
Being a man isn’t just about not doing harm .
It’s about standing up to those who do . ”
A few murmurs rise up around the room, agreeing, reflecting, maybe even hurting, and thinking back on pasts which have given them cause to seek redemption.
“I’m not saying any of us are without our own faults.
We all have a past. We’re Saviors, not saints …
but if we can be the hand that someone else never got…
the protection they need, and the safe haven they deserve, then we’re making a difference.
So, here’s to all of you joining us, to the road ahead, to the ones we protect.
This isn’t just a club. It’s a calling. Welcome to the fight. Welcome to the Saviors MC.”
Another roar of applause rises throughout the clubhouse as Axel and Viper remove their old banner, replacing it with the Saviors MC skull and wings. Their president hands me a beer and clanks his own against mine before we both raise them to the room in salute.
I keep tabs on Vanna from across the room as the patch-over party ensues, and I’m approached by multiple members of our new chapter.
She’s already knocked back a second drink since my little speech and is working on her third.
We haven’t been here long, so it’s a red flag.
The irony slices right through me, because the part of me that’s bracing for the inevitable contraceptive conversation feels a cold kind of relief.
She’s drinking. She wouldn’t be if she were already pregnant.
The relief is hollow, though, because it also means something else.
I continue to shake every hand, clap every shoulder, and give each newly inducted member of the Saviors MC a nod and a few more words. They earned it and deserve my attention as well, but my gaze keeps gravitating to Vanna. At least she’s with Cherry.
Just as I’m able to ease through the last couple of guys, I spot Viking coming at me with a determined stride, splitting the crowd.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“ You know who is outside,” Viking says. “Figures he’d reappear tonight. Anyway, he wants a word with you.”
“Alright. Let Vanna know I’ll be right back.”
I spot the glow of Legion’s cigarette just beyond the club’s floodlights in the parking lot. He’s leaning against his bike in the shadows, the way he had been the night he first showed up in my lot. Though this time, he isn’t surrounded by his Demons. He’s alone.
The sounds of music, laughter, and conversations within the clubhouse fade behind me as I cross the lot. Legion stands to face me, wearing one of those sly grins that make me want to swing first and ask questions later. But his presence means something has either gone down or is about to.
“Congratulations.” Legion cocks his chin toward the clubhouse. I can’t tell if he’s sincere or not, and I don’t care either way. The way his gaze lingers on the door, hopeful for a glimpse of my wife, further grates my nerves.
“You’ve been MIA for a few days,” I say, cutting right to the chase. “Have you decided what you’re going to do about their offer?”
He shoots me a resentful glare. “ Declining it . However, refusing them puts me in a precarious position, as you well know… and may even be counting on…”
I don’t bother confirming or denying his assumption.
“The last thing anyone wants is a full-blown war. Killing a fully patched, ranking member of an MC is grounds for retaliation, which would spark a war. And since your club has made it abundantly clear that I will never receive the unanimous vote required to patch in as a Savior… I’ve made other arrangements . ”
Motherfucker… “So, that’s what you’ve been up to these last few weeks? Manipulating your way into a Jokers’ cut?”
A sinister grin slowly stretches his mouth. “There’s something else… Something you might equate to stitching up a wound with barbed wire , but it will solve all of our collective problems.” Legion proceeds to relay the plan he’s concocted while I finish off the half-empty beer sweating in my hand.
“You’re a slippery son of a bitch.”