Page 36 of Hounds Ascend
The last time I was attacked by the Moccasins, they were directly attacking me to get to Cass. Now, they don’t seem to give a fuck one way or the other who it is they hurt. They’re attacking this entire fucking club. The more I think about and register what is going on, the more I seethe with fury.
These low-life, bottom of the barrel junkies are trying to kill Hounds because of a war thattheystarted.
“This is bullshit,” I say, looking around the clubhouse.
“Yeah.” Scott’s one-word response tells me that he isn’t going to say very much on the matter. He was like that sometimes when it came to club business. The front door to the clubhouse opens, catching my attention. I hold my breath as I stare at the stranger. A man seemingly in his fifties with metal-framed spectacles and a black suitcase-like bag is walking through the clubhouse. He’s dressed in a normal t-shirt and blue jeans with black shoes. His face is grim as he approaches Gater, who’s still seated on the floor next to Old School.
The man kneels and opens his bag, making it quite obvious he’s a doctor. Unable to watch anymore, I turn away from the scene before me and walk to the other side of the room where there are a few tables set up near a vending machine that’s filled with cigarettes.
I’ve been hanging out here so much, I know wherethe key for the machine is and quickly undo it, grabbing a pack of menthols and a lighter from inside. I light a cigarette and sit in the nearest chair.
I slip my hand into my pocket in search of my phone, but come up empty. It must’ve fallen out in the scuffle between me and the Moccasin I was fighting for my life. There’s no way I’m getting my hands on it anytime soon, either. I imagine Cass and Snapper will be busy for a while with him, especially considering the condition they found Old School in when they got here.
That’s a sight I’m not sad I’m missing out on. I can already picture the look Cass got that sends chills down my spine, and not the good kind. He’s a force to be reckoned with when someone messes with what’s his. Almost on cue, I hear a howl echo from the meeting room. It almost makes me laugh. He had come in here expecting things to go a completely different route, but now listen to him.
I’m grateful that I don’t have to be the one to kill him, though. I replay the events of the evening in my head as I take one last pull from my cigarette then dab it out in the ashtray. My mind traces over every detail, everything that I could or should have done differently. Sighing, I stand up from the table and head upstairs.
The first thing on my list of things to do is shower, and fuck does it feel good to scrub myself clean. I stand beneath the shower head, soaking in the steam and hot water that flows down my body. I wash away all the bullshit, all the worries,all of everything that’s unwelcome in my life. For only a few moments, I need peace and tranquility and I’m trying my damnedest to achieve it.
But just like anything else, it’s short-lived. A knock on the bathroom door cuts through the silence that I was very much enjoying.
“Yeah?” I try and fail to hide the irritation in my voice.
“Cass sent me up here. Said to tell you to pack your bags and get ready to leave.” Scott is on the other side of the door, barking out Cass’s orders.
I roll my eyes. “Alright.”
Toweling off, I go straight to the closet and pack a bag like a good girl, doing what I’m instructed. At least if we’re leaving together, then I might get some sort of explanation on what’s going on. He has to have gained some intel from the man in the meeting room.
I slip on a pair of jeans, my favorite black riding boots, and a cream-colored long sleeve shirt, just in case we’re taking the bike. When packing, I make sure to roll my clothes up and conserve as much space as possible, tossing them into a small bag that’ll fit in the saddlebag if necessary.
Once I’m ready, I grab my things and head downstairs. Cass, Gater, Snapper, and Leo are sitting at the bar and Shorty’s bartending. Old School is nowhere to be found, neither is the doctor. All heads spin in my direction as I approach the bar.
“Hey, baby.” Cass wraps an arm around my lower back, pulling me into him.
“Hi,” I whisper, kissing his temple.
“We’re gonna be leaving soon.”
“Okay, baby. Hey, do you have my phone?” I ask.
“Yeah, here. Gonna have to replace the screen, but it still works.” He hands me the broken phone as I set my bag down in the chair beside us. Shorty approaches our side of the bar and hands me a drink. That’s exactly what I need right now to take a little bit of the edge off.
The blood that was splattered on the floor before I went upstairs has been cleaned up, but that visual will be burned into my brain for a lifetime.
“Is Old School gonna be okay?” I ask, terrified of what the answer will be. When Cass won’t look me in the eye, along with everyone else at the bar sitting in silence, I get my answer. My heart shatters inside my chest.
“He was bleeding internally, and it was bad. The doctor gave him a sedative. Says he will pass sometime during the night, but he won’t be in pain.” Cass takes a swig of his beer and sets it down on the bar. A hint of a tear glistens in his eye for a second before he gains his composure and his face is stoic once again. My heart hurts, not only for the loss of Old School, but for Cass’s loss.
Footsteps behind me catch my attention and I’m still jumpy, whipping my head around like the exorcist. It’s only Scott. My shoulders relax a bit and Cass squeezes my side for reassurance. I turn back around to face the men that I now consider my family. I take a sip of my drink and when the Crown Apple hits mystomach almost instantly, I realize I haven’t eaten today.
The guys are sitting around telling stories about Old School and I simply sit here quietly and listen. I listen to them talk about their memories of him as well as things they had only been told. Evidently his real name was Leslie, but no one would have dared to call him that. He once hit one of his brothers over the head with a pool stick because he continuously warned him not to call him by his first name and the guy did it anyway, so Old School broke the pool stick across his forehead, splitting both the pool stick and his head open. He ended up with eighteen stitches and became an example of why you don’t call him Leslie.
I laugh at the thought of Old School being so ruthless when he’s always been so kind to me.
“The first day I met him, he hit on Carrie and told her that she’d look better with a patch than a prospect,” Leo chuckles.
“Sounds like some shit he’d say. He was a sucker for the ladies. I bet you back in his heyday, he’d have stolen any one of our ol’ ladies,” Cass says, tugging at my hip. The smile he wore is not that of a happy man. It is one of a hurt man, a hurt man who was smiling to keep from breaking down. I’ve never seen this side of Cass and it’s strange to me. I’m used to a happy Cass, hell lately I’ve even gotten used to an angry one, but this? This is different and I don’t know how to handle it. I decide I’ll do the only thing I know how and that’s to leave him be. Let him reminisce with his brothers.
