Page 41 of Biker's Property
“Do we really have time to drag race into this?”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I need the place to be secure.”
“It’s secure,”Southpaw says. “Now get your asses down here.”
Chapter Nineteen
SOUTHPAW
Therapy and sobriety have brought the best out of me. Ever since the incident where Anna took off with the kids, I put every last ounce of effort I had into getting my shit together. Therapy until I couldn’t take it anymore. Quitting to avoid ever going back to therapy again. Avoiding every Little League baseball diamond within driving distance of our house. And hockey rink. And race track. And dog fighting ring.
It’s slow,but I’m making much better progress than before. Realizing how close I came to losing Anna changed me. The way I feel about her is so different from how I felt about other women because she makes me want to change. She holds me accountable. She scares the fuck out of me by making me imagine a world where I don’t get to hold her.
I knowI have to stop. Avoid every poker table. Every dice game.
Instead of gambling,I play online chess. Destroying some idiot halfway across the world is the only high that comes close.
And then of course there’s Anna. And the kids. Who are much better and much more important than any high. I know I have a problem. I know I’m fucked in the head. But I love my family. I love them enough to try to change. Even if it means waking up at three in the morning with the itch to destroy everything… and instead, calling some guy onChess.coma series of insults Anna would smack me for.
If club business weren’t so damn stressful, riding would be an even better distraction. I miss the freedom of the open road. Right now, we have the open road – but no freedom.
Anna and the kids are asleep upstairs so I can have this unofficial meeting in the garage with the boys. This placeusedto be a garage. It’s more like a war room now.
Anna says nothing, but I can tell our arsenal of weapons makes her deeply uncomfortable. She understands. She won’t leave. But I know Anna has her limits. If I want to protect my family and keep my wife happy – we need to end this quickly.
There’s a game on the garage television. I keep sports that I don’t feel the temptation to gamble on down here. In this case, cricket. I don’t give a shit how popular it is around the world… call me when a cricketer hits a grand slam or slides headfirst into home plate. The so-called sport is boring.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Owen asks, tipping back his third Voodoo Ranger. My brother Ethan sits next to him on his phone.
“It’s a sport for fags,” Ethan says without looking up. “That’s what it is.”
Unlike me, he doesn’t see any issues with his gambling. He’s probably deeply invested in March Madness. Or college games. Something I wish I could get my hands on. Instead, I drink. Can’t get too drunk or Anna will make me sleep on the couch again, so even with the whiskey, I need a steady hand. Not easy considering the club shit happening right now.
Hunter’sheavy footsteps come pounding down the stairs. Ryder behind him. That’s how they always are these days – one twin a few steps behind the other. They used to be about the same size, but Ryder clearly spent all his time in prison trading shit for ramen noodles and lifting weights. He has about thirty, forty pounds of muscle on his brother.
And finally, his hair is growing back. Doesn’t make sense to keep it longer than a buzz cut behind bars with the lice outbreaks and the bedbugs. It’s easier to tell them apart with Ryder’s hair coming in half-gray – like he’s seen some shit.
“What the fuck are you watching?” Hunter asks, scowling jealously at the beer before tipping a Mountain Dew into his throat.
“Doesn’t Mountain Dew have alcohol in it?” Ethan asks, still barely looking up from his phone.
“No, you fucking idiot,” Hunter says. “I’ve been drinking this shit since I was a baby.”
“Let’s talk business,” I interrupt before this turns into a fistfight. Tensions have been high as fuck around here after the discovery out in the desert. “We don’t have time to argue over liquor.”
“Or gambling debts,” Owen says suspiciously before leaning against the couch back and finishing off his third Voodoo Ranger rapidly.
“Right…”
Ryder shares my eagerness to get to business. He sits at the basement bar on a metal stool, leaning back in the same position as his brother, who takes the stool next to him.
“Good news and bad news. Ruger has Darlene safely out of the way at Oske’s trailer out on the rez. No way a bunch of Nazis ride onto the rez without anyone noticing,” Ryder announces to the club, getting started on our business to avoid any discussion of anyone’s gambling.
Hearing Oske’s name immediately raises my concerns over the bad news. Ryder glances at Owen to fill me in, which only makes me more nervous. My brother looks up at me like he’s trying to calm a raging beast.What the fuck are they keeping from me?
“I thought we should wait and let her think this through but… she’s insistent.”
“On what…”