Page 12 of Ink's Devil

Maybe I overworked my cock last night, I muse sometime later when Sheila’s left to move on to the next brother who wants his needs seen to. Oh, it perked up and did its job, but the release didn’t feel the same. Not as satisfying. Strange.

The rest of the day passes like any other Sunday, drinking and playing pool or cards with anyone who wanted a game. For once I go to bed fairly early. Well, last night I didn’t get much sleep.

I’ve been a member of the Satan’s Devils MC for four years. I’d joined the Marines when I was eighteen, did a few tours, saw shit no man should ever see, and left after eight years feeling I’ve given enough to my country. Before I joined up, I used to see the Satan’s Devils riding around my hometown of Pueblo, knew of their reputation, or enough to steer clear. But my view of them changed when I’d bumped into Mace in a bar while home on leave, got talking to him, and made a connection. After that, I sought him out after every tour, and from our chats, began to revise my opinion of the bike-loving Devils.

When I received my discharge papers, I became a prospect. Hellfire patched me in after a year. I quickly found my place working alongside Pyro and Mace in the auto-shop, which is where I spend the working week. As it’s now Monday morning, that’s where I can be found.

“Got a job for you, Ink.”

I stand and wait for Pyro’s instruction. He’s the manager here and I look to him to allocate work.

He hands some paperwork to me. “Man wants Marilyn Monroe air brushed onto the tank of his bike.”

“Yeah?” I glance down at the iconic photo. No wonder he’s given this to me. As well as being a mechanic, I’ve found I’m quite a good artist too. “No problem. I’ll start immediately.”

“Why does he get all the cushy jobs?” grumbles Mace.

Pyro mock punches his arm. “’Cause you can’t paint for shit,” he replies.

“You not taking a honeymoon, Ro?” I ask, finding it strange he’s back to work so soon after getting hitched.

“Nah. Got too many expenses with the new house.”

“Then you’ll have to save up for shit for the kid.” Money, the root of everything.

The reminder that his wife is pregnant makes Pyro beam. Then his face falls. “Early days, Brothers. We won’t be getting shit together for months yet.”

Mace and I exchange glances. We’re all convinced Mel miscarried last time due to the stress caused by Skull. But there’s always a chance it had nothing to do with that, and her body could have just rejected the baby. Christ, it’s understandable they must be worried.

I slap his back. “You need anything to stop her getting stressed, you ask, Brother. If it’s money you need, I’ve got some saved, which is yours if you want.” I have too, a few grand, not a huge amount, but I’d not hesitate about giving it up to help a brother.

Pyro nods. “Appreciate that, Ink.”

“Count me in, Bro. If you ever need to cut back your hours to be there for her, I’ll pick up the slack.” Mace isn’t going to be left out.

It didn’t really need to be said. We’re family, we step up to support each other. Whatever it takes. Once a brother takes an old lady, she becomes one of ours as well.

I settle down to work, and the next couple of days pass like any other. I do my job, go back to the compound, drink, eat and fuck. Wash, rinse and repeat. A routine, but not one that leaves me bored.

On Wednesday, I take my seat in church alongside my brothers.

Buzzard runs through the finances. Pyro raises his chin toward me when the reports from the auto-shop are favourable. Much of it down to the publicity we’ve had going out for our set-price winter checks on cars, for supplying chains and snow tyres, and keeping a good stock of new batteries for when the old ones just don’t cope with the cold. It makes up for the lack of servicing and custom jobs on bikes which tend to drop off this time of year. Weekend warriors tend to avoid winter riding.

Devil’s Ink, the tattoo parlour which is Lizard’s baby, is also doing well, and Vi, Demon’s wife, has completed her apprenticeship and become an artist herself now. Piercings, it seems, are proving a roaring trade, and of course, there’s repartee when Sparky asks Lizard exactly how many cocks he’s held in his hands.

Once Prez brings the meeting back to order, we learn takings are also up at the bowling alley, and Rusty grins, adding the explanation himself.

“People tend to look for indoor activities in the winter,” he explains. “And Steph’s idea about promoting children’s and adults’ birthday parties has taken off. Almost more bookings than we can cater for.”

“Sparky, how’s Tits Up?” Demon asks.

Sparky’s a mechanic, but brothers have been rotating the management of our strip club since Taser betrayed us and was put down.

“Good. Held auditions for a new dancer. Settled on one. She’s got some great moves. I think the customers will like her.”

Demon nods. It looks like he thinks Sparky’s doing a good job. My thought confirmed by his next words. “You want to take the management on permanently?”

Sparky grimaces. Unlike our other businesses, Tits Up opens late and stays open until the small hours. A manager’s free time is curtailed.

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