Page 1 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

Prologue

ETHAN

My brother, the head of the Rebel Barbarians Motorcycle Club, sent us out on a mission to eliminate the rest of the living members of the Midnight S.S. Now that they’re gone, we have no more enemies out West, no more enemies chasing after Oske’s land that partly belongs to us.Shaw land.I don’t care too much about the land situation, but I hate having to step out of my routine.

I report the good news to Wyatt and stay at mom’s house nearby instead of getting a head start on Boston. I donotwant to catch Ruger Blackwood in my apartment. I warned him not to fuck in my bed, but I know Ruger. It would have been just as good if I issued him a decreemandatinghe fuck in my bed. I’ll have to throw it out.

Mom loves having me over at her second home in Springfield. It’s her “party house” – lots of wine and lots ofReal Housewiveson the television. She makes me feel like a kid again, the rare times I visit. It’s hard seeing her without dad. It’s like she’s missing a piece of her. I don’t think a woman will ever love me the way mom loved dad. Her kitchen is stuck in 2006 – Tuscan themed. There are formica brown quartz countertops, a kitchen island, and grapes painted on the walls. A little wooden sign that says “it’s wine o’clock”. The smell of mom’s kitchen reminds me of high school.

The half-finished bottle of wine on the kitchen island reminds me of high school even more. I’m glad Tylee isn’t sitting at the dining room table bitching over basic fucking algebra. I don’t miss her whining. Mom cooks steak whenever I visit. Tonight, the steak and wine combination smells incredible.

I place a few more bets on my phone and shove it into my pocket as the little burst of relief floods my brain. Won my bet on the German pretzel cutting competition, but lost the Canadian College Curling finals.Fuck.At least I have enough in the account to bet some more.

“Ethan. When are you going to get married?”

“Can you at least wait until we finish the first bottle of wine?”

“Wyatt got married. Owen got married. What’s wrong with you? Your dad always said you were the most handsome.”

“Mom…”

I take my flask out of my cut. If I’m going to hear another lecture about my relationship status, I’ll need something stronger than my mom’s fancy ass Finger Lakes wine from that weekend trip I sent her on last month. Whiskey burns down my throat, but unfortunately, I’m just face to face with mom once I put the flask down.

“I’m serious,” she says, raising her plucked eyebrows and giving me her most serious sea-green stare. Mom… She was a born and raised biker chick. Dad kept his old lady by his side with a pistol in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Mom always wanted him – even when he was married to someone else. She never hid that from us, which made dad clear his throat disapprovingly in her direction a few times. Mom wasn’t ever afraid of him.

She’s too much of a badass. She quit smoking when we were kids, but once in a while, she misses them and has one out on the porch.

“Any woman who wants to be a part of this life is crazy. Unlike dad, Wyatt, or Owen, I have no desire for a crazy woman.”

“Then find a boring woman. Lots of women hang around the club house. Find a nice Oklahoma girl and settle down.”

I bristle. Sleeping in a cold bed every night might be hard, but putting up with the personality of an unbuttered slice of bread would be worse. Wyatt and Owen might have tied themselves to women with a screw loose, but at least they won’t be bored.

“I don’t need a woman. I have gambling and… you know.”

“I don’t,” my mother says sternly. I dry swallow. It’s not like I don’t talk to my mom about my problems but… the older I get, the less I want to spill my guts.

“Situationships.”

“What the fuck is that, Ethan?” she says, taking a swig right out of the bottle. Okay, she’s tipsy. Mom always switches from the glass to the bottle when she’s appropriately tipsy.

“Sleeping around.”

She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “That’s a good way to end up like Ruger. Or Owen.”

Ruger was married to Darlene. Owen and Kaylee-Marie had known each other for almost a decade. Sleeping around didn’t cause those babies out of wedlock. Loving the wrong person did.

“I can’t force a woman to be with me.”

“Why not?” she says. “Force her by proving to her you’re a good person.”

“Mom.”

She looks at me. Right at me. In only the way a mother can.

“I’m not a good person,” I tell her once I have her attention. My mom shakes her head.

“You just want to be difficult.”

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