At the mention of her kids, her stone face instantly softens before hardening again, “Well, when their dad shows up asking to take them to dinner, I have two options: be the bitch I want to be and kick him in the nuts or be the bigger person and let my kids have time with him. He may not be my favorite person, but I won’t keep them from any time they can have with him.”
“Smoke came back to town?” I ask wondering if the fool realizes he’s playing with fire.
Those kids are everything to her and if he upsets them, disappoints them, or in any way rocks their boat, she will likely kick him in the nuts before castrating him. Smoke knows he fucked up years ago. For whatever reason the jackass will not get his head on straight and fix this shit. Not once has he tried to apologize. More than that, and Stud’s biggest problem, the fucker won’t come back to Salemburg to be around day in and day out for his kids. He sends money and calls, but never consistently shows up. Honey, Stud, any of us, we want those kids to have their dad again. Smoke, though, he checked out. Even if it doesn’t make sense, he’s still a Hellion. He made his choice to go Nomad, and it’s not my place as his brother to wade in on his home life.
Honey sighs, “Rode in and he’ll be ridin’ right back out tomorrow he says.” The agitation is clear in her tone.
I step behind the counter, closing the laptop screen on her before taking her hand to guide her to stand.
“Come on, there’s a get together at the clubhouse. Have a beer, unwind your brain.” Before she can think on it, I pull her into my side wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Tiff,” her eyes soften that I use her real name which doesn’t happen often for any of us. “Don’t let the shit with Smoke steal your peace. Let’s have a beer. Bray and Key will be home before you know it, and he’ll hit the road again.”
“That’s the problem,” she mutters draping her arm around my back as we make our way out of her office. “Rolls in like the wind and rides right the fuck back out without a second thought to my kids wondering if or when they will see him again. He comes in does what he wants, has fun, and leaves me to take the fall for everything else. These kids get older and have more questions. I try to protect them, protect him even, but damn I don’t know what to even say anymore. Frankly, I don’t understand men, especially Smoke.”
I let out a sigh, “you know he’s a Nomad. You know he chose the life of riding where he wants when he wants with no commitment to a single chapter, just answering the calls wherever he goes. It’s a lifestyle he’s dedicated himself to.”
“Fuck that Nomad shit.” She gives back to me. “He got cold feet when I asked for him to grow up. He wants to be a little bitch, that’s his problem, it’s not a Nomad thing to run because you wanna be afraid of commitment.”
“Whoa, I get it, he winds you up. Love and hate are two powerful emotions, Honey. Tread lightly.” As much as I may agree with her feelings, he is still my brother.
That gets me the classic Honey smirk. “Raff, I do not understand men. That isn’t love or hate, it’s straight baffling how y’all can be. My emotions for Smoke are nothing anymore. I’m numb. Don’t love him, don’t hate him, just need to co-parent with his ass. And that co-parenting would be easier with communication from the wild man.”
I can’t stop the laugh, “Men don’t even understand men, Honey. Just how it is.”
She settles against me. After a momentary pause to lock the front door, we stroll across the street to the clubhouse. As soon as we approach the gate, the prospect opens it, and we walk through.
Sure, I could have parked behind the gate like a lot of the brothers, but I don’t plan to crash here tonight, and I like the freedom of parking over at Honey’s. The overflow parking always lands in Honey’s lot anyway. Easier for me to get out when I’m ready to leave.
The music plays as we enter the building. Honey releases me at the same time I take my hand from her shoulders. She doesn’t always come to these weekend parties, but she has been around enough of them throughout the years to know how this goes. Low key, just the local Hellions and friends, nothing over the top. A night to unwind together.
“Grab my spot for us, time to people watch, I’ll get the beers,” I instruct heading to the bar.
This place was an actual bar for years and years. After Stud retired from the military, he built the garage for another revenue source to support his family. Honey and her brother grew up turning wrenches right beside him. When he joined the Hellions MC, he started in a different charter and simply drove from Salemburg to everything that club had going on. Over time, everyone saw the need for a Salemburg charter and Stud stepped up as President once Roundman approved the chapter.
Knowing sometimes the Hellions, any one of us across both Carolina’s can be rowdy, Stud knew there needed to be a hangout that wasn’t the hot rod shop. When this property came up as an option, he couldn’t resist buying it. He bought this old bar from a riding buddy that decided he was getting too old to deal with the drunk bastards anymore. While I’m sure the regulars at the old Hilltop Saloon wished Stud kept it open to the public, that wasn’t his plan. From the beginning, this right here is what he envisioned.
One thing about Stud, he comes up with an idea, for business or for fun, he will see it through. Success or failure, the man dreams it up, he goes for it all or nothing.
He gutted the original place to build it into our clubhouse and used the other five acres around the building to put in a few crash pads while still giving space around each structure for mowing before the fence. Because, yes, he sure did fence the entire property off with six feet tall chain link that is covered in black mesh, and a triple set of barbed wire runs the top. We don’t need anyone deciding to play peek-a-boo.
I like it because I can park at the hot rod shop and walk over without feeling confined. There is something about not being able to jump on my bike and go that always winds me up. Confinement irritates me and fucks with my head. When the time comes, I will leave. Sometimes I’ll say goodbye, other times I simply jet. They all know how I am. This is the thing about the brotherhood, there is no judgement amongst us. True acceptance is rare, and given my past, I’m thankful to have found it in the Hellions.
At the bar, I nod to the prospect working and lift my hand giving him two fingers. Knowing my usual, he brings over two IPA beers in bottles. Snagging the tops on the bottle openers that are screwed into the edges of the bar, I pop both open before making my way over to the high-top table Honey is sitting at. She knows how I am and where I prefer to sit.
“You make shit easy, Honey,” I tell her as I slide onto the stool across from her. “Always know exactly where I want to be.” My back to the wall and no space for anyone behind me, she picked my spot like we do this all the time. She is observant though and treats every Hellion like her own brother. Honey doesn’t usually sit with me here, but she has attended enough times to see where I’m comfortable.
“Raff, you been in this club how many years?” She asks taking a pull from her beer. “I know you don’t like anyone behind you. I know you want to see what’s coming at you. And more than anything when the clock strikes midnight, you’re gonna take off to God knows where like fuckin’ Cinderella.”
I nod in reply. Honey knows all of us, possibly better than we know ourselves. She is a watcher. Quiet but intentional. She studies everyone and takes note of each of our personality traits.
She gives me a half grin, “You turn into a pumpkin, Raff? Is that why you gotta watch the clock?”
We both laugh. “Nope, I turn into a gourd. The most bitter vegetable around.”
She takes another pull of her beer. “So we’re gonna be jaded together?”
I nod, “at least for tonight, Honey.”
“At least you’re always honest, Raff. Even if it hurts.”
