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“Hell, maybe he don’t want it?” Kicker said before he spat tobacco into an empty beer bottle. Several of the other patch holders laughed.
“Is that it? You don’t want it?” Venom asked. His brow arched, and I put that fucking cut on faster than I’d seen Ghost disappear.
Everyone started laughing and cheering as they stood and clapped their hands. A grin split my face so big I thought it might damage my cheeks.
Holy shit. I got patched.
Venom stood up and approached me. He gripped the front of the cut and straightened it, though it didn’t need it. Then he lightly punched my nametape. “Looks good on you,” he said before he pulled me into an embrace.
I damn near fucking cried.
Each brother came up to congratulate me. I couldn’t quit smiling. The only one missing was Chains because he was down helping the Flagstaff chapter. Finally, Raptor stopped in front of me. He also gave me a light punch over my nametape. “What do you think of your road name?”
Truthfully, I hadn’t looked at it. I dropped my chin to read it upside down. I laughed my ass off. It was probably the most ironic name that they could’ve given me, but they had no idea. I knew they’d done it because they believed I was from Buffalo, New York—home of the NHL team. They had no idea it was the weapon I carried with me when I was cast to humanity.
It read “SABRE.”
“Hope you’re ready for a road trip because you, Raptor, Voodoo, and Phoenix will be riding down to bring Chains home,” Venom proclaimed.
I’d have ridden with them to the gates of Hell itself. Anywhere they wanted me to go, I’d be there.
“Hell yeah,” I replied with my smile still stretching from ear to ear.
Approximately three months later
“Yeah, it was a good ride,” I told Pony Boy, my friend and brother from the Omaha chapter, as I tucked my phone between my ear and my shoulder to dig inside a pocket of my cut. It was code for everything went well with the drop-off.
He and I had bonded when I first started prospecting. He had been coming to the end of his year but didn’t treat me like I was a wet-behind-the-ears kid. Besides that, he was there for me when I had questions I didn’t want to ask the Ankeny brothers. Not that they weren’t cool guys, but no man wants to step on his own dick if he can help it.
“Awesome. Good to hear, bro.” I heard him cover the phone, and his voice was muted before there was a rustle and he was back. “Sapphire wanted me to tell you hello and ask when you were coming back. She misses that upstate dick,” he joked, and I laughed. It wasn’t worth correcting anyone. Everyone assumed I was from upstate New York because that was where I had my most current documents from. I found it ironic, since I had joined the Civil War with a New York regiment. Crazy fucking shit, looking back on it.
We’d just returned from a making a delivery to the Memphis chapter. We went to Omaha for their annual chapter party and picked up a shipment of gun parts that we drove down to Columbia, Missouri, where they met up with us.
As president, Reign was there along with their vice president, Suede. They came with their enforcer, Country, and several other brothers. We had lunch where we shot the shit and laughed for a bit, then they took possession of the rental truck. After saying our goodbyes, we hopped on Highway 63 and headed home.
“VP was talking about taking a ride over to see you guys in a few weeks. I guess our Ps are planning it. You still gonna be around?” he asked as I heard him light up and inhale.
“If you’re coming, then fuck yeah. I’ll make sure I’m here.” I figured I could head down to Dallas on my own afterward instead of following Phoenix and Raptor.
“Cool, cool. Well, I gotta run. Church starts in about twenty.”
“No problem. Love you, bro,” I told him and meant every word.
“Love you too, bro. Later.”
“Later,” I replied and ended the call.
Gazing around at the rural property I called home, I reveled in the peace and quiet. Too much shit had been going on. The sounds of birds chirping and a tractor running in the distance were almost enough to put a man to sleep. But I was looking forward to a new adventure in Texas.
Though the party in Omaha had been a blast, it had been a long-ass trip with the delivery added in. Despite the cool weather, I was sweaty and covered in road grime. After I had a quick smoke, my first stop would be in my bathroom to grab a shower. Then I might see if Cookie was doing anything. She had been a dancer at our strip club and had recently taken over as the manager. Thought she wasn’t a club girl, nor was she a prostitute, she proudly loved sex and most of us were down for a good no-strings fuck.
Setting my shit on the wood top, I dropped my tired ass down at the picnic table and rolled a quick blunt. Finding the lighter was dead, I grumbled and tossed it in the outdoor can against the building.
While I held my smoke between my lips, I dug in my other pocket for a lighter that worked. Finally, I held the flame to the end and inhaled deeply. Too big of a hit had me coughing, but I still took another.
After smoking about half of it, I saw a black SUV coming up the road. As I took another drag, it turned into our driveway. The prospect manning the gate exited the small shack they used to stay out of the weather. I watched as he used his cell phone, then he was waving the SUV through. The closer it got, the surer I was that it was a cop.
Stubbing out the spliff I’d been smoking, I set it on the bench seat next to my thigh and waited to see what they wanted. Officer Santiago got out, but her partner waited in the Tahoe. Patiently, I watched her approach. She stopped in front of me and gave the black smudge on the worn tabletop a glance.
