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Chains wiped the sweat from his brow as he and Baptiste finally managed to free the alligator transporter air boat from the mud. It had been a long day, and the rescue had been no easy feat. As they finished up, Gator thanked his Jokers brothers for their help.
With the boat now unstuck, Chains and Baptiste headed back to the Jokers MC clubhouse. Chains was driving his old flatbed truck, his mind miles away when Baptiste asked, “What’s under the tarp?”
Tied down on the truck bed was a tarpaulin-covered item that Chains hadn’t mentioned to either of the guys. “Nothing,” he said.
“Looks like something to me,” Baptiste said. “What’s the secret?”
“No secret. Just something I got from the last place I cleared out.”
“So?”
“What?”
“What the fuck is it?” Baptiste said. Chains laughed. “When we get to the club I’m tearing the tarp off if you don’t tell me.”
“All will be revealed, my friend,” Chains said. He looked across at Baptiste, who had his eyebrows raised, and he repeated, “Tout sera révélé.”
Baptiste laughed. “Tu sonnes toujours étrange.”
“Fucked if I know what that means,” Chains said. He only knew a little of the dialect that many of his Jokers brothers used. Mostly the words he needed to know when they were in danger.
“You still sound strange,” Baptiste said, the added, “Parle Anglais.”
“Fuck me. I talk your lingo and you want me to speak English?”
“You’re easier to understand that way.” Chains hit Baptiste’s arm and his friend said:
“You’re getting soft. Hardly felt it.” They were quiet for a while, but Baptiste couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Come on, man…what the fuck is it?”
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait, but I think you’ll like what it is.”
“I hate fucking surprises,” Baptiste said.
“You and me both,” Chains said as he looked across the cab at Baptiste, who had a smirk on his face. “What’s that for?” Chains asked.
“What’s what for?”
“That fucking look on your face,” Chains said.
“Tout sera révélé,” Baptiste replied.
Chains shook his head, and once again, his thoughts were lost to the road.
* * *
Chains had never knownthe exact date of his birthday. Throughout his childhood, he had been shuffled from one foster home to another, and somewhere along the way, the information had been lost. It wasn’t until he joined the Jokers MC, after a short stint as a nomad for the Southside Skulls in Boston, that he found a place that truly felt like home.
One night, while the club was throwing a wild and raucous all-night party to celebrate the Jokers’ president’s birthday, Blackheart asked Chains when his birthday was as they both downed another beer. Chains had replied, “Once a year.” Blackheart had initially thought he was being a smartass, but his expression changed when Chains explained that he genuinely didn’t know. “When you find out, let me know, and we’ll celebrate,” Blackheart had promised.
A few weeks later, Maddox had jokingly asked Chains if he had discovered his birthday yet, claiming they needed an excuse for a party. Chains had randomly decided that that day would be his birthday, and so it had remained ever since.
Today was that day, but Chains had forgotten the date.
Unbeknownst to Chains, the Jokers MC had been planning a surprise birthday party for him. They had been working tirelessly, organizing food, drinks, and decorations. They’d invited some of Chains’ closest friends. He didn’t have any blood relatives; the Jokers were his family. The anticipation was building, everyone eagerly awaiting the look on Chains’ face when he walked in.
As Chains approached the clubhouse, the Jokers were still scrambling to put the finishing touches on the party. They dimmed the lights and hid, ready to surprise him.
