Chapter nineteen:
3 months ago
Jesse
It was nearly done. Thank fuck.
Couple more days, max, and I’d be taking the Harley out on the road with the roar of the two-cylinder, V-twin engine, riding low, and loud as fuck. A guttural cry from the devil himself, no doubt.
Butch and I had been working on the bike for almost eighteen months now, though I would have had it finished a lot earlier if he’d have let me, but it had started out as our project and we’d kept it that way for a reason. Life had gotten pretty hectic recently, but the bike always brought us back together. The bike had been built from the ground up, almost every part original and custom made to order.
It was a one of a kind, more so than any of the bikes I’d built for anyone else.
It was a sight to behold, too. All matte black and shiny chrome, with rigid frames with springer front ends and ape hangers. She was fucking beautiful. I dreamed about riding that bike as much as I dreamed about riding my woman.
The shutter to the garage was up, Hardy & Son’s MC Shop in full swing, but I’d found myself with a couple of hours to spare, and knowing Butch was on his way back after a ride out for the club, I knew he’d want to get straight to working on the Harley as soon as he could.
I’d been patched in a while back, but I was still mainly stationed at the garage, for the most part. Laney liked it that way, and though I liked being close to her, I wanted to be out on the road more, like Butch. He was going on longer and longer rides, meaning that we saw each other less and less. The club was my family, every one of them my brothers, but Butch was the only true blood I had. Hardy didn’t count.
Laney had gone to some old lady meet with River and Charlie, Axle and Rider’s women. It was supposed to be a meeting to discuss a party for Skinny’s return after serving time in the DOC, but I had no doubt that Laney and the others would be stripped off to tiny string bikinis and sipping on margaritas by now.
I reached down and readjusted my dick, the thought of Laney in that tiny white bikini of hers, all wet from Charlie’s pool, turning me as hard as a rock.
The roar of bikes had me looking up, and I watched as Butch, Dom, and Gauge pulled in and parked their bikes. I stood up and wiped my hands down my jeans and headed out to see them. Butch was hanging his helmet on his bars and talking to Dom as I approached, and Gauge was already heading inside—to speak to Hardy, no doubt.
“Decided to show your sorry ass back around here, did you?” I joked, referring to the poker game he’d lost the night before he’d headed out. He’d lost a shit load of cash and had stormed off in a foul fucking mood with only akiss my assas a goodbye to everyone.
“Couldn’t have you running your mouth off now, could I?” Butch joked and pulled me into a hug, poker game forgotten.
“Too late for that. You’ll never get laid again after the shit I’ve said about you.”
“Oh yeah?” he smarted arrogantly, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah,” I laughed. “I may have even brought up that picture you used to carry around of Mom.”
His face fell. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare.”
“Bitches thought that shit was cute—I probably did you a favor. At least until I told them the rest of the story, brother!”
“What fuckin’ story is this?” Dom laughed, stepping into the conversation. “I ain’t heard nothin’ about a photograph of your mom.” He frowned. “And here I was thinking we shared everything. I’m hurt,” he joked, placing a hand on his heart, and we both started laughing.
The door to the clubhouse opened and Hardy stood in the doorway, his presence dominating the space. “Get in here! I need intel, now!” He turned and went back inside, and the door slammed closed behind him.
I looked over to Butch, who was shaking his head in annoyance.
“That’s one angry motherfucker,” Dom said, his smile gone. He slapped Butch on the back and made a cross over himself. “Good luck in there.”
Butch tried to laugh it off, but it was obvious he didn’t have good news to pass on. “I’ll be over as soon as I can, Jesse. We’ll work on the bike together tonight, yeah?” He started to walk away and looked back. “And keep your mouth shut about me from now on!”
I showed him my middle finger and laughed. Dom followed me over to the Harley, giving a low whistle as he ran his palm over the seat.
“She’s looking good,” he said. “She almost done?”
“Yeah, any day now.” I picked up my wrench again and continued to screw the bolts tighter on the dressers. I’d sprayed them last week, and Casa had hand-painted the Highwaymen logo on them for me. Man was a genius with paint and was fucking wasted working at the strip club, in my opinion. But Casanova by name, Casanova by nature, I guess.
“Everything go okay out there?” I asked, turning back to Dom.
He shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “Not really. Shit is fucked up.”
