Page 9 of Spooked
“Sure you did, fucker,” Peg responds, adding in a slap around Blade’s head for good measure.
It’s good to be back. This is what I missed—the camaraderie, the teasing. Slowing my drinking, I keep shooting the shit with my brothers for a while, until Clover, one of the sweet butts, approaches. Peg, Mouse and Blade magically disappear, reminding me I’ve never once seen them cheat on their old ladies.
As the last man standing, Clover sashays up to me. “Feel like having fun?”
I fucking wish.I know she’d do all the work were I to take her up on her offer, and before I was injured, I’d be one of the first to take advantage of her free pussy. But the thought of her jumping up and down on my shattered leg fills me with horror. The pursuit of regaining full motion in my damaged limb trumps any desire to get my rocks off. “Not tonight, darlin’.” I remove her hand from my knee.
Realising it would be pretty stupid to drink myself into a stupor, and undo all the work I’ve done to facilitate healing, and thereafter regaining my place in the MC, I place my empty glass on the bar, and exit the clubroom.
Balancing myself on the crutches, I make my way up past the blocks which house the suites where the unattached members live, continuing up to the top of the compound, where many of us have built houses. I’d claimed my plot when I’d thought I’dfound my one, and when that relationship so quickly came to an end, I’d seen no reason not to continue the build for myself.
I let myself into the four-bedroom home that’s admittedly enormous for just me, but far more luxurious than the suites the single brothers use. Placing my cut on the peg just inside the door, installed for that very purpose, I walk through the lounge, passing the kitchen that’s rarely used and, after manoeuvring up the stairs, on into the master suite.
Entering the bathroom, I shrug off my clothes and glare at the stool that’s been placed in the shower for me.
I suppose I’m lucky I’ve healed enough to be trusted to wash myself alone. While I’m not particularly bothered about my nudity, it really sucked when I was in the hospital and one of the nurses had always insisted on assisting me. But it still irks that I need to sit where I used to stand proudly.
Once clean, I fall into my bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep. Knowing I can’t put off tomorrow, when I have to face up to Bullet and Shooter, and lie about what I’ve seen.
Wishing for and getting aren’t anything close to the main thing. Nightmares haunt me throughout the night, in which I’m trying to move as though through treacle, with some amorphous, but definitely evil figure close on my heels. I wake with a jolt, sweat dampening both my face and the sheet that covers me, feeling as if I’d had no sleep, but with no desire to close my eyes and try again.
It’s too damn early, but I force myself out of bed and take another awkward shower using the plastic stool and the shower spray to wash every part of me except for my left leg. Dressing, I choose another pair of baggy jeans that I can just about manage to get over the cast, and the first tee that comes to hand.
Entering the kitchen, I study the almost empty fridge, finding only an open carton of milk. Being a typical bachelor, I normally eat down at the clubhouse rather than cooking for myself, butnone of the old ladies will be making up anything at this time of day. Grabbing some cereal out of a cupboard, I tip it into a bowl and, after sniffing to make sure it hasn’t gone bad, use the last of the milk. Which now means I can only have black coffee.Fuck my life.
Not for the first time, I wonder whether it would have been more sensible to cut down on the scale of my house. Why do I need a fully fitted kitchen when, even with all my functioning limbs, I can’t remember ever turning the stove on? The microwave gets more use than anything.
Living alone doesn’t bother me, not when just a few strides will take me to one of my brothers’ houses, or a couple of hundred yards more will take me down to the clubhouse. Not that anyone will likely be awake at this god-awful hour. Today, though, my house doesn’t seem a home to me, the space around me seems wasted, as if something’s missing.
I switch on the television, scrolling through the channels until I reach a mind-numbing film I’ve seen many times before. Nothing else has caught my attention, so I settle down on the sofa, letting my mind drift as there’s no need for me to follow the plot.
Unfortunately, my mind wanders to the revelations I’ll soon need to make to Bullet and Shooter.
I’d rather never revisit the house, even mentally, by relating everything that I saw. But seeing as I’m currently otherwise a waste of space to my club, I have to pull up my big boy pants and complete the task they’d given me.
CHAPTER SIX
HOUND
As before, I park in the employee’s parking lot behind SD Construction, enter the building and take the elevator to the top floor. I’ve not notified my brothers of the exact time I’ll be arriving, but since they are expecting me to report back today, I take a chance that at least one of them will be free. Luckily, Bullet is available, and I’m shown directly into his office.
After giving me a grin and a chin lift, he asks, “What gives, Brother?” He motions me to a chair.
Replying as nonchalantly as I can, I slap my phone down in front of him. “Got those photos that you requested.”And job done, I think to myself. I can get on with my life and forget the Sullivan House altogether.
Bullet takes my phone, holds it up to my face, then connects it to the computer in front of him. As the pictures take their time to load, to centre myself and avoid too much thought about the images he’s going to want to talk about, I ask, “What do you think of the F.O.G.s stepping back up into officer roles?”
Settling back, putting his hands behind his head, Bullet chuckles. “Those oldies have done nothing but cause mischief since they retired. I reckon they’re fuckin’ bored. The accident gave them the chance to feel useful again.”
“What if they decide to step back permanently?” I speak the words before I’m aware that I have expressed my greatest concern. Peg was always a fucking hard act to follow. Deep down inside me, I’ve always been trying to compete, comparing myself to the man who went before. What if I’ve not proved good enough, and this is an excuse to replace me? Will the brothers notice the difference and no longer want me? That wouldn’t even be a question if, going forward, I’m going to be plagued with a traumatic brain injury. Who’d want a sergeant-at-arms who can’t separate fiction from reality?
Bullet barks a laugh. “Brother, I’ve been in the club forever. Drummer was my prez from the day I prospected. He wouldn’t have stepped down if he hadn’t thought Wizard was a worthy replacement.” He pauses and purses his lips. “Change comes to none of us easily. Have to admit, I was dubious at first, but I gave Wiz a chance as he had Drummer’s backing and support.” He snorts. “But he’s proved a great prez. Different from Drum, but lacking in nothing. I’ve no issues recognising him as Prez in his own right.” He shrugs. “Same with Throttle taking over from Blade, Hawk from Wraith and,” he glances up to meet my eyes, “you taking over from Peg. You’re all the next generation, a recognition that the club has to move with the times.” He holds my gaze. “Right now, Wiz is in a bad way. Hawk, Throttle and you need time to mend. Any other club might have folded or been at the mercy of our enemies. But we’ve got Drummer, Wraith, Peg and Blade to step up to help and run the club seamlessly. With their reputations, anyone has to think twice about taking advantage of our weakness and coming for us.” He breaks off, raises and lowers his shoulders again. “Sure, they’re enjoying themselves, but I can’t see them thinking of being anything other than caretakers.” Chuckling softly, he finishes, “They’ve all been there, done that. And before the crash, I saw no signs of any of them wanting to hold officer positions again.”
Touching my temples, remembering what happened yesterday, and the doctor’s ominous warning, I admit, “I worry they’re regretting the decision to promote me to officer.”
“Fuck no.” He looks amazed. “Look, you were in a coma. I attended church during those early days after the accident. If those men hadn’t stepped back up, we’d have been floundering. It’s not a judgment on you, Brother, it just is what it is.” He grins and leans forward, adding confidentially, “They are enjoying themselves, but it’s only with the knowledge it’s temporary. I’m actually one of the F.O.G.s myself, and once retirement beckons, it’s not something you give up voluntarily.”
“But you’re here,” I counter. “Running SD Construction like you always have.”
