Razor
“FUCK YOU!” I bellowed from my place on the floor.
Pain shooting up my leg, so bad I thought I might puke.
Jesus, I’d never felt anything like it.
I dropped my head to the carpet and took a few deep breaths, before glaring at my walker which was now no less than six feet from me. Exactly where it had fallen sideways because I’d toppled over when my cast had caught a piece of trim that was pulling away from the wall. And I’d toppled over because I was plastered from the tip of my dick to tip of my toes, and I had no sense of balance, therefore Icouldn’t stop myself from falling flat on my ass, which ironically, was the only part of my body that wasn’t bruised or broken.
At least itwas.
Technically, I was so fucked up, I wasn’t even supposed to be trying to use a walker, but I had to piss, so the call of nature overrode my better judgment.
Fuckin’ cunt Gloria and her obsession with Cash had done this and now I might never ride again.
––––––––
Four weeks ago...
I was sitting in the great room with Jamie, Hatch’s youngest kid, shooting the shit when Hatch barreled into the room. “Where’s my wife?”
“In the kitchen I think,” Jamie said. “Everything okay?”
“It’s officially Fuckuary, if any one of you assholes bugs either of us in the next two hours, I’ll cut your dicks off.”
“Jesus, Dad, too much information.”
“Make it three!” he growled, and stalked toward the kitchen.
“What the hell is ‘Fuckuary’?” one of the recruits asked. His name was Johnny and he was on the cusp of getting kicked out. I highly doubted he’d make it to prospect, mostly because he didn’t know when to shut his goddammed mouth.
Jamie dragged his hands down his face with a groan. “Dad declared a few years ago that Februarywas the month he was gonna fuck my mom every day of the week and we better be prepared not to need her because we monopolize her throughout the holidays, and then it’s back to school shit in January for the grandkids, and she’s always being asked to help. Hence, Fuckuary.”
“If my old lady was as hot as his, every month would be Bonetober,” Johnny murmured.
Case in point.
Before I could comment how that was the exact wrong thing to say, Flea, my Sergeant at Arms, had already sent him to the floor with a punch that would have knocked a smaller man unconscious.
“What the fuck, bro?” he snapped, wiping blood from his mouth. “It was just a joke.”
“First of all, you’re not mybro, and the only joke around here is you,” Flea hissed. “I’ve had my doubts about you from the beginning and now I know why. Pack up your shit and get the fuck outta here.”
“I thought this was a fuckin’ motorcycle club,” he sneered getting up. “Not a daycare center.”
“I don’t wanna see you around here again. In fact, I don’t wanna see you on the street,” Flea growled. “When you see our colors, you better run.”
I made my way over to them and stepped in front of Johnny. “Let’s go, asshole. Don’t make it worse than it already is.”
Johnny spit blood at my feet, then stormed out of the club.
Flea turned to Grip. “Grip! Clean up this goddamn floor before Hatch kills all of us.”
“You got it, boss,” he said, and headed for thesupply closet.
I shook my head and made my way to the kitchen. Cash and I were supposed to be having a beer, but he’d gone AWOL, so I went looking for him, finding him standing against the counter, staring at his phone. “Are we havin’ that beer or what?”
“Gloria’s stranded somewhere. Car’s crapped out on her. She’s asked if I can come see what’s wrong with it.”
