Page 6 of Tats

Snake bangs the gavel to start church as the brothers grin at me. I don't grin back, fuck, I don't even want to be in the room, but I knew this day was coming, even if it was four years too late.

Fuck, the thought of snorting some shit right now sounds a lot better than this, and I've been cold-stone clean from that shit since I started tattooing officially.

"Alright fuckers, we all know why we're here." Snake looks at me and grins. Again, I don't grin back, making him tilt his head as he continues. "Let's get straight to it. Brothers say, ‘aye’, if you want Tats to wear the enforcer patch. I'll start off…."

He looks me in the eyes, his blue ones showing how much he wants this for me. He's been our president for four years. I was supposed to be patched in simultaneously, but my father decided to decline me as their enforcer, causing a lot of tension. He thought I needed to prove more with the brotherhood. Turns out he saw Snatch whispering to me, not realizing she was basically telling me I fucking owed her when I got patched into the council.

The fucker put two and two together and came out with ten, and I've barely spent any time with him since, unless I had to.

I don't fucking want this. I barely spend any time at the club, only coming when needed.

"I'm saying fucking aye. He should have been patched over the same time we were," Snake states as he pointedly looks at my father, who nods in agreement, his eyes showing apologies, but I don't give him a reaction, staying stoic.

One by one, each brother says “aye,” leaving my father until last. He stands, moving away from his seat at the oval table. He nods to the chair he just vacated, stating, "Fucking aye. Take a seat, son. You've proven yourself tenfold."

My jaw ticks at his words as Snake shakes his bald head at the idiot. Fucking proven myself when I've never given any of them a reason not to trust me. It's not my fault the bitch didn't abort me, and he had no choice but to keep me around.

I reluctantly take the seat as the brothers cheer, before Snake bangs the gavel. He grins at me, his eyes showing concern that I don't seem happy. “About fucking time brother, now, why don't you start us off, how's Devil's Tats doing?"

Ah yes, the tattoo shop that the club takes half the earnings from because I need to “prove” myself.

I grunt, then report, "Busy. Profits are increasing. Colleen is taking on more clients, and we've hired a receptionist."

They all nod when Hairy chimes in, making me grind my back teeth as he asks, "What about you?" with a smirk. He's popped in a lot, and I haven't been there, but I don't give a fuck.

I smirk back so he can see he's not getting to me and reply coldly, "I've kept to the quota the club requested through the contract I had to sign. Everything after, I've done on my own time with my own equipment off club premises, and has nothing to do with the brothers."

Snake furrows his brows and asks, "You deliberately only do what you've been told to do?"

I shrug as all the brothers tense, looking at me sceptically, making me chuckle darkly as I sit forward, getting serious. I state, "For years, everyone has acted like I'm untrustworthy simply because of who my birth mother is, even though Emily raised me. Before that I had no choice…."

My father butts in, "Son, that's not?—"

I cut him off, "No, it's exactly how it is, and you don't get to speak up when it was the old ladies of this club reluctantly watching me until Emily came on the scene. You basically acted like I didn't exist when the whore refused to abort me." My father flinches, not realizing I knew. I look around the table as several brothers gaze at me in shock. I ask, "Tell me something 'brothers,' when Sniper here wanted to open a garage, did you force him to sign a contract?" All brothers wince but I continue, "Did you force him to sign over half the fucking profits?" They all look down, making me chuckle. "Thought so. Now, I'm making the amount of money the club demands; everything on the side has nothing to do with you. It's my personal time, in my personal space. If you don't like it, then I can hand over the shop to Colleen and open my own."

All brothers sit up at my threat as Snake's blue eyes harden. "None of us want that, brother. The old timers just wanted you to show them you were good before we lowered the club's profits."

I snort before standing up, making Snake's eyes widen. I huff out, "Yeah, right, because I haven't been tattooing since I was sixteen behind our parent's backs, right? Haven't spent four years out of college building the business up, raking in the dough for the club?" I shake my head, fed up with their bullshit, and state, "I've said my piece, and since the patching over is done, I’m getting the fuck out of here. I promised Grams I'd go see her today. Later, brothers."

I head to the door, ignoring the brothers, who are all trying to get me to sit down. When I open the door, my father calls for me to sit back down, saying that I'm a council brother now, and that I need to show the brothers respect, but I ignore him.

Where was his respect when I was growing up, huh?

I grab my phone from the shocked prospect. The old ladies and brothers waiting for their celebratory party for me “finally” earning the enforcer role, and those who do not attend church all look at me with concern, but I ignore them, too.

As I get to the door, Snatch grabs my hand, and I snarl at her, pushing her away, but she's not scared. Instead, she smiles and states, "Now that you're a council brother, we need to discuss the amount you'll pass to me since it seems you're the reason I'm stuck in this lifestyle."

I just snort at her and snap, "You're in this lifestyle because you're a whore. I'm not a child anymore. Now fuck off before I decide to start making waves and get your ass out of here." I get in her face. "Pretty sure the brothers would choose me over a bitch if I threatened to leave the brotherhood."

Her eyes widen as I snarl at her before leaving, ready to see my Grams, Betty. She's my father's momma and looked after me when I was a baby until she was too old to do so.

Twenty minutes later and several missed calls later, I'm walking into Huntersville Sunny Home. Polly, the receptionist, smiles wide at me. "Tats, sweety. Betty will be happy to see you."

I grin as I kiss the seventy-year-old’s cheek. "Thanks, Pol."

She smiles and presses the button to unlock the door to the main area. "Head on in, sweety, she's in the lounge."

I nod and head inside. I try to come to see my Grams at least three times a week; the woman's everything to me, and the only person I feel like I'm not burdening. Scarlett is now sixteen, and I won't impose on her when she's trying to fit in at school, people knowing she's a club brat.

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