3
Gerard
Iscroll through the pictures Kristen sent me of the new bouquet of flowers. It’s become somewhat of a ritual. After every date — every night spent together — I send her something new. It's been a few months since our distinguishing first date. Since that night, we have been inseparable. Well, as inseparable as we can be. Kristen is one busy woman. Constantly going to meetings and traveling, I have to fight for every second, but each battle is worth it, because when I’m with her, I’m a different man. There’s a happiness inside me I’ve never believed in. A peace I didn’t know existed. I’m pushing fifty years old, and I thought I experienced the spectrum, but once again life proves to me I don’t know jack shit.
“Gahhh.” Two bodies slam into the bar to next to me.
“Hey, Pops.” Ky smiles with Breaker in a headlock. Rough housing is nuthin’ uncommon around here. I take a look around the dimly lit room. This bar has been my home for as long as I can remember, and now it’s my son’s home too. I’ve tried to picture Kristen here time after time, but she never fits in. She’s too beautiful, refined, classy, successful — I can go on and on — for this dumpy place. Hell, for this dumpy guy, but for some reason, she has taken a liking to me, and I sure as hell have taken a liking to her. A liking so strong and potent she makes me question what’s truly important in my life. Makes me question what I really want and who I really want to be. An MC prez is really all I ever saw myself being. It’s the world I grew up in. It was a title bestowed to me like a prince from a king. Only my riches were drugs and guns and easy women. I did solid work trying to clean this club’s image up, but once a biker, always a biker, and always a reputation you shall have. Not that it’s ever bothered me. I like riding on the rugged side of the road. I like putting people on edge when I walk into a room. I like intimidation. It’s who you have to be when you’re the leader of a bunch of recklooses like these.
“We’re gonna get a poker game going tonight, you in?” Ky continues to wrestle with Breaker, tightening his chokehold.
“Not tonight, kid. Got plans.” I place my phone screen-side down and take a sip of my whiskey.
“Again?” Ky is both baffled and annoyed. We haven't been spending too much time together since Kristen waltzed into my life. “You got some ole lady you ain’t tellin’ us about?”
I scoff, swallowing the warm liquid as calmly as possible. Am I that obvious, or does Ky just think like his ole man?
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then come on, old timer, show us what you’ve got,” he challenges me, releasing Breaker from his hold.
“Be careful who you’re callin’ old,” I warn. “I can still kick your ass.” I turn to face him on my stool. “In poker and a fight.” Ky doesn’t back down. He never does, nor ever has. Not once, even when he knew he had no chance of winning. His spirit is wilder than a stallion. It’s one of the things I respect most about him. He squares right off with me, the scar across his right eye prominent and threatening.
“Then don’t bitch out. Five-card stud, five-hundred dollar buy-in in the back of the club tonight.”
My index finger twitches on my thigh. Ky knows the right things to say to get my blood flowing. A gambling man like myself usually never turns down that kind of proposition, but I have a bigger pot at stake if I don’t meet Kristen tonight.
“Nice try, but another time, kid.”
“Pussy?” Ky eggs me on, and the entire room goes quiet.
Is he being fucking serious right now? Challenging the president of this club and his father no less?
“I’d watch who you’re talking to.” I stand to my full height. That used to really intimidate Ky, when he was little, but now the fucker is only an inch shorter than me. It doesn’t work quiet as well anymore.
“You don’t scare me, Pops.” Ky’s smile grows wide. He’s looking for a fight. Just like me at his age. I never fucked with the wrong people though. Okay, that’s a complete lie. The badder, the better was how I lived life. Stupid, young, idiot. Ky isn’t as reckless as I was, but he’s still just as young and just as stupid, even if he is a highly decorated war veteran. That’s one thing not on my resume.
“Step aside before I embarrass you in front of all your friends.” My voice rumbles, low and threatening, like a lion. ’Cause I am the king of this motherfucking jungle.
“I think I’m the one who might embarrass you. You’ve been like a ghost around here, Pops, and everyone wants to know why.” Ky puts me on the spot. That little fucking shit.
“I don't have to explain a damn thing to you or anyone else. I’m the Prez, and what I do or don’t do doesn’t concern you.” I poke him right in the chest. As much as I want to rearrange Ky’s face right now, I’m going to keep my cool. Kristen is one secret I’m not ready to share. Not with anyone, even my son. She’s different. She would never fit into this world, and I would never ask her to. I don’t exactly know where that leaves us, but I’ll figure it out. I’m slowly getting torn apart, living two different lives simultaneously. The president, leader, and manager of the Baum Squad MC, and the person I am when I’m with Kristen. Just Gerard. A mechanic, a father, a biker. A nameless, faceless man who thrives on the open road with a magnificent woman clinging to his back.
“What did you tell me once? Lies spit the fuel and secrets spark the flame?”
“It ain’t nuthin’ like that, kid.” I grab the rocks glass off the bar top and shoot the last bit whiskey before sliding my phone into my back pocket. I’ve got somewhere to be. “Out of my way, troublemaker.”
Ky stands his ground, his blue eyes vigilant, wary, curious. I don’t usually keep anything from my son, so I get why he’s acting like this, but I’m the elder here, so I don’t have to explain a damn thing. Parents have secrets too, even if they can spark a flame. I don’t intend to let that happen. I just have to figure out a way to keep the conflict at bay.
It takes Ky a few drawn-out moments to finally move. We never break eye contact, and no one is dumb enough to step between us. I admire my son, I respect him, he’s a good man, but I’m not going to let him devalue my role or deface my reputation just because he wants to know what his daddy is up to.
“Smart,” I sneer.
“I’ll find out, you know,” he hisses over my shoulder as I walk by. I pause and peer at him through the corner of my eye.
“Maybe sooner than later.” It comes out more threateningly than promisingly. I slide my sunglasses down from the top of my head and stride toward the front door of the bar, each heavy step sending a message, leaving an impression.
Iam the motherfucking president, and everyone better remember it.
