Throttle (Steel Valley Chains MC #3)

PROLOGUE

Seventeen

Throttle

Is there any purpose or explanation for these Sunday sermons? The judgmental lecture being forced upon us as we listen. They never made sense to me. Maybe it’s because they don’t have a lasting effect on my life like it does on my father. I wish, for the sake of our collective sanity, it influenced me. I'd be an improvement to my parents.

The son they yearn to have.

I let myself regret never wanting to be a church leader. But the guilt fades, and I’m left to remember this is my future and no one else’s. For me, it wasn't attending Sunday mass; It was about having my life picked out for me.

Bored out of my mind and wondering why my father’s sermon is lasting an eternity—I don’t miss how it’s geared toward me. He's dragging it out too, which makes me more on edge.

Should I be proud of him as he stands up there tall, engaged in his words? As a kid I was. I remember thinking how cool my dad is. How everyone sat and listened to him with such admiration. But I don’t want this life—his life of the church. One of a reverend’s son. I desire my own. To carry out my own dreams.

Whatever the hell those were.

People choose to sing their praises to a God they believe in, that’s fine. It doesn’t make one bit of a difference to me except I’d rather be doing something else. Anything that wouldn't compel me to want to stab my eye sockets out while Mrs. Harvey sings.

Honestly, if my father thinks he can control me after high school, he’s mistaken.

I put my bitter and cynical thoughts on hold when the tapping of the window next to me gets my attention. Gabe, a dude I’ve known since freshman year, holds up a pack of cigarettes, pressing it to the glass.

Thank Jesus Christ.

No pun intended.

My dad clears his throat and his angry stare lands on me. I straighten in the pew, trying not to look guilty. I swear I’m never not pissing off my father.

My mother shakes her head, leaning to my side. “Can’t you behave just once, Levi? Honestly.” Her disapproval tone drips out like a leaky faucet.

Deep down, they figure I’ll never amount to what they want of me, and I continue to disappoint them daily. But what they don’t know… I sure as fuck plan to do right by this world. I’ll just be doing it my way. Not theirs.

“There’s always a choice.” My father raises the bible above his head. “You always have a choice in life. One that can and will define you forever. Let us reflect on our choices…”

I think… if that were true… my parents wouldn’t create a suffocating environment, as if I never have this so-called choice. They’d tell me to do what makes me happy.

Whatever, it has zero significance because as soon as I graduate and turn eighteen, I won’t be staying in this strangling forsaken town.

My mother slaps a hand on my bouncing leg. “Stop that. You’re being so disruptive.”

I’m trapped, drowning, and there’s no damn way to get out of here. Not yet.

When mass lets out, I buzz past the slow movers.

“Oh, my goodness boy, be careful or you’re going to topple over an old lady.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Palinski.” I wave an apologetic hand and start up the hill behind the church.

“You better not be late for brunch at the hall, young man!” my mom’s muffled yell makes me cringe.

I loosen my tie that’s too damn tight and see Gabe sitting on the hill, already smoking a rolled joint. “Dude, what the hell? Couldn’t wait ten minutes?”

He laughs. “Sorry bro, but if I waited any longer, my first buzz from this morning was going to fucking deflate. I swear your dad’s sermons are growing longer and longer every week.”

“He does it to piss me off.” I sit down and take out a fresh one hidden in the cigarette pack. “You’re getting better at these. All that pussy must be paying off. It’s making that brain of yours smarter.”

“Fuck off. I’m not the one with a line out the door. Speaking of… a certain big cherry topper blonde came by my house looking for you. You gotta stop giving your hookups my address, man. My parents are going to think I’m screwing the whole high school.”

If I’m lucky enough, I’d sneak out and use Gabe’s home as a fuck station, with his parents' working nights and his nanny slash maid being the deepest sleeper I’ve ever met. It made it easy.

“Yeah, well, can’t give them mine, and you know that. My father will disown me.” I blow out smoke and lie back, letting the blistering sun bask on my skin. “Ship me off to the reserves.”

Bringing a girl to my house would guarantee punishment. Wants me to focus on my senior year. Get into a worthy college. Then come back here and start my life preaching the fantastic word. Like that’s ever going to happen.

Fuck that.

“Seems like that chick is already obsessed with you. Better cut it off real fast or she’s going to be crying and begging you to love her, dude.”

Ha. What fantasy shit. My parents are supposed to love each other but look at them—their lives revolve around a world with a singing choir.

No thanks. I fail to comprehend the allure.

“She’ll get the point. I don’t love, and the girls know it.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

I envy Gabe sometimes. Jealous of his life. His parents allow him to do whatever he wants. They trust him. I crave to experience that affection and what it’s like, just once.

“So, your pops let you off the hook yet for the weed he caught you with?”

I laugh, wishing that was true. “If only. I’ll be hearing about it for the rest of the school year.”

My parents searched my room and found my stash. Locked up my dirt bike in the shed and told me I wasn’t allowed to ride it until I proved myself. Guess sneaking isn’t proving myself, but whatever. How else am I supposed to get through Sundays with Reverend Miller? Or any day living with them.

Some would argue my life is far from bad, and they’d be right to a certain extent. Sure, I’m fed, clothed with a roof over my head, but that’s about it. Ask me if they can name my favorite movie. My favorite book. I’ve never had a tuck in with a kiss, telling me to dream sweet fucking dreams.

I miss my bike, though. Racing. Winning. It’s an escape out of all this shit.

Gabe chucks his roll onto the grass. “I better get back. My parents want me to go over colleges with them.”

“Ouch.” But my stomach swirls in envy. Not that I want to attend college, but the fact his parents give a damn.

“Yeah. Fuck me. Whatever, see you at school tomorrow.”

“Later.” I watch Gabe descend the hill and wish I could go with him and never come back.

I sat through the boring ass brunch with the boring old people, all while my mom kept eyeing me with disdain. There was no hiding the smell of marijuana, and I’m prepared for the lecture I was going to hear at home. But my father couldn't care less about me at the moment. He’s playing good guy while smiling and shaking hands with the townsfolk. The leader they all like to admire.

What a beloved man around here. Such a nice guy, they say. Hilarious. If they only saw him behind closed doors. Such a dedicated family father.

I stuff about three stale donuts down my throat and guzzle some orange juice, all the while my mom glares at me.

Fuck. She knows.

When we get home, the front door slams behind me, and all hell breaks loose. “Levi Matthew Miller. How high are you?” My mom stands with her fisted hands at her hips.

“Come here, boy, right now.” My dad’s deep and rumbled voice echoes off the walls.

I’d be lying if I said he didn’t scare me a little. My father has never hit me, but I wouldn’t take it off the table.

I descend the stairs, the ones I made halfway up, and stand in front of my dad. He’s intimidating with his height and build. But at seventeen, I almost meet his eyes with mine.

He studies my pupils. “What is wrong with you? You’re getting high at church. On the lord’s day. What kind of image do you want to keep setting for this family? Huh?”

“It’s embarrassing, Levi.” My mom wipes a tear off her cheek.

“You’re upsetting your mother and making me look like a damn fool. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I ponder my response. “It’s only weed.” I should have contemplated longer.

My father’s eyes slant, and his jaw ticks. “Go to your room. You’re grounded for another month. And you can forget about getting your dirt bike back. Consider it sold.”

Damn.

That one hurt more than I wanted.

The only thing I give a shit about is pussy and my bike. Well, just my dirt bike. Now that’s gone. I have nothing until I graduate.

After slamming my bedroom door closed, I turn on the anime I was watching from earlier. I take off my stuffy ass suit and throw my dress shirt on the floor.

My fresh tattoo itches like a bitch as I rub lotion on it. That’ll be number three. My chest and shoulders. That would set my parents over the edge if they saw.

I’m going to get out. One more year and I’ll be able to leave. Gabe’s cousin lives north of here. Said I could shack up with him until I got a steady job. And that’s what I plan to do.

I am going to be a leader in this world. I just won’t be doing it with Sunday sermons and stale bagels. This is my life and I’ll be the one to have a say in it.

Me.