Page 4 of The Prez

Once I throw my leg over my bike and start it, the rumble of other choppers surround me. Before we pull off, I raise my hand in the air and move my wrist back and forth in a revving motion. The sounds of revving bikes fill the air, our final goodbye to a fallen brother. This goes on for several minutes, until my ear drums rock in my skull and the only sounds that can be heard are the engines of our grief.

Only then do I halt my brothers.

With one last prayer, I pull off, my brothers following me back to the clubhouse.

The ride takes about an hour. We take it slow so everyone stays together and we arrive together. Two members stayed behind to watch over the clubhouse and they open the gates so we can drive through.

When we’re all parked, Jace hops onto a table in the courtyard and whistles. “Alright motherfuckers! Let’s fucking party in honor of our VP!”

Shouts and cheers go up, everyone eager to have a shot for Christian. I meander into my room in the clubhouse, shutting and locking my door so I can get changed. Since wewere on our bikes for a long distance, I have on a pair of jeans, my boots, leathers, a long-sleeved shirt and my cut. I don’t feel right. I feel like an imposter in a Rafael suit.

Opening my closet, I grab a blue button up, a pair of black slacks and a pair of dress shoes. I rifle through my dresser drawers until I find a pair of black socks. Once I have my outfit, I strip off these street clothes and get dressed.

Feeling more like myself, I toss the funeral clothes into my hamper and step into the bar. Pete, our mechanic, is sitting at a table off the side of the bar, tears streaming down his face as he takes cuts from the members of the MC. In front of him is our old sewing machine that only he and Christian could get to work. Patches line the table with Christian’s name, date of birth and death on them.

He looks up at me, nodding to my cut. “I can take it. I’ll have them finished before the night is over.”

I hand it to him without a word, offering his shoulder a firm squeeze. Pete pauses what he’s doing, places his shaking hand over mine and breaks down for a moment. His wracking sobs make everyone stop what they’re doing to offering him silence and support.

Shane comes over, sitting beside Pete and placing a shot glass in front of him. “Let’s toast to him, yeah?” Before they do, Shane pulls Pete in for a hug, rubbing his back to calm him down.

After a few moments, Pete nods, pats Shane on the back and pushing away, wiping his face. A choked laugh leaves his throat as he looks up at me. “Sorry about that, Prez.”

“No need to apologize, hermano. He was our brother. You can cry if you want.” A look flashes over Pete’s face, but he quickly covers it with a dip of his head. “Now let’s have that toast. Someone get me a drink.”

A shot glass is pressed into my hand and I raise it in the air. “To Christian. Our brother, our VP. He will be missed.”

I toss the tequila back, relishing the burn as it trails down my throat, fire trailing in its wake. I place the glass on the table and a hangaround slides another to me and I toss it back just as quickly. The alcohol warms my belly, pushing away the chill of loss, even if just for a few moments.

For the next few hours, we sit around and talk about Christian and party in his honor. Spirits are improved, but not as much as if he were still here. The oppressive feel of mourning is heavy, though my brothers try to drown themselves in booze, tits or pussy to ignore it.

I sit at the bar, watching everyone enjoy themselves as much as we can when we’re missing an integral part of our team. I’m not alone for long. Callie, one of the hangarounds I’ve enjoyed more than my fair share, sidles up to me, pressing her thin hip into mine. “Need some company?” I don’t answer or even glance in her direction. “Maybe I can help you out tonight, Prez. Take your mind off what happened today.”

She licks her extremely pink lips, her intention clear. Even if I wanted to fuck right now, it wouldn’t be Callie. She’s too clingy, too overbearing, too much. Always around, hinting at us being exclusive. The other guys like her around, so I haven’t banned her, but she’s on thin ice.

“Go away, Callie,” I mutter, sipping from my beer.

She doesn’t budge. Wrapping her bony fingers around my bicep, she strokes me as if to entice me to bend her over and relieve some stress. She presses her fake tits against my arm, moving them back and forth as if to tempt me. “Don’t be like that, Prez. I can make you feel real good. You know that. Let me be there for you.” Her words are as hollow as her eyes, reflecting nothing but surface grief. She doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a piece of your family. My brothers are doing what they can to get through it, but I don’t need anyone to comfort me. I’ve always taken care of myself.

Through gritted teeth, I say, “If I have to tell you one more time …” I don’t finish the sentence. She knows not to fuck with me.

Callie snatches her hand away and takes a few steps back, teetering on her too tall heels. “Sorry, Prez. I’ll uh … help someone else.” She meanders away, sitting on Brian’s lap, as if our conversation never happened.

Peeling the paper from the beer bottle in my hand, I think about what I have to do now with a sense of dread. Someone has to fill the role of VP, but fuck, I’m not ready to put it to a vote. I could wait, but I need to figure out who I’m going to tap now. Even if it hurts, I have to do my job for the club.

While I’m deep in thought, Zeke plops down beside me on the right, Jace on the left. Sighing, I turn around and face the room, knowing one or both of them want to talk. Any other time, I’d want both of them to piss off, content with being alone, but surprisingly, right now, I don’t want to be alone. I need my brothers. Even if we don’t say much, I want their company for a little while.

“What’s up?” I look at each of them in turn.

Jace shakes his head, wiping a stray tear. “We know how close you and Christian were. We’re offering support. If you wanna talk or some shit.”

My lips twitch. Everyone knows I don’t talk. It’s not something I ever learned to do well. “Nah, I’m good just hanging out with you guys.”

Zeke nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you do, we’re here for you, Prez.”

“I know, brother.” Sighing, I take a pull of my beer, steeling myself for the question I have to ask. “Jace, what do you think about scrapping your position as sergeant at arms and moving up to VP?”

Jace, who had his beer tipped up to his lips, starts sputtering,the amber liquid spraying everywhere. Zeke chuckles as Jace pats his chest, trying to get air in.

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