Page 76 of Flyboy's Nightingale
Riley comes up on her toes kissing me. “Just come home. I love you.”
I pull her tight to my body kissing her like it’s going to be the last time I do so.
“I’ll be back. Be safe. I love you,” I tell her with my forehead pressed to hers.
“Love you!” She steep back with the other Ol’ ladies, watching us pull out like rolling thunder.
We ride for as long as possible each day, pushing to get there and get this shit over with. When we pull into the allied club’s parking lot, they are ready to party. We spend the night partying and hanging out, releasing the tension of being on the road for so long with alcohol and laughs. All the brothers take it easy so that we’re all on our A-game tomorrow with the Dazed Monkeys.
The next morning, we roll out, and in less than thirty minutes, we’re pulling up to the gates of the club. A foreboding feeling falls over me, as if this place is dying and if we stay too long, we’ll be dying with it. We park our bikes being sure to stay in a tight cluster in case there’s an attack. We move toward the broken down building as a unit. As we make it to the door, it’s pulled open, and the smell of body odor, smoke, sex, and drugs wafts out.
“Welcome, brothers.” Crispy, a man no more than five-ten, skin and bones, calls from just inside the door.
“Thank you for having us here,” Prez says, stepping up and shaking his hand.
We follow his lead into the rundown clubhouse. The inside of the club is even more worn down then the outside. Men are laying around high or drunk with club girls even higher than they are amongst them. As I continue to scan the room, one face in particular makes me wonder what is actually going on.
“Absolutely. Anything to bury the hatchet between our clubs. As you see, we had a little party last night and things got crazy.” Crispy chuckles, waving his hand around the room.
“I see one brother didn’t party as hard as the others.” Steel eyes the other man standing behind the piece of shit.
“Oh, Moose. He’s the newest brother we have, and since we don’t have any prospects, he’s still on bitch duty. Speaking of which, get us some beers!” Crispy yells out.
“Where should we sit?” Prez questions, doing his best not to turn his nose up at the state of the club.
“Well.” He turns, looking around as Moose makes his way to us.
“Prez, why not take them out to the back of the clubhouse to the picnic table?” Moose suggests.
“Aww, great idea. Men, follow me and let’s get this meeting underway,” Crispy chuckles, leading us out.
We spend exactly two hours in that man's presence, and by that point, I’m so close to snapping this man's neck that it takes all the control within me not to. Eyeing my brothers, I see that they are feeling the exact same way. Crispy tells us that there are no hard feelings, that he supports how we handled the men that infiltrated our territory.
“Well, it was great talking with you. We need to get back and get some rest for the ride home,” Prez says standing, reaching out to shake his hand.
“It was a pleasure. I look forward to working with you in the future.” Crispy’s slimy words make me want to poke my eardrums out.
We make our way around the clubhouse to our bikes, knowing with Moose standing there we’ve got nothing to worry about. As we mount up, Torch looks over at Steel having a silent conversion. We pull out onto the road heading out of Dazed Monkeys territory. We make it two territories over before stopping at a dive bar. We pull off and dismount, heading into the bar.
We take our seats watching the large T.V. over the bar. Coin goes and orders the first round. When he gets to the table, he drops down with a big sigh.
“Wow, that asshole really does think a lot of himself,” Torch says, taking a long pull of his beer.
“Do you really believe that this is the end of things with him?” Mouth Peace wonders out loud.
“Not for a second. What we’ve got to figure out is how to handle things in a way it won’t fall back on the club,” Prez says, typing away on his phone.
“Are we not going to acknowledge the fact that Owen, the jackass, was standing in that clubhouse?” Razor snaps, looking at all of us like we’re all unhinged.
“I figured he was like Beetlejuice and saying his name would summon him,” Mouth Peace says with sincerity.
I nearly spit my beer out laughing. “I mean, you’re not too far off. He does seem to pop up out of nowhere with all the fucking answers.”
“I’ve got questions for that man and the next time he turns up because this is fucking insane how he manifests with answers and all the information before we get a chance to ask for them. For now, let's sit back, eat, and drink a couple of beers before we start the haul back,” Prez suggests, leaning back into his chair.
We do just that. We eat, drink, and just hang out with brothers for the first time in nearly a year. The front door bangs open, and in walks a tall man in a suit. He comes strolling through the bar like he owns the place. When he spots us, he gives a stiff nod to Prez in acknowledgement. When he makes it to the door at the back of the bar, he gives it eight sharp taps and it swings open.
“Was that who I think that was?” Smith whispers, looking a little shocked.
