Page 7 of Guardian

“I don’t get mad that easily. I can’t. When you’ve got the strength of an ox you have to stay calm whenever possible or end up hurting someone. Besides, nothing you ask will make me angry. I know you’re just curious.”

“Have you ever been to prison?” he blurted out.

The question was unexpected and more personal than I’d expected, but not really shocking. After all, my appearance was enough to cause speculation about my past.

“No. I don’t have a criminal record. I’m not saying I’ve never done anything against the law because that would be an outright lie, and I’ll always do my best not to lie to you. I’ve done some not-so-admirable things, but I’ve never gone to prison for any of them,” I answered as honestly as I could.

“So, you didn’t get your tattoos there?” he asked.

“Nope. Some were done by my buddies and others at a licensed tattoo parlor. They’re all legit and done safely,” I told him.

“What do they mean? Mom says tattoos have meanings. Mostly bad ones.”

“I suppose some do. I admit the ones covered by my clothes may be considered among the bad ones, but those are for my benefit. They remind me to be a better man whenever I can and that I have a past that wasn’t so easy to deal with. I won’t talk about those, not even to you,” I explained.

“What does the snake on your neck stand for?” he continued with his questions.

The Serpent Sinners tat. Of course, the kid would ask about that one.

I took a moment to figure out how to explain it without telling him about the Serpent Sinners. I decided to stick to the truth without embellishing.

“It represents another club I’m in; a grownup one. We have each other’s backs the same as you and I do.”

“What about the roses?” he pushed me, his eyes lighting up with excitement and curiosity. It was infectious and one of the reasons I liked doing this program even though some of the brothers thought it made me a fuckin’ sissy.

“They stand for the people I cared about that I’ve lost,” I admitted. “You get one more, so pick carefully.”

“In that case, I choose the skull,” he said.

“I just thought that one was badass,” I replied.

Jackson giggled, as I’d intended.

Less tightlipped now, he told me, “You scared Mom. She freaked out over the tattoos and your size. She’s the one that mentioned prison. She wants me to get a different mentor. She’d have already asked for one, but she didn’t have time to talk to the administrator before you came to get me.”

“I didn’t intend to scare her or anyone else. In fact, I do everything I can to put people at ease. I’m sorry she feels that I don’t fit as your mentor. Sometimes others see only what’s on the surface, like the tats and my size, and imagine the worst because of their experiences. I understand them. I just wish they’d give me a chance to prove myself before judging me so harshly,” I explained.

Jackson leaned into the table and whispered. “Bad things happened to her because of my real father.”

I had suspected something off about the boy’s biological father from the way he spoke about him with me a few times. It was complete shit that a kid like Jackson and his mother had been caught up with such a man and been left on their own.

“I could see how that could lead her to be more cautious,” I conceded as the waitress came to take our order. Jackson animatedly got his favorite burger, the gloom of before temporarily forgotten.

When the waitress took our menus and orders and walked away, Jackson looked at me again. He spoke quietly, though he wasn’t whispering anymore.

“Mom told me something once that happened. One time a man broke into our apartment when my parents were stilltogether and held a gun to my mom’s head. He would have killed her, but the cops came. I was a baby, so I don’t remember.”

The waitress came bearing drinks; sweet teas, pausing the conversation once more.

“Mom’s still afraid he’ll come back and finish with us because he threatened to. She won’t tell me, but I’m sure my father is still doing the same stuff. I don’t see him very often. He always has an excuse, and I’ve seen men hand him money when we go to the park.”

Jackson gulped his drink, downing nearly half of it in one go. “Don’t tell Mom. She’ll freak.” Jackson admitted.

The hairs rose on the back of my neck, and I was forced to squeeze my hands into tight fists to keep from pounding on the table. The bastard who’d fathered Jackson wasn’t just into drug deals as what the boy had described proved to me, but he’d brought the trouble home to his family. That made him a worthless piece of shit who needed to be taught a lesson, one I was happily willing to give him.

I looked at Jackson, schooling my features. “I won’t mention our conversation to your mother. This is just between me and you. I have to admit that I’m glad your father doesn’t come around much. I’m sure you miss him, but he’s trouble neither of you needs. No matter what your mother decides about me, whether or not she asks for you to have a different mentor, if you need me, I’ll be there any time, night or day. I promise to do everything I can to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again to either of you,” I promised.

Leaving the kid was difficult. I feared I’d never get the chance to see him again. His mother had every right to ask that I be replaced. I couldn’t let that bother me, though. I had obligations and duties to the Sinners to handle.

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