AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Zach wasn’t sure what it was like out in normie-land, but in the Bulls, saying you vouched for somebody was more than mere words. It meant you bound your fate to theirs. If they fucked up, you shared the weight of the consequences, all the way up to sharing the same six-foot hole.
Gargoyle took a beat before he answered. He pulled his long grey beard through his fist, cast his eyes at the horizon, and contemplated. Zach assumed everybody else knew his hesitation wasn’t doubt. He was just thinking his deep thoughts, shining a light into all his dark corners, not making any sudden move. Typical Gargo.
“Yes,” he finally said. “I vouch.”
“Good enough,” Eight said. He nodded at Gargo’s phone. “See if he wouldn’t mind some company.”
While Gargoyle texted his old friend, Eight mounted up, and everybody else did, too.
––––––––
~oOo~
––––––––
Half an hour later, just as the last of the sunset was slipping away, they pulled up to a typical Nevada subdivision house on a typical Nevada subdivision street on the very edge of the developed area of the Laughlin. Literally on the other side of the concrete street was desert brush all the way to the horizon, with a bit of diamond sparkle from the snaking Colorado River to the east, and Arizona just beyond.
Like every other house facing that stark, gorgeous landscape, Ben Haddon’s house was a multi-level stucco with a two-car garage dominating the front. In the place of grass, these houses, like most of the houses Zach had seen around these parts, had pea gravel for front yards. The Haddons also had a few desert plants thrown in for visual interest.
The garage door was rolled open, and a white cargo van was parked on the driveway, its back doors open, showing the various tools of Ben’s trade.Haddon Restorative Cleaning, the simple black logo on the side of the van read. Nothing but that and a phone number. Zach thought the logo might be one of those magnetic signs.
Ben was a crime-scene cleaner. He worked both sides, getting gigs from LEOs and outlaws alike. The Bulls had used his services at least once that Zach knew of.
He’d met Ben quite a few times, but never here at his house. The basic subdivision thing didn’t suit that crabby, dangerous-looking dude in the slightest.
Then again, you’d probably be surprised that Rad Jessup, another crabby, dangerous-looking dude, lived in a house with a family of garden gnomes arranged in a bed of red and yellow tulips at the front porch. They were biker gnomes, and Mom displayed them ironically (or at least said she did), but you’d still be surprised.
Ben and two other people—another big guy, much younger than Ben, and a young woman—were unloading the truck. All three were dressed in dark-blue coveralls. The young guy and the woman wore matching black baseball caps, the cheap kind with mesh backing and adjustable plastic strips. The woman wore it backward. A patch with the logo for the family business—just name and phone number, like on the van—perched above the brim.
Zach tried to get a read on the girl’s looks, but in that bulky coverall, and with her dark hair under the cap and bundled up in one of those bun things chicks did to get their hair out of the way, he couldn’t tell anything but average height and dark hair. She wore a pair of big aviator sunglasses, too, despite the twilight. She could have been skinny or fat, have great tits or almost none, be pretty or funky looking.
As it was likely she was related to Ben—his daughter, probably—Zach was better off not knowing.
Ben had looked up the street as the Bulls approached, but he hadn’t stopped working. As they parked their bikes, though, he said something to the other guy and came over to Eight.
That said something about him, that he went to greet the Bulls president before his years-long friend. He understood the power dynamics of an MC and still respected them.
“Eight Ball!” Ben said and held out a hand. “Good to see you, brother.”
Eight clasped his arm. “Good to see you. Thanks for giving us a place to sit down tonight.”
“Mi casa, su casa,” Ben said with a brisk nod. Then he went to Gargo, and the two men embraced hard. “Jason.”
Hearing Gargoyle’s birth name always struck a harsh note in Zach’s head. He’d been Gargoyle as long as Zach had known him, but that name was only as old as Gargo’s Bulls patch. Ben had known him far longer than that. Still, ‘Jason’ was too normal a name for that weird-looking weirdo. Gargoyle suited him much better.
“Ben,” Gargoyle answered his buddy. “You good?”
“I’m solid, yeah. You?”
“Same.” Gargo slapped his arm and stepped back.
Ben turned to the other Bulls. “Welcome. There’s beer and booze, a freezer full of meat, and my little girl’s a great cook. You can make yourselves to home, have the time you need, and we’ll cook out and enjoy the night.”
As they all headed toward the house, Eight pulled up alongside Ben and said, “I want to talk with you one-to-one first off.”
Ben shot him a look, but didn’t say anything that matched his surprise. “Sure thing,” he said and opened the door.
––––––––
