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“There’s another one of those ‘you problems’ we’re talkin’ about, man. When you took our money, you made certain promises. You told me you’d be able to make this happen,” I interrupt. “Now, if you’re tellin’ me you can’t do what we paid you to do, that’s goin’ to make a lot of people unhappy. Me, for starters. But I’m the least of your worries, bro. It’s Reaper you got to be worried about, and right now, he’s a very unhappy man. You remember Reaper, don’t you?”
At the mention of the name, Willard’s eyes go wide with fear. For the last few months, Reaper has been the Prez of the club in all but name, and his first act was to appoint me as VP. Reaper’s father Old Grim still makes the final decisions, but he’s getting on in years. Probably won’t be long before he fully retires.
“I can. I will,” he says quickly. “I can do it. It’s just going to take a minute.”
“Seems like it’s takin’ a lot more than a minute.”
“I get it. I get that you’re upset and—”
“You’re damn right I’m upset. You promised me you’d be able to bring in our shipments like clockwork. I vouched for you withReaper, man,” I press. “And now here we are, no shipment, and nothin’ but me standin’ here with my dick in my hand. So you’re damn right I’m upset, Willard.”
“Hawk, I—”
I step forward and jam the handle of my bat into his gut. The air explodes from his lungs and Willard doubles over with a loud, raspy croak. He wraps his arms around his middle and lets out a choked sob.
“Stand up,” I snap. “At least try to act like a fuckin’ man for a change.”
Willard straightens up but his expression is pained. His face has taken on a bright shade of red and a loud wheezing whistle is coming from his mouth.
“You know the value of a promise, Willard?” I ask as I push my long brown hair out of my face. “You know the value of keeping your word?”
He nods. “I do.”
“Do you? I wonder about that,” I comment.
“I do, Hawk. I get it.”
“Remember when you had a stiffy for that stripper? What was her name?” I ask. “Oh, right. Raquel. Remember when you begged me to get Raquel to bang you?”
Willard looks down, shame and embarrassment coloring his features. Raquel is one of the cut-sluts always hanging around the clubhouse. They’re always drinking and hooking up with the guys under some delusion one of us will finally settle down and make her our ol’ lady. Which is a fat fucking chance. Girls like those will fuck anybody with a patch. Or anybody those of us with a patch tells them to fuck. Which comes in handy in situations just like this.
Maybe it’s the veneer of danger inherent in all MCs that gets their juices flowing. Maybe it’s that rough, outlaw life we lead. I can’t say for sure, but for whatever reason—and I don’t really care to learn what that reason is—they want to be part of the life, even if only hanging on the fringes of it.
“Do you remember that, Willard? Do you remember Raquel?”
He nods but remains silent and lowers his gaze.
“I promised you that you would have the night of your life with her, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” he says quietly.
“And what happened?”
“I had the night of my life with her,” he whispers.
“And I promised you that I wouldn’t tell your wife, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“And have I?” I ask. “Have I told your wife that you wanted a little strange on the side and banged some stripper?”
“No. You haven’t.”
“And do you know why I haven’t?”
Willard shakes his head miserably. “Because you promised me you wouldn’t.”
“That’s right. Give the man a cigar,” I say mockingly. “Because I don’t want to live in a world where a man’s word ain’t good for nothin’. I don’t want to live in a world where promises ain’t worth the breath used to speak ‘em. Know what I mean?”
