GAUGE
“Listen, daddy dearest”—Laney clicked her fingers in the doorway of my room—“Belle says no drinking, so no fucking drinking. It can’tbe that hard to follow asingle order. Imean, Iknow that you’re pig-headed and stupid, but even you can manage this little rule.”
“Goddamn it, Laney, gimme that fuckin’ bottle back,” Iargued, pissed off with her. But then, what was new there?
She stalked toward me, bottle in hand, her finger pointed in the other, and when she got within reach she tipped the bottle upside down, the amber contents pouring from the neck and onto the floor.
“What the fuck, Laney?” Iyelled.
When the bottle was empty, she held it out to me, her eyes narrowing. “There you go. Have at it.”
Igripped the bottle and launched it across the room with aroar of temper. It hit the wall with aresounding smash, splintering into hundreds of pieces. Laney, being my kid, didn’teven flinch. Instead, she rolled her eyes.
“Well that was dramatic.” She turned and stalked back toward the door.
Iroared into the air, my temper knowing no bounds but my tongue not being able to find the words Iwanted to say. She was my daughter, but mostly she was my prez’sold lady, so what Iwanted to say had to be toned down some.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, why’ve you gotta be such amassive bitch all the time, huh?” Ifinally squeezed out between my clenched teeth. “This fuckin hurts, ya know!”
When she turned and looked back at me, it was with obvious disdain. “So take the painkillers like agood boy. Or do Ihave to bring aclub whore in here to feed them to you from their snatches? That seems the only way you men will do anything.”
“Idon’twant no goddamn pills. Just get me another bottle of whiskey and some weed and leave me be.” Idragged ahand down my face, which was now sweating profusely. “Christ, woman, get me the weed at least.”
Iclosed my eyes, trying to push past the pain that burned through my shoulder and thigh, and when Iopened them again, Laney was standing over me with alook on her face that Ihadn’tseen before.
“You need to take your pain meds, Dad,” she said, her tone without the usual hard edge or dripping with sarcasm. “They’ll help manage the pain better than whiskey. Belle said…”
“Belle don’tknow what the fuck she’stalking about, kid,” Ireplied, cutting her off. “Please,” Isaid with another heavy sigh, “just get me something else. Anything but those goddamn pills.”
Laney frowned. “I’msorry. For once in your life you need to listen to other people and do as you’re told. You need to rest and you need to take the pain meds that were prescribed for you,” she replied. “And stay in bed. I’ll let you know if Ihear anything about Jolie or the Vipers.” And then she left.
Ifelt my top lip rise in frustration, and then, despite what Belle, Laney, and anyone else had said, Iswung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Dizziness washed over me in waves and my whole body sagged, forcing me to sit back down. Clutching my head in my hands, it took several moments of slow breathing to control the pain and the dizziness. Finally, Ireleased my head from my hands and stood up again, that time with less vigor and with more calm. Ifelt the tug on my stitches and Iautomatically pressed ahand to my side, wincing as Idid. Ihesitated, wondering momentarily if everyone was right and Ishould just rest up in bed. My brothers knew what they were doing. They knew how to get shit done. But then the image of Christian filled my mind; the way he’dlooked at me, the way he’dsworn to bring down my club, and the promise he’dmade to find Jolie.
Anger quickly followed.
Iwas aman of action, not one that sat around while Igoddamn healed. Ididn’twait for other men to do my work, Iwent and did what needed to be done. And right then Ineeded some whiskey, and then Ineeded to find Jolie, and then Ineeded to find those Viper motherfuckers and gut every last one of them. Especially that motherfucker Christian.
Igritted my teeth and slowly made my way to the bedroom door, cracking it open and sighing as the familiar scents and sounds of the club filled me up. That place had been the only real home I’dknown. Before there it had been atiny one-bed apartment that my brother and Ihad shared with parents that fought until they drew blood. Hence we were rarely there. The club was the first solid thing in my life, barring my brother. The day I’dpatched in Ifelt asense of belonging that I’dnever felt before, and Iswore that Iwould protect it and everything it stood for with my blood, sweat, and tears until the day Idied.
Breathing in that smell of booze and cigarettes, the sounds of clinking of bottles and boots stomping over wooden floors that had seen better days—those were the things that would make me feel better. Not sitting in bed all day waiting for shit to happen.
Imade my way along the narrow hallway toward the main room, an obvious limp in my step, but Ididn’tgive afuck. I’dslept the day and night away, but Iwas alive—and so long as Iwas alive, they couldn’tmake me sit in that fucking bed one more minute.
As Iturned the corner into the main room, Cueball, Max, and Cutter looked up from the card game that they were playing at the table, their eyes widening only fractionally before returning to their game. Acigarette hung from between Cueball’slips and he kicked out astool for me.
“You want in on this?” he asked, his gaze on his cards.
“Where is everyone?” Iasked, looking around.
Devlin and Apryl were wiping down the bar with all the enthusiasm of avegan in abutcher’s, and Iassumed they were cleaning up the previous night'sescapades, which couldn’thave been pretty.
“Church,” Max replied, his expression fixed with concentration.
Iscowled and stormed over to him. “What the fuck is going on here?” Iyelled, gripping the back of his cut and dragging him up from his seat, despite the pain radiating from my various wounds. His chair fell backwards as Ijabbed my thick finger at his patch. “What does that say?”
His eyes widened. “Prospect.”
“Prospect what, motherfucker?” Isnarled, pressing my face closer to his.
