Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Now it’s back, and while carrying it around among my club brothers feels like handling radioactive waste, the comfort of being able to reach down my pocket and stroke its plastic surface brings too much relief to give up on it.
If only he’d given me a good reason for killing Roy, I would have gobbled it up like a fish enticed by a fresh worm. I would let that hook pierce me and get pulled back in by Road.
But since he couldn’t give me that, there’s no way I can justify running to him just because I’m lonely. Just because I miss him. Just because every day without his presence is torture. I didn’t even realize how deep in with him I was until it hit me.
“How much?” Puck asks me out of the blue, holding out his baseball cap as though he’s part of some fundraiser. At least he’s not annoyed by my confused expression and gives me a crooked smile. “For the fight, Clyde. We’ll have some fights by the garages. Old-school, bare knuckles. I’m taking bets. How much you in for? Big Tom and Kalash are up first.” He points to the two men enjoying a drink together like they’re not going to punch each other’s teeth out soon.
Big Tom is a member from our chapter. Tall, broad, with a massive belly, and fists like two steins of beer. Kalash is the VP of the Bend chapter, and while smaller, he’s a mean motherfucker with pupils like two black holes and under-eye bags that make him look as if he hasn’t slept for days. He got his nickname while he was still a prospect. The chapter went on a trip to retrieve drugs from all the way down in Tijuana, and he apparently used a Kalashnikov to mow down several cartel members unhappy about the deal.
I used to think it was a cool story. Now I just want to be back home, staring at the TV while I drink enough coffee to keep me from falling asleep and dreaming about Road stringing me up on the same crane where he murdered Roy.
When did I become such a mess of a human being?
Cigarette smoke swirls through the air, blurring the glow of ambient lights and neon signs advertising booze. Its odor is choking me, and I can’t breathe as I throw a ten-dollar bill into the hat, just so Puck leaves. I should root for our guy, but I can’t enjoy the friendly rivalry between chapters tonight.
Maybe I should volunteer for a fight to get myself beaten unconscious? At least then my brain would stop fucking with me.
I exchange some words with Puck, but it feels like an interaction through a sheet of plastic. He has no idea how far gone I am. I’ve already betrayed them all by what I’ve done with Road, and keeping his secret is the last straw. If my uncle knew, he would shoot me like a rabid dog.
I always thought that once I joined, my loyalty to the Butchers would be the North star in my life. Road shot it down, and it’s nowhere to be seen. I don’t know who I am without it. And without Road.
Huge boots emerge at the edge of my vision, and I lift my head to see a skeleton riding a hog. As my gaze moves up the T-shirt, I realize Kalash approached me when I was so deep in my miserable thoughts I forgot I’m not alone in the stuffy bar crowded by bikers and hangarounds.
“You’re Roy’s brother!” he says and knocks his beer bottle against mine.
I don’t know where this is going, but Kalash was cozy with my brother, so he probably wants a chat or some shit for old times’ sake.
“That would be me.”
“I heard you set that bomb in the Vulture warehouse. Bold move, even if it fucked you up for a while. Alive and kicking though, I see!”
“Can’t keep a Butcher down,” I say the cliché and clink my bottle with his. I take a big swig, wishing I was blackout-drunk already. My alcohol tolerance is at times a blessing, at times a curse.
And there comes the inevitable. “You must miss him. Roy was such a bad boy. You never knew what he was gonna come up with,” Kalash says loudly enough I hear him over the chatter and the music filling the club bar. “I heard you guys finished renovating the boxing room he wanted. Nice touch in his memory. Guys like him deserve to be remembered.”
“You wanna go see it?” Because why the fuck not? It’s not like I have anything better to do. At least I’ll be away from the crowd, and far from the women eying me like they wanna jump my dick.
Kalash grins and gives my shoulder a friendly slap that feels way too firm. Then again, maybe it’s me who’s not grounded enough to enjoy normal human interaction?