Tank leaned forward. “Not anymore, but you gonna break down the shit you’ve done for him and with this club?”
Dozer gave a single shake of his head.
“My old lady did twenty-five years with me. I go away for eighteen months, and she decides she’s done.” Tank shrugged. “Your mom hated being a military wife,” he said to Dozer. “She hated the corps. Hated being on her own for six months to a year at a time. She hated the Hellers,” he said to me. “She said she wasted twenty-five years on me. She isn’t wrong. I got my kid.” He smiled at Dozer. “But she should’ve walked a long time ago. I’m not going to change.”
I tried to find the lesson in his story.
“Your girl is like my ex-wife,” he said to me. “Faye was never cut out to be an old lady.” Tank stood, went behind the bar, and poured a beer. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t love her. I loved her hard. Still do. But I’m notcontent being what she needs.” He stuffed a couple bucks in the till.
“McKelle doesn’t hate the Hellers.” Up until I fucked up, she was excited for me to get my patch. She wanted it for me. Friday nights were ours. She loved playing pool with the guys. Kiss was her best friend. Blue was my brother. They’d been to hell for each other. Nothing was taking them out of the MC.
That wasn’t true. If heroin came back into the MC, Blue would leave. He’d leave for her. No question. He’d put her first.
Fuck.
McKelle wasn’t wired like Hana or Jazzy. She wasn’t sweet and quiet like Pippa, and she wasn’t part of the club’s tapestry like Levi. But she belonged here. She belonged with me.
Tank returned to the table. “You’re a Heller. Trouble seems to find us. The MC is always going to come first.”
Dozer shook his head. “Nah. Pip comes first. Every fucking time. You think Blade would fuck around on Hana. Think anyone is getting close to his dick? Never happen. Not only would Torch kick his ass, but Hana would bury her knife in him.”
“This isn’t about pussy,” Tank said. “This is about the MC. You think Rogue is putting Jazzy before his responsibilities to the club?”
Dozer laughed. “He put her on the board so he wouldn’t have to.”
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes while they debated MC relationships. They’d lost the point of the conversation, but who was I to interfere with father/son discussions.
But while I was in my thoughts of McKelle…and her new friend Ryatt, the conversation between Tank and Dozer shifted.
“Blade knows I’ll only need his room for a few weeks,” Tank said.
Tuning back into their conversation, I listened to Tank talk about his job lead.
“Hudson couldn’t give me details.”
“It’s risky. Torch said you don’t want in on this, not with your parole. Too much in the gray.”
“Torch has gotten soft with his old lady. Dozer, I got no reason not to take the job. I’ll meet the boss first. With the way Hudson spoke, his employer isn’t going to care about my criminal background. Good money. Steady work. I can be out of here in a few weeks.”
“Blade hasn’t spent a night in the MC in months, so don’t worry about the room,” Dozer said. Blade and Hana lived with him and Pippa. “But you working for the Brunos is a fast track back to the country club.”
“Nah. I trust Hudson,” Tank said. “This guy needs muscle that understands the importance of keeping their eyes open but their mouths shut. Kodiak is interested.”
If I wanted to get my girl back, I needed a real fucking job. Not scraps from Steele, and tips on Friday nights from my Heller brothers. I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the table. “What kind of work?”
Dozer crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. “It’s family business, as in working for the mafia. McKelle wouldn’t have to worry about your dick, but she’ll have to wonder if your ass is coming home every night.”
Tank laughed. “The mafia wouldn’t let outsiders into their inner circle. We’ll be protecting Luca Bruno and his billionaire bride.”
Ryatt
When McKelle had invited me to follow her home. I hadn’t expected to sit down to a family dinner in a two-story log cabin style mansion and replay the highlights of our session.
There was more food on the table than at a Thanksgiving feast. It was a little strange watching her dad eat. I don’t know why it settled my nerves. Maybe because I had my own quirks. I had some food issues, not like Georgia at NA meetings and her hoarding of cookies, but I’d been hungry.
I still liked ketchup on saltines. I was maybe ten or eleven when I started stealing them from the school lunchroom because most days, that was the only food I’d eat outside of school lunch. Actually, McKelle’s dad’s plate looked like my lunchroom plastic tray. Everything had its own compartment.
“Let me talk to Jay over at the speedway,” her dad said. “I might be able to get some private track time. We can work on your cornering.”
