Page 13 of Owning the Prez’s Ol' Lady

It was the one thing I took pleasure in after everything was over, dismembering and disposing of the pathetic corpse of the man who took my lover’s life.

I didn’t mourn Sabbath’s death. No one did. Well, maybe Shasta. But none of us would ever know because the second she had the chance, she fled, leaving us all behind for good.

And honestly, I’m glad she’s gone. She tore our club upside down, and I still partially blamed her for Warrant’s death. If he and I never had touched her, he’d still be alive, and I wouldn’t be burying my brother, friend, and lover right now.

Another tear fell down my cheek, one that I quickly wiped away. I didn’t want the others to see how distraught I was. It was an act of weakness, and if anyone found out my sexuality, I’d already be portrayed as weak.

No, I had to suck my emotions down. Internally suffering while the rest mourned his death openly, celebrating his life even after death.

Our bikes were parked just outside the gravesite, and when the ceremony was over, his body firmly lowered six-feet underground, we returned to our bikes for one last rev.

“Let Skid have the honor, Prez,” Wasp said to Snyder.

Snyder looked at me curiously, but shrugged. Motioning for me to begin. I gripped the throttle in my hand, then stared up at the sky, wondering if the big guy was staring down at me from above.

“This is for you, Warrant,” I whispered, my voice being drowned out by the sound of my bike roaring to life. The rest of the members followed, giving Warrant one last Rev—a final sendoff fit for a man who gambled with his life to protect our love.

It was bittersweet because I knew he was gone forever. That last rev was for our lost brother, who always thought about the club and never about himself. If it wasn’t for him, who knows who would’ve died at Sabbath’s hand. He didn’t deserve the overkill or to be toyed with and played with the way Sabbath had. The man was a monster, and a good man was dead because of him... countless women too. God, the carnage our former Prez had following him was coated in blood, and I for one was done being his lackey.

Snyder motioned for us to follow him back to the clubhouse, but I couldn’t. I needed to say goodbye. Properly this time.

So, as my brothers rode away from the cemetery, I approached the grave once again, too ashamed of my feelings to let anyone else see.

“Hey there, big guy.”

You couldn’t see his coffin anymore, not unless you looked all the way down, but I was perfectly fine sitting on the grass beside the hole where his body now laid because I could feel him around me, surrounding me with those brute arms of his.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Victor. You didn’t deserve any of this. If we had just not given in to the temptation of being together, maybe you’d still be alive, and we wouldn’t have gotten tangled up in this fucked up web like two unsuspecting flies.”

Tears fell down my cheeks, and I was too lost to wipe them away this time. “You were my best friend, and my feelings for you ran deeper than I ever could’ve imagined. You opened up a whole new world for me. One where I felt free in my own skin. But now... now you’re down there, and I’m still here. Why? Why was my life spared and yours so tragically taken?”

A sob got lodged deep within my chest, and I buried my head in my legs, too afraid to let the feelings of regret and loss take over me.

“How do I go on without you, Victor? How can I keep pretending to be something that I’m not?”

My words got lost in the quiet breeze that flitted over me, breathing over my skin like a silent final breath.

“Damn you for being so fucking brave,” I cried out. “Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut like the rest of us?”

Silence overwhelmed my emotions, and I couldn’t believe the devastation I was choking on. Was this what it felt like to love someone? Were my feelings for him even real, or were they just superficial to placate my sexuality. Can you lust after someone and it still be considered love?

“Why is this so fucking hard?” I shouted to no one in particular.

“Because it’s hard to let go of someone who changed your life,” an unfamiliar voice said from behind me.

Weakly, I turned my head. My gaze traveled up from the worn cowboy boots, to the thin legs covered with tattered blue jeans with too many holes, and along the lean torso of a man I didn’t recognize.

My heart immediately stopped beating when eyes the color of cool sand on an endless beach focused in on me. His right eyebrow was slit by a strange looking scar, and his blond hair looked dirty and like it hadn’t been washed for weeks. But for some odd reason, I felt drawn to him, like somewhere under that scraggly beard and unkempt disposition was a handsome devil ready to corrupt me.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, suddenly trying to hide my vulnerability.

The man’s sandy eyes focused on me, his jaw clenching just slightly before he fell into a frown.

“Let’s just say that I’m an old friend of Victor’s. One that deeply regrets everything I ever did to him...” He let out a forlorn sigh, one that I felt deep within my own broken soul. “I came here to ask for his forgiveness... but the dead can’t forgive your sins, so I guess I’ll have to stay eternally damned, suffering in silence just like you.”

Chapter Eleven

Shasta

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