Page 84 of Praying for Thunder

“Hellion, you know we’re trying to leave. Pack your shit.”

This bike rally had been in the works for months, so I was ready. “Done, but—”

“No buts! Jesus, Hellion!”

“But, Rya—”

He shoved me. “Your bike. Now. Time to roll.”

“Listen to your father, Hellion.”

I seethed at Onus’ new woman. “Stop acting as if you have a say over me.”

Sharell appeared some months back. One morning, she came out of Dad’s bedroom, and hadn’t fucking left. I’d say she looked like the other club girls, but she was older. Early thirties, which was a decade older than the rest.

“Now, now, baby.” She kissed my cheek and gently nudged me off toward my room.

Ready to go nuclear because of this wanna-be-my-mama bitch that was clueless about what made me tick in her favor, I growled, “Fuck off,” and went to my room. It was now the one right next to the Mess Hall.

I grabbed my saddle bags and headed back into the kitchen, where Onus was. “Dad, I really need to talk—”

Fucking Sharell, shooing me toward the front door. “Out, out, baby.”

On the front porch, I faced inside. “Stop calling me baby, bitch!”

Laughter boomed from under the house and front yard. I think I even heard Dad laugh from inside.

The door slammed in my face.

Grumbling, I marched down the wooden stairs. “What is it with this woman?”

From the street in front of the clubhouse, I heard, “Baby need a little tit-tit?”

It was Piercer, already on his bike.

I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do with his ‘tit-tit’ comment, and to inform the woman on the back of his bike that he was a murderer, but he started his engine, laughing over the deafening rumble.

“Dick. Hole.” I made it down the rest of the stairs where more bikes were roaring to life.

When it came to driving, I wasn’t underage, but I didn’t have a driver’s permit or license yet. Yet, no officer dared pull me over. The logo on the back of my vest promised trouble they preferred to avoid.

Titans didn’t play by rules because they had none. If you crossed them, they’d make you pay by way of your family.

The only family I worried about right now was my Rya. That’s why, not having tried in years, I reached out to the Voice. Please keep her safe while I’m gone, then prepared for my first long ride.

I loved my bike. It was previously owned by someone else, but I had earned it with the scraps of money I was offered as a Prospect. With the guidance of some older patched brothers, Chubs and Roam helped me fix her up with some needed new parts.

Under the clubhouse, the Titans who had helped were standing around my bike. My stomach sank. “Shit! Is she leaking or something?” I pushed my way through but then stopped.

Then I saw a brand-new black seat in place of my ripped one.

Not sure what to say, or how to react to this gift, I looked around in awe. I never received gifts from the club. For the most part of living with Titans, I was ignored. I was the riff between brothers. Like the cops, most Titans preferred to stay clear of the feud.

Piercer, no longer laughing, and refusing to glance in my direction, was next to some Titans who didn’t live with us.

At the time, I didn’t realize what that collection of men meant. I was still unaware of how powerful a club’s divide could be. I couldn’t see that some Titans had already made a non-vocal decision showing what side they had chosen.

After I gave gratitude, “Thank you, everyone,” to the Titans who had also made a silent statement, there were nods, winks, and a few smiles as they got on their bikes. They let them roll backward out of the driveway that was far too small for all of us.