Page 3 of The Prez

Christian and Zeke were close, working together to ensure all the bylaws were updated, fines were paid, and punishments were doled out. Even though Shane isn’t a part of the MC, he’s been around for almost ten years, becoming part of our family as our private attorney. He’s feeling the loss just as my brothers are.

Clearing his throat, Zeke looks around at the crowd. There’s quite a turn out, some of Christian’s customers from the tattoo shop where he worked as a piercer showing up to pay their respects. He would have liked that.

“Thank you all for coming today,” Zeke says, swallowing roughly before he continues. “Christian went out on his bike, with the wind on his face and his chopper under him. That’s how most of us wish to meet our end.” My brothers make a sound of agreement. I keep mine to myself. I’m not sure how I want to go out. It should have already happened. “He wouldn’t want you to mourn him. That crazy fucker told me only a few weeks back if he died before me, I better not cry.” Everyone laughs somberly and I feel my lips twitch, though I don’t let the smile bloom. I rarely do.

Zeke looks at Christian’s casket with a sad smile. “Sorry I didn’t keep my promise, VP.” He pats Christian’s casket, placing the VP patch atop it.

After that, all of my brothers come up and speak a few words about Christian, talking about his character, sharing a joke or two or just pouring some of that expensive ass topshelf whiskey Christian kept making me order for the clubhouse into his freshly dug hole in the ground.

When everyone has had their turn, I step forward with his cut, cleaned and repaired from the road rash it took when he slid across the pavement. Rooster, our treasurer, has Christian’s helmet, but we plan to mount that on our Wall of the Fallen, that includes Vincent, our last Prez; Jermaine, Zeke’s father and previous enforcer; and Rax, though he isn’t dead. We still have to keep up appearances as if he were, though.

After Rax was sent back to prison for the second time—he escaped the first time after serving seven years of his fifteen to life sentence—we had to find a way to get him out of the country without the cops coming down on him or us. We set up an accident with one of the guards—one of my distant cousin’s husbands—so Rax could be declared dead and be free to move to Cuba to live out the rest of his days. He took Finn with him, the man he kidnapped after his first escape attempt, and they’re living happily ever after in my home country. The only bad thing is Rax can never step foot back in the US, for fear that he’ll be carted off to prison and we won’t be able to get him out again. So, he misses events like funerals for his VP.

As if he heard my thoughts about him, Rax clears his throat and I look down at the phone in my hand. His nose is red, but there are no tears on his face. Other than me, Rax is the only other person that keeps his emotions close to the vest. Before he met his boyfriend, Finn, I only remember him smiling a handful of times, usually when he was beating someone’s face in with a set of brass knuckles.

“Let me see,” he says and I hold the phone up to the casket. It was closed for the service, since Christian had so much damage from falling on the pavement that the morticianwasn’t able to make him look as he once did. So, all Rax is looking at is his shiny wooden casket.

That doesn’t matter. He still speaks to it as if Christian can hear him. “Wish I could have seen you one last time, VP. You’ll be missed.” Rax is a man of few words, always getting straight to the point.

I tuck the phone back in my pocket but leave the connection open. I won’t end the call until the service is over, since Rax can’t be here in person.

Sighing, I place my hand on the casket, as if I can touch Christian one last time. “You served the Devil’s Mayhem MC well, hermano. Duerme bien.” I lay his cut over the casket, patting it twice before I step back. Rax says a few more words, Finn offers his condolences to me and the other brothers and we disconnect the call.

We all watch as the casket is lowered into the ground. Only I stay while the dirt is being thrown over it and packed down. I continue to watch as the workers clean up around the gravesite and place a marker where Christian’s headstone will go. They arrange the flowers I know Christian would hate around the placard. I bristle, but don’t tell them to stop. It’s their job, but it’s a near thing.

Dios, I didn’t think I’d have to bury one of my brothers while we’re still this young. Christian was only forty, a year younger than me. It’s always a risk to lay our bikes down from speeding or reckless riding and get caught under the wheel of a car or worse, a fucking semi, but a heart attack? None of us saw that coming.

Shuffling footsteps sound behind me and I breathe in, lips twitching again. “What’s up, Enforcer?”

Zeke chuckles, stepping up beside me. “How did you know it was me?”

“No one else is dumb enough to come check on me like I need a fucking babysitter.”

He shrugs, the leather of his cut crinkling with the movement. “Never claimed to be the smartest crayon in the box, but I have the smartest boyfriend. So, I think I’m winning.”

I look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You came to brag about your relationship?”

“Nah,” he says, nudging me. “You’re my prez. I came to check on you.”

Looking back at Christian’s grave, I nod. “Appreciate that, brother. I’m good. Just trying to make sense of it all.”

“I’m not sure that’ll ever happen. It’s probably a warning for all of us to get our asses in gear and get physicals. We’re not getting any younger.”

As far as I know, Christian hadn’t been to a doctor in the entire time I’ve known him, which was close to twenty years. We live hard lives—drinking, smoking, doing reckless shit like we’ll be young forever. None of us think about seeing a doctor about anything.

Even with this happening, I probably won’t see a doctor myself. If I die, I die. I have nothing and no one to live for besides the club. My family in Cuba are cool, but after what happened before I left, we’re not as close as we used to be. Diego, my cousin that has the connection to the cocaine we traffic, my sister, Maria, and brother-in-law, Luis, are the extent of my close connections. Maria is fucking persistent with her affection, so I’m stuck with her. Everyone else keeps me at arm’s length and I them.

Too much shit has happened for me to try to mend fences and I don’t give enough of a fuck to put in the effort.

“Shane made me an appointment for next week, so I don’t have a choice on if I go or not,” Zeke continues. “Sure wish I knew to push Christian to go.” He looks at me, eyes boring to the side of my face. “You gonna be alright?”

I dip my head once, not dragging my eyes from whereone of my oldest friends is buried. “I’m always good, Enforcer.” I look over at him, seeing the doubt in his eyes.

Since we were told Christian was dead, I’ve kept to myself not wanting to share my grief with anyone. Anytime there’s been a loss, I’ve done my duty to be there for my brothers, but I don’t want them there for me. I can take care of myself. I always do.

After a few beats of Zeke searching my face, he pulls his lips in, but nods. “We’re all waiting on you, Prez.”

Sighing, I give Christian’s grave one last long look and turn away. Zeke and I walk together to where the other brothers and some of the hangarounds and friends of Christian are standing. Christian had no family but us, no old lady, no kids, parents dead. I hope our sendoff did right by him.

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