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“It ain't that easy, brother.”
“I never said it would be, but then, that ain’t my problem. I ain’t the one who’s put my dick over the club,” Pa bites back harshly.
“I guess that’s all there is to say,” Chop puts an end to their conversation, and after some rustling and background noise, the audio eventually switches itself off.
I play it from the start and listen to it again, then click around on different buttons until I find a date. And when I do, my blood freezes, and my muscles tense. This audio was recorded days before my father was killed. I grip the bar and hang my head between my arms when a memory I try to keep buried forces itself to the surface.
I could barely see through the slats in the wardrobe, but I heard the bullet leave the chamber that put an end to his life. The man who stood over him wore a mask, he was big and scary. And all this time, I’ve been growing up at this club with him. I lived with him for years, looked up to him, and was proud to call him a brother when I finally got my Pa’s cut. Chop even helped me build my first bike.
I replay the video again, knocking back more scotch, then repeat it again and again until I can recite the fucking words.
“Jess, I’ve been looking for you.” I spin around when the door opens, and when I see my Prez standing in front of me, hurt and fury feed my veins with fire. Jimmer Carson’s been like a father to me, we shared the same grief when he lost his best friend, and I lost my Pa, and then we did it all over again when we lost Hayley.
Me and him have been holding each other up ever since the day he found me in that wardrobe.
All I see staring back at me now is deception.
“Jess?” he frowns, clearly picking up on the tension I’m gripping on to, and concern has him taking a step toward me. I hold my hand out as a warning for him not to come any closer.
“What the fuck is this?” Pulling the USB from Maddy’s laptop, I grip it in my fist.
“Shit,” the word comes from under his breath, and when he turns his head and looks away from me, all hope of this being a misunderstanding up and fucks off.
“You better get talking, old man.” I swallow the fuckin’ lump in my throat and wipe under my nose with the hand holding my glass.
“Now you remember who you're talking to, boy…” Prez reminds me, pointing a finger at me, but I’m past giving a shit.
“When were you gonna tell me?” I feel the sting of betrayal behind my eyes as I stare at the old man straight. I can’t take it that he’s lied to me, not him, not through everything we’ve suffered together.
“I don’t know,” he admits. Any authority on his face suddenly gets replaced by sadness.
“It was him, wasn’t it? Chop killed my Pa.” The words rattle out of my throat, and I don’t know what hurts more. The thought of my father being killed by one of his own, or the fact the man I’ve looked up to my whole life has lied to protect him.
Jimmer nods his head slowly, inching closer to try and comfort me, but I take a step back out of his reach. I don’t know what I’ll do if he puts his hands on me. I don’t trust myself.
“How long have you known?” I keep us on track of what’s important.
“Maddy brought it to me when she realized it was Chop in the recording. She had no idea who he was talking to until I told her.” His answer ain’t what I was expecting, and it strikes me like a kick to the crotch. I stare at him with wide eyes. My mouth trying to form words as I take in what he’s just fucking told me.
“Maddy? Maddy knew about this?” I search his face for an explanation, while the betrayal sinks deeper into my flesh and poisons my bloodstream.
“I thought that’s how you found out.” He closes his eyes and rubs his hand across his forehead. Now he’s really disappointed in himself.
“So you’ve both been fuckin’ lying to me.” The words sting my tongue as I swallow back fucking tears and try to come up with a reason why the two people I love most in this world would do that to me.
“Jess, I didn’t have a choice. This club was falling apart. We’d just lost Hayley. Skid had lost Carly. Chop…” He moves toward the bar and picks up the half-empty bottle, taking a long swallow. “Skid was losing his fucking head. You were close to losing yours over Hayley. I was too fucking weak to have two of my best men gunning after the same man,” he tries explaining, but nothing he’s saying is pulling the knife out of my back.
“He killed my Pa, your best friend,” I point out, trying to make sense of all this.
“And I wasn't gonna let that bastard take anything else from this club, Jessie. The man's a dead man walking without having everyone turning on each other to make the fucking strike.”
“You didn’t think I deserved to fucking know what happened to my old man?” I slam my glass onto the bar so hard it shatters, but Prez doesn't flinch. That sorry, pitiful look remains set on his face as he stares at the broken glass.
“All these years, I’ve wanted to know who took him from me. I’ve taken all the hate inside me and used it to serve this club and to serve you…” I stare at him, letting him see every ounce of pain his deception is causing me.
“And if I’d have known back then, I’d have told you, and we’d have taken that mother fucker down together,” Prez raises that authoritative voice again. There's a limit to what this man will take. “But the timing was bad, and I made a call as President of this club. A decision that was best for everyone.” I’ve had enough of this bullshit, and I step up into his face on my way to the door.
“Just not one that was best for me, huh?” I speak into his cheek before I move on.
