Chapter Twelve
Eagle
“I don’t like the idea of you going to that memorial service, Eagle.” Tonsils is pacing back and forth in the conference room where we hold church. “Wait.” He holds up a hand to stop me from talking before he’s done complaining. “Even if we’re with you, it only takes one bullet to kill someone.”
“I do it out of obligation, out of respect for Angel’s memory,” I remind him.
“I get it.” He sits across from me and folds his hands on the table. “We all loved that girl. Let Belle organize something here. We’ll invite anyone you want. Even her mother. We’ll party all night and then ride to the cemetery in the morning.”
Fuck that.Give Bear an excuse to question my bravery? My loyalty to his little sister? “I attend every year, so no matter what you say, Tonsils, I’m going.”
He shakes his head. “Things are different now. We’re growing, squeezing the Dead Dogs out. The only way you’re attending is with a ten-man escort packing heat.”
“Fine.”
“Me included.”
“No.” I shoot up from my chair. “Check the bylaws, brother. A president and his vice can’t attend any function together if there’s a risk of both of them getting hurt. One of us needs to be here. If something happens to me, you take over.”
“You can’t expect me to stay behind.”
“I do.”
“Goddamnit, Caleb. This isn’t a pissing match. Bear wants you dead. Remember? You left his big brother lying in a pool of blood in a warehouse. That shit never goes away. Neutral territory or not.”
“My first loyalty is to this club. You stay.”
“I call for a vote.”
The only way to override a decision I make is to veto it with a majority vote by patched members. I’ve known Tonsils since I was twelve. He’s ten years older than I am. He used to visit me at home when my mother and father were in Baton Rouge for the state legislative season. The bonds run deep, but occasionally, I pull rank.
“This is personal, Tonsils. Give it a rest.”
“That’s the problem. I’m afraid the Dead Dogs are gonna give you a seaside gravesite. You’re not thinking straight. And because of it, I’m calling for a vote.”
I can’t remember the last time a brother has opposed one of my decisions. But as an officer of the charter, Tonsils has the right to demand a vote if he thinks one of the members or the club is in jeopardy. At this point, I’m too wrapped up in my own thoughts to really give a shit. Regardless of the outcome of the vote, I’m going to the memorial service. “Do whatever you think is right. Vote your conscience.” I stomp to the double doors and open them in a huff. “Jack.” I gesture to the closest brother in the living room. He looks up from the pool table. “Roll call. Five minutes.”
“Got it.” He drops his cue stick on the table and hurries away to let the other brothers know it’s time for church.
Minutes later, twenty of our members file into the spacious room and grab a seat at the long table. I wait patiently while everyone settles down.
“This meeting is officially open,” I announce, knocking my knuckles on the tabletop a couple of times. I’m in no mood to sit down, so I stand in the corner, waiting for Tonsils to make his point.
“Not sure how many of you are aware of where our prez is heading on Saturday.” He pauses for effect and glances at me. There’s some mumbling among the members. “Yeah, that’s right, Sam. To a memorial service sponsored by the Dead Dogs.”
Several brothers look at me like I’m a fucking lunatic. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I’ve struggled to let the memories of Angel fade. Making it through a day without thinking about her, well, it hasn’t happened yet. How are you supposed to ever forget someone like her? The love we shared? The immense respect I felt for her? No girl has ever earned that much admiration from me.
It took nearly three years after her death for me to pull my head out of my ass long enough to stay sober for a day. Before that, I left a trail of bitterness in my wake. Once I sobered up, the real pain set in. The loneliness you feel late at night in bed is one thing, it’s expected. What struck me the most was that I could be surrounded by my brothers and friends and still feel like I was the only man standing.
“For Angel,” I say. Let them protest that.
“She’s been gone a long time,” Sam observes.
“Not long enough to forget,” I say.
“We don’t want you to forget, Eagle. Just think clearly before you dive into something head first,” my vice says. “I told you how I feel. The Dead Dogs want you dead.”
“And I want Bear’s ass,” I fume. “He played a big role in Angel’s death. That motherfucker needs to die.” I punch the wall and ignore the pain that follows. “There’s no reason to drag this out. You know where I stand. I’ll give you a few minutes to discuss it. Let me know when you’re ready to take a vote.”
