Clutch remindedme of a combat veteran as he spoke. There was a mixture of pride and PTSD inhis tone and I wondered if I was in fact ready to patch in with the Dogs ofFire, or any club for that matter.
“Our clubs arenot that different from one another,” Clutch continued. “We’re both doing ourbest to convince the locals that we’re safe as milk, but we both know thatunderneath our two percent patches you’ll find the stitches from a torn off onepercent patch.”
“If you’rewarning me that club life can get rough, remember I’ve spent my entire lifeplaying hockey.”
“They use gunson the ice where you come from?” Clutch’s voice turned deadly serious. “Howabout hunting knives? I don’t follow hockey. Is the other team allowed to cutthe goalie’s throat?”
“I get it,” Isaid.
“You don’t getshit. Biker culture may have gone mainstream, but the life is still the life.In fact, while the public’s been busy streaming pretty boy biker soap operas,some clubs have doubled down. This is no time for fucking tourists, so ifyou’re lookin’ for some weekend warriors to ride with, I can hook you up, butthe Dogs are my friends, and they don’t need extra attention on their club bysome washed up jock.”
I nodded. “Thisis the part where you test my mettle.”
“This is thepart where I tell you I don’t have to test jack shit. If my president wantsyour ball sack on a pike all he has to do is give the word. And if I want yoursack, I’ll take it, stuff it, mount it on my wall, and ask Minus’s forgivenesslater.”
“I’m pretty sureMinus doesn’t have that say. Hatch does.”
“Yeah, well,Minus is his brother-in-law.”
I rose to myfeet. “I respect you and the relationship you have with the Dogs, but I’mstarting to feel a little disrespected here.”
Clutch stood,his face inches from mine. “If you want me to take any of my words back, you’regonna have to make me.”
“Lead the wayoutside and I’ll make sure you can’t say anything for six months,” I replied.
We turned forthe door only to find our women standing together, behind us, arms crossed, andthey did not look amused.
“What the hellare you two doing?” Eldie asked.
“We werejust…ah…,” Clutch stammered.
“Going out tothe parking lot to fight,” Eldie finished her husband’s sentence.
“I thought yousaid you weren’t in the habit of getting into fistfights,” Daisy said to me.
“But he was theone who—”
“Save it,” shesnapped.
“I’ve paid thebill. Stay right here and wait for me,” Eldie said to Clutch, before both womenturned and made their exit.
I dragged myhands down my face. “Nice going, dickwad,” I snapped.
“We’reassholes,” he replied.
“Yup.”
“Anyway,” Clutchsaid, as if nothing had happened. “Remember. Prospecting goes both ways. It’s atime for the club to see what you’re made of, but it’s also time for you tofigure out who you are, and why you need the club.”
I nodded. “Ishould probably figure out how I’m gonna make this up to Daisy.”
“She’s beenaround bikers her whole life. She’ll be alright. Give her some time to cool offand tell her you’re sorry. If that doesn’t work, let her give you a free stickto the nuts.”
I gave him achin lift. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Hey, you’realright, jockstrap. Sorry for giving you shit. I get kinda worked up sometimes,ya know?”
“We’re cool,” Isaid, walking away.
