AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Hunter
It’s late in the afternoon when I park my dirt bike next to a couple dozen Harleys standing in front of the concrete building I vowed to never set foot in ever again. Music travels through the air, and I smell burning wood; they probably built a bonfire in the yard behind the property. The four prospects standing around and guarding the bikes eye me suspiciously. One, who’s about eighteen, walks up to me, checking out my bike like he wants to take a sledgehammer to it for insulting the customized choppers and Harleys parked around. I recognize an older guy with long black hair who stops him, dismissing him with a stroke of his hand.
“Took you long enough, dipshit,” Animal says, holding out his hand for me to shake.
“Is he here?” I ask, clasping his hand.
He nods. The prospects keep their mouths shut but study me with renewed interest.
Animal motions to the clubhouse. “Yeah, he’s been waiting for you.”
I follow him in. The place is packed with men and women of various ages all wearing their own leather jackets that bind them to an old man, the same as my mother used to wear. Being here sure as shit brings back memories.
There are also girls with barely any clothes on strutting their stuff. Shit. I run a hand through my hair. It’s too familiar, being here, too fucking familiar.
“He’s in his office,” Animal says, checking out the girls putting their hands all over him.
I follow him through a narrow corridor. A couple of guys pass us in the hallway. They do a double take like they recognize me. I guess the color of my eyes gives me away. “How’ve you been, Jake?”
Animal grins when I use his real name. “Can’t complain. Could use some of that sweet ass in my life like you have.”
“What?” I ask, stopping. Animal shakes his head, smiling before knocking on a nondescript door. Fuck. Does he mean Sky came here to talk to my father instead of Jay?
“Prez?” he booms.
“Come in,” a familiar voice says.
“Good luck, kid,” Animal mumbles, holding the door open for me.
When I enter the room, my father is leaning against his desk. He’s older, but he hasn’t really changed. He’s built as if he were still in his twenties. His hair is short, and his stubble has a hint of gray in it. He’s unmistakably my old man, and still a good-looking son of a bitch. Both his arms are filled with ink and when our eyes lock, I don’t know what to say. It’s like staring into a mirror.
“Zombie,” I state, nodding.
“Hunter,” he returns.
Examining his office, I spot cutouts from local newspapers and pictures of me and my sponsorships decorating the walls. Damn, I didn’t expect him to have those hanging around, like he’s proud of what I do.
“You want to take a seat?” my father murmurs, motioning to a chair.
I shake my head. “No, this isn’t going to take long,” I tell him, putting both my hands in my pockets. He does the same while we both stare at the floor. After a couple seconds of awkward silence hanging between us, he sighs.
“You didn’t need to spend your money. I was handling it.”
He stares at the pictures hanging on the walls. Exasperated, he says, “You were handling it? You were handling shit, boy.” He laughs.
“Don’t you boy me. I’ve been on my own long enough to take care of my own fucking mess. I don’t need your help, or your blood money. I haven’t heard from you in years. Let’s keep it that way,” I seethe.
He shakes his head. “And whose fault is that?”
“Fuck you.” I ball my fists.
“Right back at you.”
“Goddam it, Dad.”
“I’m glad you’ve come, son.” His voice is rough.
I clear my throat. “Well, I’m not, so cut the fucking crap. Why did you pay the debt?”
