“He’s right, you know.”
All eyes shifted to the raspy voice of Red Raven.
“The boy has much to learn about leadership, but one thing he is good at is seeing people for who they are. He would do terribly in your spot. He is much better at organizing a charge into battle than actually partaking in the charge.”
Well, great. That started out well, went down, went back up to much better, and ended in the worst possible place.
I’m not ready to die.
That right there was the fear that undermined everything, what had led to me being so avoidant of much of the club. Witnessing my father die and Shannon die had scarred me and left me in a position of impossibility.
On the one hand, I loved my father and wanted to honor him. He made me President for a reason—well, co-President technically, but I was glad my “brother” was out the window. I wanted to carry on his legacy and grow the Black Reapers.
On the other, though? I wasn’t even thirty yet. I was so young. I had a life to live, women to... eventually meet, places to see. I didn’t want to fall into a gunfight. I didn’t want to die.
Maybe that was cowardly to say, and maybe a certain level of arrogance helped to mask it, but it was the truth. I saw how Shannon’s death affected those who loved her, and I did not want to disappoint those around me by doing the same.
But such thoughts were rarely something I wanted to admit, and the fact it had come to mind now was more a function of the thought blasting out of my subconscious than a careful examination of my fears.
“Let’s just agree that for right now, the three of you will go talk to some of the leaders in the area,” I said. “I will do what I need to do to see how I can get more involved. Okay?”
Axle grumbled something so low I couldn’t hear him, even with him no more than three feet to my left.
“Okay,” he finally got out.
“Yes,” Butch said.
“Of course,” Father Marcellus said.
“Thank you all,” I said. “I... I think, after that, we should all take a break. Unless anyone else has anything else to say?”
No one did.
Patriot wanted to, but not here in church.
“Okay,” I said, slamming the gavel.
Everyone stood up and shuffled out without a word, except for Patriot. No one looked at me as they left. I had walked in feeling mighty high about where things stood, and I had ended the meeting feeling down and needing change... and now that everyone had left, I wasn’t sure if this was just a generational thing or if they had legitimate gripes.
At least, I wanted to believe I wasn’t sure.
“I promised Axle that I would work in the shop until five,” Patriot said. “So, when I go on break, we can talk then.”
“Deal,” I said. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“What is there to think about, man?” he responded.
Oh, there was plenty. How much was my arrogance a mask for the ongoing depression I felt? How could I learn to lower that self-defense mechanism without costing myself my relationships and status with the rest of the club? How could I overcome my fear of dying?
And... if I was being really honest... how did I move past Shannon?
“I guess we’ll find out at five,” I said with a weak smile.
“Believe it or not, you’ll probably score some brownie points for at least sounding remorseful,” Patriot said. “Compared to how you were right after your father’s death and in the months after, that’s a wild leap ahead. But Lane? The club’s pissed at you. You have a lot of making up to do. Simple tone isn’t going to be enough.”
With that, he left, shutting the door behind him.
I was left alone in church.
