Page 13 of Dozer

Dozer

A couple weeks ago, the MC made a deal with the Ortiz Caribbean Cartel to distribute heroin. I knewmy old man was against the idea. He’d served twenty years in the military. He did the duty, service, and sacrifice for his country. Now, he did the same sacrifices for the MC.

That night, Texas had taken a bullet to the chest. No way was he going to make it without medical. But taking him to the hospital with a 9mm slug in the chest was going to cause questions from law enforcement.

My old man lived the motto—no man left behind. He’d been in lockup since, and I was fulfilling the promise I’d made before he drove into a shit storm of legal trouble. I’d take care of Mom.

Only problem, and the most fucked up part, was the same problem Faye always had. She already had someone taking care of her. This week his name was Steve.

Texas hadn’t made it. Dad had his arraignment, and the charges went from weapon violations to murder. We all pulled the trigger that night. Dad hadn’t killed Texas, but there had been dead bodies littering that container yard.

My dad—everyone called him Tank—had pleaded not guilty. William Banks, Willy, had promised the murder charge wouldn’t stick, but my dad could still do time on the weapons charges.

I’d learn more today.Prepare for the shit show. My mom and I had a scheduled visit in county for this morning.

I spent most of my nights in the MC. Once Levi had left my bed and headed to school, I’d crawled my ass into the shower, grabbed a cup of coffee, then headed to my mom’s place.

I rode my bike through the morning crush of cars. Mom lived in an older part of town. Nice neighborhood. Life was pretty good growing up when we were all together.

But my dad was Special Forces. He was never home for more than six months before another overseas deployment took him away again.

He’d leave in the morning, and by afternoon, Faye would have a friend to comfort her. Once I was old enough to understand, my simmering sentiments boiled into a red-hot rage.

I told my dad about the men. The fucker smiled. He knew. He fucking took the blame. He’d chosen the guys in his unit. Whatever she needed to get her through the separation was fine with him. Even if that meant another asshole getting their dick wet in his wife.

So much for the code of not touching someone else’s old lady.

I rode into the driveway and rested my bike next to a hybrid compact with bumper stickers on the back. Who was she fucking now, the barista from Vintage brew?

I opened the door and entered the house. “Mom?”

“You’re early. I..ah…I was just having coffee with a friend.” She rushed over and kissed my cheek. She wore a robe, tied tight around her waist, and her hair was a tumbled mess.

A tall guy, probably in his mid-thirties came into the living room tucking his pink, button-down shirt into his beige, skinny joggers. His polished, pointed, brown shoes pissed me off. Blond hair, wetfrom a recent shower, pulled into a man-bun on the crown of his head. This wasn’t the Steve I met a couple weeks ago.

“Blaine, this is my son, Kevin.”

I glared at my mom, plucked a cigarette from my pack, and clamped it between my lips. “It’s Dozer.”

“Baby, take it outside. Don’t smoke in the house.” I flicked open my Zippo and lit the cigarette.

“Dude, your mom asked you to smoke outside.”

I stuffed the lighter into my pocket and blew a curl of smoke toward the ceiling. “Does it look like I give a shit? Time for you to go. Stay gone because she’s married.”

“Kevin, stop this.”

“Fix your hair.” She had the just fucked look. “And it would be nice if you didn’t smell like dick for Dad.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The guy flicked his head as if his hair wasn’t already tied up in a bun. “Not cool to disrespect your mom.”

Nah, much better for her to shit on my dad. My dad tolerated her infidelity, but he wasn’t participating in it. My mother fucked randoms while my father was in the country club.

That was what the fuck was wrong with me. The only difference between me and my old man… I’d want to watch. I never claimed not to be a hypocrite. I wanted Pippa, wanted her screaming my name as she came on Romeo’s cock.

I didn’t need a shrink to diagnose I had mommy issues.

“Time to go, asshole.” I grabbed him by the shoulder.

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