Sonny
Iactually didn’t head straight to the clubhouse when I dropped Leigh off.
I went back to my house to catch up on the sleep I didn’t get from all the sex I had with Leigh.
Obviously, I didn’t have any regrets about sacrificing rest for pussy. It was a trade worth taking every single time, and even in less stressful times—or perhaps especially in such moments—I’d do it.
But there was also just the fact that, as Leigh and I had hinted at this morning, times weren’t so easy at the clubhouse. Heads were butting. Egos were clashing.
Hopefully, a little bit of sleep would help that.
When I woke up, I saw some texts pop up on my phone, but I ignored all of them. I wanted to get to the clubhouse first. I wanted to get in that environment where I wouldn’t think about Leigh, or at least I’d limit it. Pussy could rule my dick and my night, but it couldn’t control my days. Not right now, at the very least.
I got on my bike, one of the few spots that I felt in total control at all times, revved the engine, and drove toward the clubhouse. Things could get messy at home; they could get messy at work; but they would never get messy on the bike. This was where I could get a girl to orgasm whenever, it was where I could go whatever speed I wanted, and it was where I could go wherever I wanted.
Alas, I was beginning to think part of its appeal was how short such stays on it were. Even the longest of bike rides didn’t compare to how long I’d have to be at the clubhouse or at my actual house. Gas, after all, wasn’t free.
When I got to the clubhouse, I saw Spawn’s bike there. A few prospects and officers worked in the repair shop. My father wasn’t around, which was fine. I walked past Spawn in the clubhouse, gave him a short nod, and sat down by the bar.
And immediately, my thoughts went to Leigh.
It wasn’t like I sat down intending to think of the very person I swore not to think of while at the clubhouse. She just had that effect on me. No other woman could crowd my mind like that. It was kind of annoying, but there weren’t exactly regrets about thinking about the sex from last night.
But I couldn’t plan effectively if I did that. So I went to the only place more recluse than this—church.
I got inside and stared at my father’s chair, the president’s chair. Someday, that would be mine—but when was someday? The thought of just sitting in it, just resting in it for a bit, just to see what it felt like to be president…
No, I couldn’t do that. That was the fastest way to introduce infighting. Either I’d start to feel a dangerously strong pull to it, or my father would find out, or both, but in any case, it wouldn’t end well.
I headed for my seat. As I started to squat down, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I cursed to myself. We weren’t supposed to bring phones into church, and even though neither Spawn or Satan was around, I considered it a breach of respect for the place to do such a thing. Since I was already in, though, I checked the text. It was from Leigh.
“Sure you saw the shooting at my office. Be careful.”
The fuck?
I stared at the text for what felt like a good minute. No, I didn’t know about the shooting at her office. What the fuck?
Not wanting her to worry, I texted back, “Got it,” hoping to signal to her I understood. But I immediately went to the local news station website to learn more. And sure enough, “Shooting at ViralBlock HQ,” was the main headline right there.
“A man who only identified himself as ‘Crush’ and two men who say they are with the local biker community were arrested Friday morning…”
Ah, fuck.
If they were drawing civilians into this, it was easy to say they were getting desperate. But I was smarter than that. I knew they were actually being really clever.
Turn the city of Phoenix against us. Make us feel political pressure from those with real power. And then we lose our freedom, and then we lose our fucking lives.
This wasn’t the time to butt heads with my father. I walked outside of church as I dialed his number. It rang all the way to voicemail, at which point I hung up. I figured he was just pissing or cooking, so I gave it another couple of minutes before I tried again. Once more, however, there was no answer.
“Fuck it.”
OK, so if my father wasn’t around, I needed someone else who knew how to keep the peace, who knew how to corral everyone. Who?
The answer was obvious as soon as I gave it a modicum of thought. The person who was best at keeping tensions in church calm. Not anyone on this side.
Cole Carter.
