Page 10 of The Sins Of The Biker

The only way I’m not a fat fucker is because I train every day at the gym. There’s never a day I miss my training. It’s in my blood, part of my daily routine, and is the reason I’m built and have strength.

“Fuck off! Again? We just did them the other day.”

Did I just hear right?

“If you ever question an order from a member, you will be in for it. I’m warning you, watch it. Got it?” I make it clear to him that there will be consequences if anyone overhears his actions.

With a sigh, he tosses the greasy cloth on the ground. “Okay, okay. I’ll get the stuff to clean them.”

Two hours later, we finally finished cleaning all the bikes.

Snake went to the refrigerator in the garage and grabbed us both a beer.

Wave hollers at us to get our asses inside, as Prez wants a word.

“Fuck, Wave, can a man get a drink?” Snake yells.

Wave looks from him to me, then back to Snake. “Boy, you better get your ass in here before I make you.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up,” I whisper-growl, thinking this idiot has a death wish.

We head into the clubhouse and find my old man at the bar drinking a Corona.

“Do you want one?” He glances at Meeka, our barmaid, as he speaks. She hands him a beer with a smile, and he tosses it my way.

“Can I get one of those?” Snake interrupts, and I elbow him in the ribs.

He leans forward, trying to catch his breath.

My dad shakes his head, then faces Meeka. “Get the asshole one too.”

Snake sits on the barstool beside me, and I take the beer and skull it. “What’s up, Prez?” I try not to call him dad when we’re around the other members. I don’t think it bothers him, but it’s a respect thing. He’s earned the title of president, so I will call him that.

My dad scratches his chin.

“I have a job for you, Harley. Usually, I’d send one of my men, but I think you’re the right man for the job.” He leans in and whispers in my ear, “This job will prove to the others what a great man you are and maybe move you up the ranks to a full member earlier rather than later.”

Grinning, I answer, “I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Snake cuts in.

Turning around to face him, I growl, “Shut the fuck up! I’m talking to Prez.”

“It’s all right, Harley. Snake should tag along for this job. It’s safer in groups. You never know what might come our way, and I want you to be ready for whatever or whoever. I asked Curly to go with you too.”

“Curly?” I question, then look over my shoulder at the man who eats too many burgers and whose head is like a mop top. The reason he goes by Curly.

“You can’t be serious, Prez? Whatever it is, Snake and I can handle it.”

My father stares me straight into my eyes.

“Do not disobey me, Harley. Don’t forget your place. I’m the prez and your dad, so when I say you’re taking Curly, you’re taking fucking Curly.”

I let out a sigh, nodding, knowing I can’t win.

“Sorry, Prez, you’re right. What do you need me to do?”

“We got a new shipment of guns coming in, and I want you to handle it. Get them to the warehouse, where a prospective client will meet you there. All you gotta do is show the merchandise, and I’ll handle the rest.”

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