Page 2 of Brick

One

Five decades ago…

“Ezra Hairston.”

The short boy with the russet hair cringed as he heard his real name called out. This had happened on the first day of school in every grade since he started kindergarten. He was convinced the teachers in the school were idiots, as he hadn’t gone by that name in years.

“Here.” The titters of the other students punctuated his grunted response. He pulled out a pocket knife and carved new letters into the already scarred desktop.

“Do you have another name you go by?” was the next question asked. Every year, he gave the same response.

“Yeah. Call me Brick.”

“Brick?”

“Yeah. Brick. My road name.”

The woman looked confused. It was the same expression of every teacher he'd had so far. Don’t these bitches talk to each other? Brick cut deeper into the wood, making the D more defined and the surface of the desk more uneven.

“Road name? Like where you live?”

Brick put the knife down and leaned back in the hard wooden seat. “Road name as in my club name. My daddy’s in the Dragon Runners MC.”

The woman paled. Obviously, she’d heard of the club and the reputation. She dropped her eyes and fumbled with her pen as she marked his preference in her roster of students. “Um… okay, Brick it is.”

Brick sighed in irritation. He didn’t mind school, but he was looking forward to being done with it. Only six years left until he graduated and could prospect to be a full patched member of the motorcycle club. His only goal since the cradle had been to join the group of hardened men. His father said he was stubborn as hell, and once a thought or goal lodged in his mind, it would take a dynamite blast to get it out. “Hard as a fuckin’ red brick” was Jesse’s favorite description of his son, and he used it often. Luke, Jonah, and Isaac were older, but only he and Isaac had any serious interest in the club life. Their mother died just after Brick turned four, and he only had vague memories of being cuddled against a soft bosom smelling of vanilla and a woman’s voice, full of love, singing to him.

Jesse was the leader and cofounder of the Dragon Runners MC along with his biker brothers Bear, Blackjack, Walrus, Scottie, and Bugs. It started with their forefathers running moonshine across state lines during the prohibition era and had grown into running drugs and other contraband. The most followed route was the portion of Highway 129 known as the Tail of the Dragon. Other roads, like the Diamond Back, Moonshiner 28, and the Devil’s Triangle, were also regular runs, but the Tail was the most used and most direct.

Jesse wasn’t bad as a widowed father. Brick was taught to say “yes, sir” and “no, sir” from an early age, and to respect the people who deserved it. He knew his father cared about him, but he wasn’t particularly active as a parent. Jesse made sure there was food in the house, but if Brick wanted to eat, he had to cook it himself. He had clothes to wear, but if he wanted them cleaned, he had to do his own laundry. Brick became independent quicker than many of his schoolmates, but he never considered this to be a bad thing. Jesse didn’t hide his lifestyle from his sons, and Brick learned quickly what he could and couldn’t share with people outside of his house and club. Cursing was a normal way of communication between his all-male family, and they were treated to a steady stream of women who came to live with them. Their purpose was cooking, cleaning, and warming Jesse’s bed, and they stayed for a year or two before they left and someone new showed up. “I like having a woman around, but no one can ever take the place of your mama. Ain't no woman good enough to wear my ring again.” Another of Jesse’s favorite lines.

Brick glanced at the other two boys sitting in the back of the classroom, Taz and Deuce. They were his friends and sons of the other Dragon Runners. Deuce was sporting a black eye, and Brick suspected it was a gift from his father, Blackjack. If Brick were to guess, Deuce’s younger brother, Spade, wore the same black eye, and their mother too. His lips tightened at the dark purple bruise. More than once, he’d asked Jesse to say or do something, and more than once, he’d gotten shot down.

“Ain’t none of your concern what a man does under his own roof. Blackjack is my brother, an’ I ain’t tellin’ him his business.”

Brick seethed in silence.

A tentative knock followed by the wooden classroom door opening caught his attention. Mr. Atwood, the school principal, entered, followed by a new girl. A wave ran through the room as every student sat up straight to get a look at the newcomer. She wore a mud-colored dress that did little to hide an impressive chest and rounded hips. Her plain brown hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, and she hunched into herself as she met the twenty pairs of eyes fixed on her.

“We have a new student, Betsey Fullerton. She and her family just moved here from Mineral Springs, and her father is the head minister at First Methodist Church. Let’s everyone welcome Betsey and help her learn her way around.”

Several “Hi, Betseys” popped up from multiple students, but Deuce’s comment rang out over them all.

“Damn, look at the size of them titties. Betcha can shelve books on them things.”

The room went silent. The principal turned beet red but said nothing. Blackjack’s reputation was well known, and no one wanted to anger either him or any of the other Dragon Runners.

But Betsey was new. She didn’t know the town or the motorcycle club that many of them feared. Her blue eyes lasered to the back of the room and landed on Brick’s. The zap from that look held him in place and burned through to his toes. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t confused. She understood exactly what was uttered and why. Her expression was one of… of… contempt.

Betsey’s gaze moved to Deuce, who was laughing at his own joke. She straightened up to her above-average height, and her perfect hourglass figure became clearer even in the ugly dress. Her breasts were full and larger than most other girls of the same age. The dress nipped in sharply at the waist and flared out over her curvy hips. Brick had overheard more than one conversation from girls talking about the right skirts, the right shoes, or the right hairstyle. Betsey stood out proudly and with no apology for her less-than-fashionable appearance. She cocked a hip to the side, crossed her arms under her breasts, lifting and displaying them even more, and stared down at the laughing cocky boy with the shiner on his eye.

Brick lost his breath at the picture she presented. He reached over and popped his friend in the back of his head. “Shut up, dumbass.”

“What the fuck, asshole? I’m just messin’.”

“Mess with someone else. That girl is gonna be mine someday.”

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