It looked like the conversation he wanted to avoid would happen sooner than expected.
His father, Zak, tossed the now empty plastic bucket to the side. “Out in the fuckin’ courtyard, laid out on a picnic table with your goddamn jeans ‘round your fuckin’ ankles, your panties ‘round your knees, and your fuckin’ limp dick flappin’ in the breeze. Nobody wants to see that shit.”
Zeke begged to differ. If he remembered correctly, Shimmer had a good time, even if they had to do it out in theopen because no one had a key to unlock his goddamn room upstairs.
Luckily, Shimmer wasn’t shy.
But then, neither was Zeke.
“Goddamn embarrassment.” Zak jabbed his chest hard with his index finger. Before Zeke could say anything, his old man growled, “Don’t want to fuckin’ hear it. Did this latest stint in the joint make you lose your goddamn mind? And your fuckin’ memory?”
Zeke ground his teeth.
Zak jabbed him again. “You forget what that goddamn patch says on your cut?”
Zeke glanced down before he could stop himself. Where the fuckwashis cut?
“You forget you’re the fuckin’ president of this goddamn club?”
Zeke winced. His father’s shouting, combined with his hangover, was making his head throb even worse. “No, didn’t forget. Also didn’t forget you ain’t.” With another wince, he massaged his pounding temples.
“Hope you wore a goddamn wrap. The fuck if you’re ready to be a father. And I sure as fuck ain’t ready to raise any grandbabies. ‘Specially when you keep provin’ that we did a shit job of raisin’ you.”
Zeke gingerly climbed off the picnic table and yanked up his boxer briefs and jeans, not bothering to fasten them. “Since we’re conveniently forgettin’ shit, did you also forget I’m thirty-two-fuckin’-years old? Ain’t a kid no more.” He certainly didn’t need to be scolded by his old man.
Zeke glanced around, relieved to see no one else was outside to witness it.
Including Shimmer.
The sweet butt must’ve split as soon as he passed out.
“Then stop actin’ like it. Grow the fuck up and take your responsibility to this club, our brotherhood, and our family seriously.”
“That ain’t no fun,” Zeke grumbled.
“You want fun, join a fuckin’ circus since you’re actin’ like a goddamn clown.” With a shake of his head, his old man spun on his heel and strode back toward Church.
“Hey,” he called out, then groaned in pain. “You got my keys?”
Zak turned and whipped a set of keys in his direction. They landed in the beaten down grass ten feet from Zeke.
“Delivered your sled, too, in order to spare your fuckin’ mother more disappointment.” As he strode away, he tossed over his shoulder, “You’re goddamn welcome.”
Zeke glanced around, found his cut nearby, then patted the pockets until he found the cigarette case Vi gave him. He slid out a joint, lit it, and pulled in a long hit.
He settled his ass back on top of the picnic table and set his boots on the attached bench, propped his elbow on his thighs, and dropped his head in his hands while waiting for his world to stop spinning.
“Hey, dickhead.”
Great.Zeke’s head twisted toward the very familiar voice.
“You certainly perfected pissin’ off our old man.”
“Can’t all be a fuckin’ brown-noser like you.”
Zane chuckled, dropped his head, and shook it. “Mom wants to see you.”
“Seems like Daddy Dearest don’t want me to see her.”
