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The door to the clubhouse opens and Hogwild walks in. He’s a large, imposing man who’s bald as the day he was born but has a thick, bushy goatee that’s dark and shot through with gray. He’s got a big silver ring in his nose making him look like, well, a hog. The man is corded with muscle and has tattoos on virtually every inch of skin that can be inked. He’s big enough to tear a person in half without breaking a sweat. He’s Hammerhead’s VP and is, strangely enough, the only one in the entire club who treats me with even a modicum of kindness and respect. Sometimes.
“Let me help you with that,” he says, his voice a low, deep rumble.
“Let her do it herself, bro,” Hammerhead calls. “Builds character.”
“Fuck off,” Hogwild fires back, making Hammerhead chuckle. “Try being a gentleman sometime, asswipe.”
“You first.”
Hogwild shakes his head and grabs the can. He lifts the bag out of it as if it weighs nothing at all and heads out the back door to throw it away. I grab another bag and start loading more trash into it. As long as Hogwild is here and is in a helpful mood, I should try to take advantage of it. The bottles and cans clink and rattle as I throw them in and Hammerhead chuckles.
“Oh sure, now you’re movin’ your ass,” he says.
I roll my eyes, making sure my back is to him so he can’t see. Once I have the tables all cleared and the trash can filled again, I start sweeping the floor. Hogwild comes in and takes the second can out for me.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“No sweat,” he grunts. “Takin’ long enough.”
I pretend to smile at him, not sure whether to be upset he’s being rude or just grateful for the help.
Hogwild grins, turning away from me as if I’m not even here. “Hey, what time is he coming?”
Hammerhead shrugs. “He’ll be here when he gets here. That’s all I know.”
“You know what he wants?”
“Nope. Probably just wants to come down and flex his muscles to make sure we’re staying in line or some shit.”
Hogwild nods. “Yeah, probably. Been a while since the Kings sent somebody down here though. And they’re sending their new VP at that,” he points out.
“Wait, shit. Hawk’s VP now?”
“That’s what I hear,” Hogwild tells him. “Reaper is Prez.”
“Whatever happened to Old Grim?”
Hogwild shrugs. “Fuck if I know. But it kind of seems like something’s up. They wouldn’t send their brass down just for shits and giggles.”
“You’re paranoid, brother. You’re overthinkin’ shit,” Hammerhead waves him off. “He’s just comin’ down here to wave his dick around and show us his is bigger. All we gotta do is smile, tell him how massively hung he is, and send him on his way. It’s cool, man.”
“Yeah, I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am.”
So, the Kings are sending their VP down. Personally, I agree with Hogwild. Granted, I’m not super well versed in club politics but sending a high-ranking member on a run like this kind of seems like a big deal. Or at least bigger than Hammerhead is thinking it is. Hogwild might be right to be worried. But Hammerhead is too high and drunk to see it. Good. All I can hope is that it’s the beginning of the end for him. If he pisses off the Kings, it will be his downfall. And if there’s any way I can help usher that in, I will.
Hogwild leaves, muttering under his breath to himself. Hammerhead stands up and walks over to me. He looms over me, at least seven inches taller and definitely twice as wide. I turn my head away, barely able to deal with his stench, but he grabs me, his fingers and thumb pressing hard into my cheeks, and turns my face back to his. I frown and try to break free, but he’s got a grip like an iron vise. His breath is warm and rancid. I swear to God if he doesn’t let go of me soon, I’m going to puke on him.
“When he gets here, I want you to be invisible. You got it? Serve the drinks, pick up the empties, and clean up the shit,” he growls. “But you’re to be seen and not heard. And under no circumstances are you permitted to talk to him. You say a word to him, and you know what’s waitin’ for you. Am I clear?”
I close my eyes and grit my teeth, doing my best to hold down my vomit. I know what will be waiting for me if I disobey him—the same thing that landed me in the hospital the last time I disobeyed him. And the mere thought of it terrifies me. I’m fighting like hell to keep the tears from spilling down my face, but one gets loose and slides down my cheek.
“You’d best stop cryin’. You know I fuckin’ hate it when you cry,” he snaps. “Now, tell me you understand. Tell me you ain’t gonna open your fuckin’ mouth while the Veep is here.”
I don’t answer for a second. I can’t. I’m trying to pull back my tears as well as my puke, but the taste of bile fills my mouth, and the back of my throat is burning with it. Hammerhead is growing angry and gives my head a sharp shake.
“I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he says, his voice low and tight. “Am I clear?”
