Page 32 of Red's Peril: Part 1

Peg, a man who rarely, if ever, takes advantage of the sweet butts, walks over to me. I have a beer at the ready, but he shakes his head, holding up the one he’s only half drunk.

“You and Slick ready to give us some entertainment tomorrow night?”

Drummer likes his men to be fit. Not only are we encouraged to train regularly, and under Peg’s instruction I’ve certainly muscled up, there are regular spar nights in the gym. Prospects aren’t allowed to be matched against members, so up to now, I’ve been limited to fighting Wraith. At the beginning, he’d had a definite advantage, but over the months I’d started to level things up.

“I’m up for that. I’d like to see what he’s made of.” I half-turn the other prospect’s way.

“I’ll pulverise you,” Slick murmurs into my ear, having overheard.

“In your fuckin’ dreams,” I retort.

Having got fed up with bruised ribs and black eyes, I’d taken benefit of Peg’s pointers and Wraith’s willingness to let me use him as a punching bag, and now keep my skills topped off. I’m confident in my new skills and enjoy using them.

It’s not as if we actually want to kill each other, I muse as Peg, now more comfortable with his prosthesis, walks off. A busted nose or broken rib is about the worst of it, and that’s only a lesson to be sharper the next time.

Knowing we all have the ability to protect each other’s backs, understanding the weakness and strengths of the men you ride with, is what this brotherhood is about, and why I so much want to be a part of it.

A sudden scream, a loud slap, and a screech of protest pulls me out of my reverie. As my eyes search the disturbance out, I see Wraith looking bemused, with Pussy standing over Raquel who’s lying on the floor.

“Bitch fight!” Tongue yells out. “Oh yeah.”

Slick raises his eyebrow at me as he catches my eye in atold you sokind of way. Yeah, there does seem to be trouble in the club girl’s version of paradise.

But as prospects, we’re then overrun with orders for drinks. To our disappointment, neither of us see the outcome, and we lose any interest in finding out what it was all about.

The next day, Slick and I work side by side in the auto-shop, each helping the other out when necessary. When evening comes, our personalities undergo a change and we’re ready to beat the hell out of each other. As we march back into the clubhouse, our camaraderie put on the back burner for now, I’m amused to see Raquel sporting a black eye, but as I’m not talking to Slick, I don’t bother pointing it out.

Peg does the honours, calling us into the ring and announcing the bout, warning the brothers to stay back if they don’t want to get splattered with blood. He’s beefing it up, trying to scare the shit out of us, but Slick catches my eye and I don’t miss his wink.

If it’s a show the club wants, a show is what they’re going to get. We come together, at first just circling, bluffing, trying to get the measure of each other. Then my first punch kicks the shit off. As it turns out, we’re evenly matched. In the Satan’s Devils version of MMA, when time is called, we’ve each picked up a few bruises, but nothing to write home about. I’m declared winner on points, which I think is right, and Slick’s magnanimous handshake suggests he’s not too disappointed.

But he does point his fingers at my eyes then his. “Next time,” he warns.

“Bring it on,” I respond, dancing on my heels and throwing a few practise punches.

“Good job, Prospects.” Drummer walks up. I swear both Slick and I stand taller. “Got a run tomorrow. Want you in on it, Red. Slick, you stay here on the compound.”

He’s gifted with two sharp nods. We’ve got our orders and will obey them. Me? I’m over the moon that while no doubt I’ll be kept out of the action, for the first time since I put on my cut, I’m going to be involved in club business. This is no pleasure run, I’ve heard brothers talking, though they’ve kept the details to themselves.

As a prospect, I know fuck all about the workings of the club, other than what I’ve been told or what I pick up from standing behind the bar. Tending bar has been quite an education. By watching and listening and examining body language, my knowledge has expanded. Now with an extra personal interest, when Drummer, Lefty, Peg and Blade get into a huddle, from their expressions and gesticulations, I gather whatever we’ll be heading into the next day is serious.

Slick, also proving himself not slow on the uptake, shoots me a look of envy, to which I respond with a raise of my chin.

I’ve heard the brothers discussing the Hell’s Damnation MC, a rival club who I’d have had to be both blind and deaf not to have gathered aren’t friendly toward others. When Beef and Rock had come in hot last week, it was hard to miss the name that was sworn about in several quarters. And a few days later, when a truck tried to run Dollar and Bullet off the road, blame was assigned to the same MC. Although I’ve been told shit, I’m certain the Devils are planning retaliation, and I’d put good money down that that’s where we’ll be heading.

Bring it on. Mess with my club, mess with me.Yeah, my thoughts on the Devils have done a one-eighty.

Despite my misgivings when I first met the Satan’s Devils, I no longer regard them as violent criminals. Instead, I know this lifestyle is worth protecting, and if others hit us, then we need to hit them back. This compound alone is the envy of many, and having enjoyed its facilities and amenities, I wouldn’t be giving it up without a fight. The same goes for our businesses and property.

The thought that I might be called on to take up arms for my club no longer worries but excites me. Society might think the lengths we’ll go to protect what we own is criminal; however I no longer feel that way myself. We’re just a subset of society and deserve to keep what we’ve got.

I go to bed determined to make a good show of myself. Whatever Drummer calls on me to do, I’ll perform to the best of my ability.

Early the next morning, the brothers, their numbers now swelled by Wraith, are huddled behind closed doors in the meeting that they call church. I, like any grunt for centuries over, just wait for my orders, and for now go to the shop and get on with my work.

“They’re expecting there could be trouble here tonight,” Slick confides in me as soon as he sees me. “Blade told me I’ll be on guard duty.”

“Know who’s staying with you?” One man can’t defend the compound on his own, so someone or someones are bound to be left with him.

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