Page 3 of King
No better time than now to let her know last night is the last time we will ever fuck. It’s time she moves on.
“Janie! Get the fuck up!”
Chapter Two
KING
Church
Everyone’s sitting shoulder to shoulder, crammed into the largest room we have at the clubhouse. It won’t be too long, and I’ll have to expand it so all of us can fit comfortably in one room. We have new prospects which will add to the amount of people in this room if or when they patch in. This means we also need to expand the living quarters too. As of right now, some are crashing wherever they can.
All these grown damn men crammed in this small ass room and in the clubhouse is getting fucking ridiculous. The smell of fucking body sweat, sex, weed, and cigarette smoke is damn near nauseating. That’s how I know I’m getting too old for this shit. Things that didn’t bother me when I was younger and are normal in this life, now got on my damn nerves.
I glare at Gavin, my baby brother who we call Saint, as he slips into one of the vacant chairs at the back of the windowless room. There are only three of us. Me the eldest, Reaper, the middle son, and Saint, the baby. I don’t know why in the hell he thinks he can slide in without me noticing because I notice every fucking thing. You’d think he’d know that by now.
He flips Reaper off. However, I ignore their childish behavior because we have more pressing shit to deal with. Technically, Saint isn’t late, but as the Prez of this chapter, and them being my brothers, I expect more from him and Reaper than the other brothers. What they do will always be a reflection on me as President. It can’t look like I show them any favoritism on anything even when they do decide to slide their asses into Church after the time I want them to be here. So, technically he isn’t late, but he isn’t on King time and by the look on his fucking face he knows it. Something I’ll address with him as soon as we are done with Church.
We haven’t had the best relationship since he got home from prison three years ago. I know he thinks I’m a hard ass towards only him and not Reaper, or the other brothers for that matter. But that isn’t the case at all. I’m a hard ass to everyone in this room. Blood doesn’t have a factor in that because it’s my nature.
Everyone has to stay in line. It’s the reason outlaw motorcycle clubs have a fucking hierarchy and it's one of the reasons Sin City MC is at the top not only in California but on the entire west coast. People know not to fuck with us because of how we run our chapters, especially this one. So, if as Prez, I don’t put up with members’ bullshit, I sure as fuck won’t put up with anyone else’s.
Leadership starts with me.
When shit goes wrong or right with the club, it starts and ends with me because I’m the one wearing the president’s patch on my cut. Nobody else. And I take that responsibility very serious. Everyone in this chapter is under my protection. Under my leadership from the whores to the prospects, to the brothers including my blood brothers to their Old Ladies.
But I didn’t lie to Saint when I told him how much he disappointed me when he got sent up. I don’t sugarcoat shit for anybody, let alone somebody that’s my fucking blood that I love unconditionally. Everybody deserves to hear the truth, from someone who wants nothing but the best for them, especially him. He should be a fucking priest giving absolution or penance right now, not a tattooing ex-con sitting in a clubhouse full of motherfuckers who don’t give a shit about anything.
He's different from us.
He’s a better man than any of us sitting in this room. I can’t understand why he can’t see that.
For the past seven years, it has been hard getting shit straight between us especially when I don’t know what the hell is wrong in the first place. Yes, I’m disappointed in the path he chose, which landed him in prison for seven years, but what the fuck can I do about it now? And what the hell did that have to do with us today? All that shit is in the past, at least for me it is. He’s done his time and as long as he doesn’t fuck up again, what happened in the past is just that–the past.
Before Saint went to prison, I had my own life. I was prospecting with the New Orleans chapter of Sin City after getting into some trouble, trying to get my own life straight before coming back to Oakland. I didn’t even think Saint would be caught up in shit like that. Reaper? Yes. Saint? Nah. He’s the good one out of all of us. I couldn’t believe it when Reaper called and told me the news.
But now he’s a grown motherfucking man and has served his time. Back then, I was scared shitless for him while he was on the inside. Did everything I could do on the outside to keep him safe while he was in there. Padded as many pockets as possible to do whatever needed to be done to keep him safe. The Warden, guards, anyone, and everybody. Something to this day he doesn’t know anything about. And I would do it all over again if it meant he’d come out of there alive.
But he’s free now. His life is going good. His business,Forbidden Ink, is one of the most lucrative of all the club’s businesses and the most successful tattoo shop in Oakland. Hell, I’d bet money it’s one of the most successful in California. He’s been featured in magazines and has a ton of clients, celebrities, and regular people. He’s doing extremely well for himself despite being an ex-con. I’ve let all that shit go a long time ago and I wish he could too.
With all that said, I don’t believe that’s all that’s happening between us. We are brothers. Family. And families don’t see eye-to-eye on everything all the time. But I have the feeling he’s keeping something from me. Not club shit. Club shit he wouldn’t be bold enough to keep from me. But personal shit he can get away with. Personal shit, I haven’t been able to figure out because he makes sure he’s never around long enough for me to question what the hell’s going on with him.
He stays away from the clubhouse for days on end unless we have a run or a get-together. He’s even started dodging our parents. Not taking their calls or going by to see them. That’s when I came to the conclusion whatever he’s hiding has to do with our Da. If I were a betting man, I’d bet my life on it. He would never separate himself from our Ma unless something major went down because he’s a mama’s boy. And the frosty relationship between Da and him is all the proof I need.
My two brothers are closer than I am to either of them. I believe our age difference plays a big role in the strain on our relationship, but he’s shut me completely out of his life unless it has to do with the club. No matter what I do to correct things, it seems the divide between us only gets wider with each passing day. Not something I want, but also something I can’t really rectify if he isn’t willing to meet me halfway. I’ll have to tackle the situation with my brother after all this shit calms down with the club.
I’m getting too old for all this shit.
“Church is in session,” I say after the door closes and the last patched member takes their seat.
I wait for everyone’s attention to shift to me.
“I spoke with Grimm.”
I rake my hand through my hair and pull on my beard. Frustration and anxiety about the coming storm weighs heavily on me. We have enough shit going on with another mc testing the boundaries of our territory when they set up shop in San Francisco. Even the Bianchi’s and Russians will do minor shit sometimes. Honestly, the only ones that mind their fucking business are the Cartel. But this is a new level of shit we’re dealing with, especially from the mafia.
“That’s the reason for this emergency meeting,” I continue.
The Mother Chapter in Las Vegas will always remain quiet unless shit’s about to hit the fan and it might affect other chapters, or we are doing a large get-to-together with all the brothers whether that’s a barbeque, wedding, or funeral. Whatever we have to do to support each other we do. But if you hear from the Vegas chapter, you know either shit’s really bad or shit’s going really good. This time, shit’s really bad. However, they’re our brothers, so if helping them brought shit to our door then so be it. That’s what being a Sinner meant.
