Page 5 of Ink

Griz doesn’t get called away too often during the day from the garage, so I am a little surprised. “Anything I should be concerned about?”

Griz gives me a pointed look. “Nah, don’t sweat it. That’s my job.” He gives me a gentle slap goodbye on my arm and is out the garage door looking for Rider. Me? I turn my attention back to the car engine, set down my wrench, and then walk over to Carmen’s car to get started on the repairs. That Chevelle can wait another day.

Two hours later, all of our phones are vibrating with a message from the Prez. An emergency, mandatory session of Church has been called for tonight. Rider and I try to take guesses on why we are meeting on a Wednesday night but neither one of us can come up with anything remotely worthy of hauling all of us in. We had just all seen each other on Sunday night so this is highly irregular and means something really is up. Considering the last time we had an emergency meeting it had been with Rider and his ole’ lady Rayleighn who had trouble with her ex-boyfriend and the father of her child. And by trouble, I mean that dude ended up getting shot and beat and carted off out of town by the club to make sure that shit ended.

Rider and I ride our motorcycles together to the clubhouse. When we pull up to the clubhouse and get off our motorcycles, Rider stops and takes the time to call Rayleighn and lets her know he is going to be late for dinner. I don’t have anyone to call—but for a second I think about texting Carmen—but we aren’t there yet in our relationship for me to just be randomly texting her about club business. I knew I was pushing her hard to get back into her life but I am not such a bastard that I can’t give her a little bit more time to come to terms with everything. Before I could stop myself, I shoot off a text that I hope is nonchalant.

Before I can see a response or even the three dots, we go inside the clubhouse and I have to shove my phone back into my pocket. The clubhouse is packed with brothers hanging about waiting for Church to start. All the stools are taken at the bar, Rider leaves and goes over to some of the guys at the pool tables but I feel too antsy. My phone is itching my fingers in my pocket. I want to pull it out and see if I have any text from Carmen but I had literally just walked through the door and didn’t want to be that guy. I already feel whipped and we aren’t even together… yet.

A drink would calm me down. I start to make my way to the bar but the club secretary, Hammer comes out of the meeting room we use for Church to inform us that we are ready to get started. I inwardly groan but get my butt moving so I can secure a good seat around the table. I wasn’t an old-timer in the club but I am not a newbie either. I have been in the club since I was twenty years old so I already have a decade under my belt.

My brothers and I quickly make our way into the room and we all find our seats quickly. It’s mid-week and a lot of the brothers have families that I’m sure they want to get home to see. Okay, maybe some more than others but either way we all want out of here sooner rather than later. I am curious as to why we all have to attend this emergency session of Church, but I can’t get Carmen out of my mind. Phones are strictly prohibited in Church so I can’t just pull my phone out and check to see if she’s responded. When the club was first founded, cell phones didn’t even exist but as time and technology moved on they have enforced the rule about all electronics being off limits during Church. A decade before I joined when the club used to be full of one-percenters, they would confiscate every brother’s phone as they entered the meetings. Now since we were on the up-and-up ninety-five percent of the time that isn’t necessary.

The club was completely different back then when it was full of one percenters. That single percent of bikers living life on the wrong side of the law. Running guns and drugs used to be the lay of the land for Mystic Venom MC but not anymore. For two decades the club had been clean all thanks to Prez who had enough of living a hard life. He bought the club’s bar on the up and up with clean money and slowly the club opened up more legit businesses.

Prez hitting the gavel against the wooden podium brings the Church to session. “Brothers, we come here tonight joining together for an emergency session of Church. I wouldn’t bring all of you out during the week if it wasn’t important and this shit is as important as it can get.”

The low murmur around the room has me looking side to side. Apart from Griz leaving the garage today to meet Prez, I haven’t heard of anything out of the ordinary happening. We had just celebrated Valentine’s Day at the clubhouse with everyone a few weeks ago and we are getting ready to patch in our latest prospect Detroit within the month. The clubhouse has been bustling with guys in and out of here and everyone has been in good spirits prepping for the patch-in party and of course Rider’s wedding on the horizon.

Prez knocks his gavel against the wood again to quiet us all down. “Brothers, it’s no easy task to stand here and hit you with this news. The MC club down in Oregon that we had a slight altercation with in December has decided it’s time to retaliate against us.”

Rider is sitting in the row behind me and I can hear him groan. It blends in with several of the other brothers who didn’t want to get involved to begin with back in December. It’s been almost three months since Rider shot a man inside his house that was there to attack him and his then-girlfriend, Rayleighn all while her young boy slept down the hall. After the shooting and interrogation, we found out it was her crazy ex who had been helped by members of another MC down in Oregon. We never had beef with them before but we knew there was potential for blowback but we had all hoped for the best. When they entered and tried to harm one of our own, the entire club got behind the decisions that had been made. And we stand by them still today.

“I got word today that they're looking to cause some trouble for us and the club. Don’t know what kind yet but I want every single one of you on high alert. Watch your back on the street. I don’t know what this club is fully capable of but the fact that they were willing to abduct an innocent woman and her child—I would say they're up for just about anything.”

Before Prez can continue one of the older brothers speaks up. “Prez, I stayed in this club fifteen years ago when we went fully legit. Should I start gathering my shit upstairs because I’m not prepared to go back to my old ways.” He gestures towards Rider and I can see him stiffen in his seat. “I did my part in December because that young girl was innocent but I don’t want trouble knocking on our door again.”

The murmurs break out again around the room and Prez strikes his gavel hard against the podium. “Brothers. None of us want an MC war. None of us long-time brothers are prepared to go back to our one percent days but I myself and this club will not stand for anyone and I mean anyone coming into our town and disrespecting us, our businesses, or our families. Am I clear?”

Rumbles of Yes Prez. I got yous and of course break out around the room. We all hear Prez loud and clear. Griz, who has been standing off to the side of Prez, steps forward to speak. As club enforcer, he instructs the club on security and safety among other things along those lines. I know because I am close to Rider that he had a direct hand in taking care of finishing off the issue Rider had in December. I also know that he had been the one to send the message to the other MC. If anyone knew firsthand what they were like it was Griz.

A man of not many words, I am not surprised by the few that he speaks. “Worry about your family. Girlfriends, wives, kids. Don’t let them go anywhere alone.” With that, he steps back and stands against the wall like he hasn’t just scared the shit out of half of us. A few seconds of silence pass and then the room erupts in a mess of voices shouting their concerns and their anger rising at the other club putting us in this position. What I am most proud of my brothers is that not even one of them blames Rider for this predicament.

Thirty minutes later, I am leaving the clubhouse. The rain has started up and I eye my motorcycle getting wet in the parking lot. A lot of the guys carry a cover in their saddle bags but since I had been working on my exhaust earlier, I haven’t bothered to put them back on and they are currently sitting back in one of the garage bays. I pull out my phone and check my messages. My heart speeds up as I see the message notification. I light up a cigarette and take a drag trying to calm myself. I have never had a woman tear me up like this. I never get nervous around women, let alone over a text message. I open my phone and see two messages from her:

I check the timestamp on the messages. She sent them as soon as I went into Church. That was over an hour ago. It was still fairly early, so I take a chance and fire off a quick message.

Her reply is almost instantaneous.

I take another drag of my cigarette. This woman. I swear. She is so strong but so stubborn. I am going to have to prove to her she isn’t a bother and that giving her my truck to use indefinitely is only the tip of the iceberg of the things I am willing to do for her. My fat thumbs type as quickly as I can make them.

The next thing I text her is probably worse than me asking for a nude shot, at least to her.

Carmen

Oh shit. I would rather send Ink a tit shot than have him come to the house right now. Lucia is fast asleep in bed but my parents are still up and around the house. They are downstairs in the living room working on a puzzle together. Just the thought of him knocking on the door and my parents coming face to face with him has me breaking out into a cold sweat. I am not ashamed of Ink or my friendship with him or anyone affiliated with the MC by any means, but I would rather not have a full-on interrogation from my parents tonight if and when Ink stops by. Plus, Ink doesn’t know the full extent of my parents' prejudice against the club or him. Honestly, no one will ever be good enough for me in their eyes but the fact that Ink is tattooed up and in an MC is just too much for them.

Will he roll up on his motorcycle and knock on the door? Is he really coming over? The questions run through my head. If I know Ink like I think I do, he is serious t and I’ll be seeing him soon.

I text him back to see if he is joking but there is no reply. This tells me that he really is coming over—which is why he won’t reply. I take in my appearance in the mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door and sigh. I am wearing ratty, old sweats, the kind that you only wear when no one except your parents will see you. My hair is a greasy mess thrown up in a top knot and my face is completely washed and devoid of any makeup. This is not how I want to be seen. I need to make a snap decision because I only have enough time to take care of one thing—the pajamas. I quickly change out of my ratty shirt and sweats and throw on a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweater. I run a brush through my hair and have enough time to get some dry shampoo into it then I grab my phone off the bed.

I quickly but quietly make my way down the stairs passing the living room. My parents don’t disappoint. They are both sitting at the table looking over pieces of the puzzle laid out before them. Thankfully, I pass by without notice and quietly turn the doorknob and step out onto the front porch sight unseen. The light is off because my parents religiously turn it off at nine p.m. like it was a warning sign for everyone to get inside. In reality, it’s probably to save on the electric bill because they are frugal like that.

I stand there continuously diverting my eyes from my phone to the street. A few minutes pass by when I hear the faint sounds of a motorcycle, I know it had to be him. When he doesn’t appear on the street a few seconds later I am slightly disappointed. I unlock my screen on the phone and start to type out a text when heavy footsteps hit my ears. I glance up and there he is. Ink is walking up the concrete path of the sidewalk from the street to my parent’s house. I quietly take the steps down from the porch and meet him about halfway.

“What are you doing here Ink? Where’s your motorcycle?”

He looks over my shoulder and eyes the house behind me. “I didn’t want to wake up your parents and have a repeat performance of the first time I ever came here.”

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