HARD KNOX(31)

“Left pocket,” the old man said.

The guard reached into my father’s pocket and pulled out a couple bags of dope.

I shook my head as the guard walked away.

The old man shrugged. “I still gotta earn, son. No motorcycles to fix in here, so I keep the guards happy. It’s a means to an end.”

“I know your ending,” I said.

“Son, we all have the same ending. I’m just on the fast track for it.”

I had to hand it to him. Hammer knew how to take care of things. He always did.

“So you’re doing good here?” I asked.

“You didn’t come to talk about that. Sit the f*ck down, kid.”

We sat. I had planned on talking to the old man with a little bit of etiquette, but as I sat there in my leather cut, there was no getting around why I was there.

“What the f*ck are you doing?” he asked.

“We can’t sit and wait anymore,” I said. “I had the guys put their cuts on last night. I’m tired of it, Dad.”

He nodded. “It comes with responsibility and a lot of heat. The second someone sees the Reap patch flying through the air on a steel horse, it’s going to drum up all the old shit. Including King.”

“Hey,” I said. “You guys are inside, not me. Sorry. Anyone approaches, they can look at the garage. We’re keeping the lights with our legit business. Everything after dark… f*ck it. We’re doing it whether we’re in cuts or not.”

“You know, Knoxville, it takes some serious balls to do that. With me sitting here. Knowing what I’m up against on the inside. You talk to Uncle Jakey yet?”

“No.”

The old man laughed. “He’s going to rip your dick off and make you eat it.”

“I’m well aware of the implications of this decision. I wanted to face you man to man and get your blessing.”

“Blessings,” the old man said. He opened his hands. “Yes, the Lord shineth uponith meith todayith…”

“Funny.”

“They have chapel here,” he said. “Different than ours though, kid. They read out of a book instead of using their eyes and mind.”

“It’s more comforting that way,” I said. “So you have someone to blame for when shit goes wrong.”

“Who do you blame, son?”

“For what?”

“Your life. Your Ma took off. I f*cked your girlfriend’s mother. I ran a life of an outlaw right into a life sentence. I left you with nothing. I gave you nothing. Shit, you were nothing but a pile of cum that somehow hit the right spot at the right time.”

That was his way of saying he loved me.

“Well, thanks for shooting a load into my mother’s slit and not her throat. Glad I was created and not digested.”

“That’s the spirit, son,” the old man said.

“I’m going to turn on the son thing for a second,” I said. “I’m here right now, Hammer, to ask about the President’s seat.”

His face turned hard. His nostrils flared. It was a soft spot for him and rightfully so. He never gave up the gavel. Nobody ever voted him out either. But a President couldn’t run a club in prison. Not on a life sentence either. And technically, since he hadn’t ridden in years, his seat was considered vacant.

“Get the f*ck out of here,” he said. He stood up and grabbed the key off the table.

“No, Prez,” I said. “I’m not leaving without an answer.”

“I said to f*cking leave.”

He started to move and reached across the table, grabbing the chains that held his hands together. He swung up, smashing me against the bottom of my mouth. All I tasted was blood. But I didn’t let the chains go. I pulled the old man across the table and threw him to the ground. I stepped back and let him climb to his feet.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Answer me, Prez.”

“Cut it with the Prez shit, son.”

“Give me my answer, Hammer.”

The old man charged at me. He still had the same size and strength as I remembered. He drove me back into a wall and we wrestled to the ground. We landed an equal two punches and broke apart again.

I sat with my knees bent.

He wiped blood from the corner of his eye.

“Fuck,” he said. “The seat is vacant, son. I’m not the President of the Reaper’s Bastards anymore. We both know that.”

“Then who succeeds you?” I asked.

He looked at me. “You want me to say you.”

“I want an answer. My boys are ready to ride. We’re ready to earn and take back our town.”

“It’s bad, huh?”

“Getting there. Ana got herself…”

“Ana, huh? Jesus Christ, Knoxville. Still dipping in the same watering hole. What did I tell you…”

“I don’t want to hear it. She’s been close to someone in the family. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and waiting for those suited goons to show up.”

“Looks like they already did,” the old man said, nodding to the marks on my face from Porter.

“That’s why I’m starting this. I’m not stopping until I get what I want.”