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“Where the fuck is he?” I heard another voice and lifted myself out of the hammock in the attic. I threw on some jeans, a black t-shirt, my cut, and walked down the stairs.
“Do any of you know what fucking time it is?” My voice was still rough from the early morning hours. I looked at the clock that said nine and pointed to it. Dagger and Ty looked at me like I was confused, so I broke it down for them. “When we party, we sleep in.”
“Boss, there is someone at the fence looking for Dog,” Dagger explained, as I noticed he was wearing a black onesie pajama covered in white skulls with feeties and a pocket that said, ‘I kill people.’ I was about to ask him about it, when he continued talking. “She’s wearing a badge.”
“Fuck.”
I tried to hide my groan as I ran my hand through my hair, walked over and turned on the coffee pot. As the coffee dripped slowly into the pot, I realized they were waiting on me to give orders. They were waiting to hear what I had to say when I had only had an hour of sleep.
“Get the prospects to take all the stash and hide it in the old vending machines in the bar. Take all the weapons that are unregistered and put them in the broken ice machine out beside the shed. Then put the padlock on it with the out-of-order sign. Make sure Keebler stands by with tools to pretend to fix it, just in case. Get the crew to go open up the shop and close down the bar. Then find the boss and have everyone go to their houses. I’ll go get his lawyer out of my garage and sober her up. We will be there soon. Do not let them in the gate till we get there. Explain that his counsel is coming to address the situation with him.”
“Done boss,” Dagger and Ty gave me the nod and hustled out the door towards the club.
“Dagger,” I called after him when I saw the words exit only written across a button up butt cover on his pajamas. He turned and waited for his orders. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“Pajamas,” he answered as I crossed my arms on the porch waiting for a better explanation. He could have told me he was going hunting. I would have believed that, but I couldn’t buy what his voice was selling when he finally answered me. “They keep me from being raped at your parties. Those girls want my dickly goodies. These jammies keep my cock comfy until some girl is granted permission to ride.”
“Go fucking change,” I demanded with a half laugh as Toni walked out the front door.
“Good morning,” Toni kissed my cheek and smiled at Dagger. “You were passed out when I came in, I was hopeful you could make time for me this morning,” she smirked as she tried to fix her hair.
“No time this morning.” I answered quickly. “You will need to go out the back gate this morning.”
“You have beautiful breasts,” Dagger spoke, and she blushed.
“You have cute pajamas,” she retorted and then walked away, leaving a huge grin on Dagger’s face.
“She likes my pajamas,” Dagger snarkily mumbled as she climbed into her car.
“Seems sweet,” Ty spoke to overlap Dagger’s ramblings.
“Are we keeping her?” Dagger asked, wondering if she would become a new biker whore.
“No one has broken her in yet, because she wants a war. Prospects said she wants us to kill Caleb to save her boyfriend,” I explained. “She’s on a dangerous mission and is going to keep coming around fucking whoever until someone takes the bait and goes after Caleb.”
“I’d kill him, just to kill him,” Ty replied.
“I’ll do it just to watch her bounce topless on a trampoline,” Dagger answered. I shook my head and he walked off mumbling how I was no fun anymore.
I took an ice shower to wake up and then went into the garage and peeled some new prospect off the club lawyer, Doris, and fed her breakfast.
“How long have they been waiting?” Doris questioned as I poured her some coffee in a little to-go cup that Dagger kept in the house for his overnight guests.
“They told me about it a little less than an hour ago. Dagger called about ten minutes ago and said she was calling in backup because they were coming in regardless.”
“Time to earn my drugs,” she coughed as she stood and brushed back her graying brown hair. We left and headed over toward the front gate as sirens sounded around our neighborhood. I rolled my eyes when I saw they had put cars up next to the front fence. It was no wonder they had to call the law. Dagger had good intentions, but a really shitty follow through.
I walked over and tapped Wolf on the shoulder “get these fucking cages out of here. If they have a warrant, they will run them over.”
Then I gave orders to a few of the prospects to open up the garage and start working on the cars. I had the whores leave to go clean up the club. I pointed to a couple of visiting bikers telling them to go to the mortuary we owned and get the mortician awake and open the doors in case the warrant covered all businesses. I had everyone else go to their homes, hide their stash, and wait for orders. The older club members sat on the bench by the entrance laughing, I just rolled my eyes and let them stay.
“Did anyone go get Mad Dog?” I bellowed, and everyone seemed to shrug. “Does no one take initiative anymore?”
Some kid with a new cut ran up and offered to go get him. I knew it wasn’t that no one went to get him, it was that no one wanted to wake him. When Dog woke up, he was violent. Break your jaw, crush your lungs, and snap your arm violent. He blamed it on being in a war, but truth be told I think he just liked knowing we feared coming in his room.
“He’s coming,” the prospect called out a few minutes later with a swollen lip and blood dripping from his ear as he limped toward Ty’s house. Ty’s dad Medic had lived in the same house with Ty for as long as I could remember and was the original band-aid for the club. Anyone who got injured headed to see Medic or Ty.
It’s always the same around here. We drink, we party, we fuck women or men depending on what that person craved, we make money, we kill people, we destroy families, we take what we want, and we’re assholes. Something about this lifestyle appealed to me many years ago, but ranking up to where I am, as the Vice President, and dealing with the ignorance was starting to piss me off.
