Cameron
“THAT’S TEN TO nine. My service.” I grinned, standing at the ping-pong table across from my opponent.
“No way. The ball was out of bounds.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Grizz?”
He waved his paddle wide. “I’m talking about the serve you just returned was out of bounds making the score ten to ten.”
“Let me ask you something.” I cocked my head. “How is it that you’re legally allowed to ride a motorcycle when you’re clearly at least half-blind?”
“I’m blind?” Grizz countered. “Stevie fuckin’ Wonder would have called that shot ‘out.’”
My oldest brother, Connor, better known as ‘Hatch,’ was the Sergeant at Arms for the Dogs ofFire Motorcycle club. Tonight was ‘family night,’ a time-honored tradition held every month or so for club members and their families to hang out, pig out, and drink up. Although none of our other siblings were club members, the Dogs had always treated us like one of them. We were always welcome to ride, party, or hustle them at ping pong any time, and I was always thankful when my schedule allowed me time to do so.
With the club growing, the ping pong and foosball tables had been moved outside during the warmer months, in order to make more space inside the clubhouse but I had a feeling this was going to be a very temporary fix and they would eventually need to expand the building or move to something larger.
Grizz had been around since almost the beginning, and he was always the first to challenge me to a game whenever I was around. He legitimately thought he could win at least once, and he never did. It was kinda sad.
I shook my head. “I never thought I’d see the day when you were so afraid of losing to me that you’d resort to cheating. I thought you respected the game and yourself more than that.”
“I don’t sweat you,” Grizz said, squaring up to the table. “Go ahead. Take your stolen point and serve the ball. I’ll beat your ass anyway.”
I adjusted my grip on the paddle, took a breath, and served the ball. Grizz returned the shot, the ball hitting the edge of the table, causing my return to come up higher than I’d have liked. The ball wasnow at the perfect angle for Grizz to deliver a hard spike, earning him the point and tying up the score.
“This is it, Bob the Builder,” Grizz said. “This one’s for all the marbles. Don’t let the pressure get to you.”
“The only thing weaker than your shit talk is your backspin,” I replied.
“Enough fucking chit chat,” Grizz bellowed. “It’s time for you to go down.”
My eyes narrowed on my opponent, as I rasped, “Service.”
The volley which followed my serve was nothing short of epic. Two athletes, at the peak of their ‘careers,’ battling to the death like the gladiators of ancient Rome. Each of us upping the intensity with every returned ball, until I delivered the final death blow, leaving only one man standing in the arena.
“You piece of shit, brick layer,” Grizz shouted as I raised my hands in victory, thrusting them higher into the air as the roar of the crowd filled my ears.
Tonight’s ‘crowd’ consisted of three bikers, one of whom was passed out on a lawn chair, and a black Labrador retriever named Duff, and the only thing any of them shouted was, “I got next game.”
The families who weren’t staying had gone home, and the ones who were, had already headed to their respective rooms for the night.
“I think I’ve kicked all the ass I needed to make my point,” I replied.
“Next time, brother, I’m gonna kickyourass.”
“That’s what you said last time,” I retorted with a grin, handing my paddle to Grizz before headinginside to grab a fresh beer.
Once inside the clubhouse, I found my other brothers Cullen and Cade, standing together, talking.
“Don’t you guys see enough of each other at work?” I asked, breaking into their conversation.
“You’d have to show up to know, wouldn’t you?” Cullen asked.
“Damn, that’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” I replied.
My brothers and I were partners and co-owners of Wallace Brothers Construction, a commercial and residential building company. Business was booming, but my brothers were stressed out because we barely had the staff to cover all our scheduled jobs. Finding long-term qualified workers had proved to be our greatest challenge as business owners, and lately my brothers had even been questioning my commitment to the business. Not that I could blame them. My attendance record for meetings and site visits had been increasingly spotty in the past months, and they picked up on the fact I was clearly distracted and checked out when I was around.
“Sorry, Cam, but come on. How many times did you make it into the office last week? Twice? For a total of four hours,” Cullen replied.
