“Hey!” a guard shouts, “no raising your voice or hitting the glass.”
I quickly hold my hands up and apologize, before turning back to face Frank. His expression is fixed in a cruel smile.
“Do we have a deal… Son?”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to tell him that if he ever threatens Mom or Donovan again it will be the last thing he does. I want to tell him that if he ever even thinks about Elizabeth, I’ll destroy him. But I can’t, we made a deal. And if I don’t back him, I know he has connections; I don’t even want to think about what he could do to them.
“Fine,” I say.
He grins. “Smart choice. I think you’ve lost sight of the big picture here. You’ve forgotten everything I ever taught you. The club is the most important thing in your life…”
He drones on, his usual lecture about the club, brotherhood, the open road… I’ve heard it so many times I know it by heart. But all I want to do is get the fuck out of this place and get as far away from him as I can.
After leaving the prison, I couldn’t face the thought of going back to the clubhouse. Learning that Frank’s manufactured this whole deal with Diablos Rojos, that he’s trying to take the club down a path we’ve moved away from, and that I have no choice but to help him… it’s fucking with my head. I got on my bike and rode, and I’ve found myself at the last place I’d have ever expected.
Miguel answers the door but he doesn’t say a word, just opening it wider to let me in.
“Mamá,” I say, walking into the living room.
Her face lights up as she sees me, and I don’t deserve it, but I let her hug me… and I don’t let go for ages. She eventually releases me and takes me to the kitchen.
“Necesitas comer, mijo!” she says.
She’s obsessed with feeding me; it’s after 9 p.m. and way too late to eat anything, but I know she won’t take no for an answer, so I don’t argue.
“Do you want a drink?” Miguel asks.
“Please,” I say. Usually I’d leave it at that, but after my time with Frank, I know I need to be nicer to Miguel, I’m happy my mom has him. “I’d appreciate it, thank you.”
I take a seat at the breakfast bar while Mom lays out plates of food: leftovers from dinner, snacks, there’s everything. She’s even muttering to herself about cooking something special for me too.
I tuck into the leftovers in front of me, “This is perfect, Mamá, gracias.”
Miguel returns with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses; I’ve got to admit, he has great taste when it comes to drinks, this isn’t the cheap stuff I usually have.
“I’m going to go and make up the guest bedroom,” Mom says, hurrying out of the kitchen.
“She’s happy you’re here,” Miguel says, pouring out two glasses.
“Yeah, I know I left pretty quick last time,” I say, “thanks for letting me stay here, I didn’t want to go back to the clubhouse, and I was closer to here anyway.”
“You’re always welcome. Is everything okay?”
“I had to go and see Frank.”
“Ah, I can imagine that’s not easy for you. Do you want to talk about it?”
I look over at him, this is probably the most we’ve ever said to each other. Judging by the look on his face, I’m guessing Mom has told him all about Frank. Other than El Jefe, I’ve never had a decent father figure to go to for advice, or even just to talk to, and suddenly I want that. I blame Elizabeth, before her I bottled up all my shit, she taught me to talk about stuff.
“Is that okay?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says, doubling the shot in my glass. “I’m guessing we’ll be needing this.”
“Yeah, probably.”
He nods. “So what happened with Frank?”
“He’s trying to get the club involved in illegal work again, he’s backed us into a bit of a corner with another club. It’s made things… complicated.”
