Page 3 of Smooth Sailing

They still didn’t move as the vehicle drove out of the parking lot.

Once it exited the lot, Harlan turned to them.

He glanced at Rush, but his focus settled on Big Petey.

“If I wanted in, I’d have hit the Compound, man.”

“You ride,” Pete replied.

Harlan’s wide shoulders went up and down. “Lotta men ride bikes. That don’t mean they got patches.”

True.

But this was Jackie’s boy.

“It’s time,” Pete replied.

Harlan shook his head. “I’m not a joiner.”

“Joker isn’t either, but he’s a brother. Snapper, the same,” Pete told him. “It isn’t about joining, son. It’s about family.”

Harlan had a mess of blond-brown hair and a full, thick beard that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be blond or brown, and there was even some black vying for space.

Pete could still see his lips thin in that mass of whiskers at the mention of family.

Pete was too old for this shit.

And he was tired.

He’d survived two wars with his Club. They’d lost men, to both death and dishonor. They’d put their asses on the line. They’d seen their women in danger.

Personally, he’d watched his only child, his beautiful daughter, waste away from cancer.

But he had to do this. He had to find the energy for it.

This had to happen.

For Harlan.

For Jackie.

Therefore, Pete pulled out the big guns.

“She’d want you with us, Harlan,” he said quietly. “You know that. You know it, son. I heard her say it myself.”

It was all about direct eye contact, until Pete said that.

When those words came out, Harlan looked away.

And Pete knew he was right.

He also knew Jackie died wanting that for her boy. She wanted that purpose, that solidness, that brotherhood for her only child.

And she died without him having it.

Rush entered the discussion.

“Listen, this decision doesn’t need to be made now. We’re havin’ a get-together Saturday. It starts at one o’clock. Come whenever. It’s FFO. That way, you’ll get a feel of us. Be able to make an informed decision.”

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