Page 3 of Smitty

SMITTY

Pulling into the Vault always felt like I was heading into work. I’d stand guard with the others, always sitting on go in case one of the brothers called on me, and if I managed to get out of there without a black eye or a bloody nose, I considered myself lucky. That was the life of a prospect, but that time for me had come and gone.

I was a brother now. I knew things would be different, but I hadn’t expected it to be obvious the second I walked through the damn door. Before, the girls barely gave me a second glance, not unless they needed something or wanted to shoot the shit. I was just a buddy. I was just Smitty.

Nothing more.

Now, every pair of eyes seemed to track me as I crossed the room, and the girls weren’t looking at me like I was good ol’ Smitty. They were looking at me like I was someone they wanted to sink their nails into, and they didn’t hold back. Their hands brushed against my arm when I passed, and a few of them whispered offerings of a good time later tonight.

There was a time when I would’ve soaked up that kind of attention, and no one would blame me. These women were undeniably beautiful with looks that would bring any man to his knees, and they were throwing their attention at me. Any man would’ve felt ten feet tall, and a piece of me did. But another part of me knew it wasn’t real.

They weren’t seeing me.

They were seeing the patch. The protection. The money.

If they managed to tie up with a brother, it could be their way out. I couldn’t blame them. They worked their asses off and just wanted a chance to turn their lives around. But I wasn’t that chance. I’d gotten it in my head months ago that I didn’t want somebody hanging around because of what I had to offer. I wanted what I had and lost. I wanted something honest, something real, something that made the rest of the world go quiet when she looked at me. I wasn’t going to find that at the Vault.

I continued over to my spot next to Goose. The second he spotted me, his mouth twitched. “Well, well, well. You survived the night.”

“Barely,” I scoffed. “That second fifth about took me out.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna feel that for a day or two, but you’re young. You’ll bounce back.”

“Tell that to my pounding head.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease my aching back. “Took a handful of ibuprofens, and the motherfucker still feels like it’s about to crack open. But I wouldn’t trade it for nothing.”

“Yeah, I remember the feeling. Nothing like it.”

There was something about the way he said it that settled deep in my chest. He wasn’t joking around. He knew what last night had meant to me. It meant the same to him. Like so many of us, we were both looking for somewhere to belong, and we’d found it with Fury.

“What about you?” I leaned against the bar, feeling the music vibrate against my chest. “You and Pres have a good night?”

“Yeah, but we had to call it pretty early. She had to work this morning.”

“That’s no fun.”

“What can I say?” Goose shrugged. “Responsibilities will bite you in the ass every damn time.”

“You ain’t lying.”

“You got plans for tomorrow?”

“That depends.” I cocked my brow. “Why you asking?”

“I’ve gotta pick up a new regulator for my bike. Found it at a garage across town. Thought you might be up for riding over with me.”

It was a simple invitation, but it hit me square in the gut.

It wasn’t an order. It wasn’t some stupid task for a prospect. This was something more, and while it probably didn’t mean a whole lot to him, it certainly did to me. I tried to hide the emotion from my face as I nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m in.”

“Good deal. We’ll head out about ten?”

“Sounds good.”

The rest of the night rolled by fairly easy. There were no drunken brawls, no drunk assholes putting their hands where they didn’t belong, and no brothers disappearing into the office with fierce expressions that always seemed to signal that something bad was about to go down. It was just music, pretty girls dancing, and folks trying to forget whatever waited for them on the other side of those front doors.

I stayed at my post with Goose for the better part of the night, helping wherever I was needed and talking shit when things slowed down. Every once in a while, a brother would stop to congratulate me again with a clap on the shoulder or a drink I didn’t need.

An hour in, Memphis wandered over, looking tired as hell, and Seven was right behind him. Both of them had that worn-down, weight-of-the-world-on-their-shoulders expression, like they’d spent the whole day dealing with one problem or another. Memphis grabbed a beer from behind the bar before announcing, “Quiet night.”