Chapter Seven
Dax
I had spent the day my dad found me sleeping in his office going through more security tapes. I didn’t find many that were right before I got busted but I was sorting through them, diligently. It was going to take some time though and after hours of dust up my nose and an aching neck from sitting on the floor I decided to call it a night and go see what my mom was making for dinner. I checked on Olivia first but she wasn’t in the room and her car wasn’t in the lot so I figured she had other plans and went on alone.
When I got to parent’s house I was surprised to find my dad there. My mom had made his favorites, meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy and asparagus. I thought maybe it was an anniversary or God forbid they were feeling intimate.
I told my mom, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you guys. I thought you’d be eating alone.”
“Dax, we’re all family, sweetie. We can have dinner together. It will be nice.”
“Yeah, nice,” I said, forcing a smile.
I sat at the opposite end of the table from my dad. He looked as pleased that I was there as I was about seeing him. I didn’t know what to say to him anymore and I was sure he felt the same. I didn’t know if he’d set me up or if he was telling me the truth. I was counting on my mom to keep the conversation going.
“Dax, any luck with a job, honey?”
“No, mom. Nobody wants to hire a parolee.”
“Don’t put yourself down, Dax,” she said.
I laughed. “I’m not putting myself down mom. It’s the truth. I’m a parolee and no one wants to hire me.”
“Any ideas what you’re going to do?” She had a prominent worry line between her brows.
I didn’t really want to talk about it in front of my dad, but I said, “I’m considering trying to open up a tattoo parlor.”
“Really?” my mom questioned me, surprised. I think my dad was grinning. “Is that very expensive?”
“I’d need a shop and the basic tools, a gun, ink, sterilizer. I haven’t really figured out the bottom line just yet.”
“Why not?” my dad asked between bites of meatloaf.
“Um…I don’t know.”
“Dax, your life is not going to just jump back on track all on its own. Honey, you don’t really have anything else to do, right? You should take some time to sit down and figure this all out.”
My mom was great. She could lecture me and make it seem like normal conversation. When it was over, I came away feeling good, like maybe I’d asked for her advice. The worst part was the two of them had ganged up on me.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I told my mother. “I’ll sit down and do that tonight.”
My dad was smiling. I shot him a look and that just made him more amused. The rest of the meal, my dad ate, my mom talked and I did a lot of “Mm hmm and okay’s,” but overall she was right, it was nice. After dinner I tried to help her clean up but she wouldn’t let me.
She looked at my dad and said, “Why don’t you boys talk for a while?”
“Sure,” he responded.
After she left the room I turned towards my dad and said, “Not so funny when you’re the one she’s pushing to do something, is it?”
He laughed. “No, it’s funnier when she’s got it turned on you, but in this case you’re wrong son. I got no issue with spending some time talking to you.”
I didn’t know what to say again. His warm moments had been so few and far between my entire life, I didn’t know how to deal with them.
He actually came to the rescue by saying, “If you have any time left after sitting down and figuring out the bottom line like your Mama told you to do then tomorrow you can go for a ride with us.”
I smiled, but I wanted to flip him off for his sarcasm. I resisted.
“Yeah, I think I’ll have time to do both,” I told him. “What time are you leaving?”
“Be at the bar by ten.”
“I’ll be there,” I told him.
That night I stayed in my old room and I did sit down and go online and figure out how much it might cost to start my business. I made a list so that at the very least I could show my mom I was serious. The first thing I had to do was, apply for a business permit. California required new businesses to have a business permit. I found the address of the City Clerk’s office and wrote that down next to number one. The next thing said something about a tax certificate which if I did this, I was going to leave to my mom. She did all of that stuff for my dad. I’m sure she would help me out with it too. I read a few articles on zoning laws. I guess some cities especially in Cali had an issue with tattoo shops in general. Ours didn’t seem to have such a hang up, which was good.
It said I had to register with the County Health Department. That cost about $150. Man, this was a lot of crap. I wrote their address down too and then I read the rest. California has a lot of laws about using needles and disposing of them. Those laws extend to the inks as well.
Lastly I made a list of necessary things like needles, guns, inks, etc. and I found a business plan online that estimated the cost of start-up, including rent and utilities to be at twenty-five thousand dollars.
Before I left for the ride, my mom asked to see what I had come up with. I was really glad my dad was already gone. He would have had a field day with that one.
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It was almost ten when I got to the bar and the guys were almost all saddled up and ready to go. All together there were eight of us. Terrance was there, but I ignored him. I didn’t have anything left to say to him. If we couldn’t avoid each other, hopefully he would steer clear of talking to me. I didn’t ask where we were going, but I didn’t let my saddle bags out of my sight either.
We took off with my dad in the lead and headed towards the hills. It was a beautiful day, crisp and cool. The trees that lined the freeway were covered in orange and red leaves and the hills in the distance were covered with wildflowers. I wished that I was going to be able to do some sketching on this trip up, but asking the club to take a break so I could get my charcoals out and sketch a flower or a tree wouldn’t go over well.
We rode for about an hour before I saw my dad turn off onto a gravel road that led up around the hill. We followed it up about a mile and a half and stopped in front of a rusty old gate. Beyond that, there was a good sized warehouse in the background and an old white house with a big wrap-around porch. There were about three big guys standing on the porch, looking in our direction. I didn’t see any guns, but I didn’t doubt they had them nearby.
My dad got off his bike and he and Terrance’s dad walked up to the gate. That’s when I saw the other guys ride up. There were about six of them and they had ridden up from the direction of the house. When they got off their bikes I could see that they were wearing our patch, but it was different. I was guessing a spin-off club. Two guys got off their bikes and came forward. The guy in the front looked familiar. and after he unlocked the gate and pushed it open he took off his helmet and I realized I was looking at Brock, my big brother.
Big brother is not just a statement about age where Brock is concerned. He weighed at least 275-300 lbs. and I’d be willing to bet not an ounce of that was fat. He had been solid muscle for as long as I could remember and when I was a skinny kid, I was actually a little bit afraid of him. He never hit me, but he had a hot temper and I wasn’t ever sure what he was capable of. He called me string bean and said my neck was too skinny to hold up my big head. He was six foot tall by the time he was in sixth grade and I literally looked up at him my whole life. I thought he stopped growing around six four. I was never sure where he got all that height. My dad couldn’t be over five nine and although Brock’s mother was long gone before I ever came along. I had trouble seeing my dad with an Amazon.
Brock and my dad hugged. The day I was talking to my mother and he came up, it had suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t heard his name so much as mentioned since I’d been home. It looked like him and my dad had been in touch. Before I went to prison, he was always at the club house. My whole life, actually. Brock was five years older than me, the product of one of my dad’s hook-ups with a porn star who went way south on heroin. By the time he was sixteen and I was eleven he was riding with the club and I was a little jealous. My mom raised him the same as she did me, but for whatever reason, he always resented her. He and I almost did come to blows a few times over that. I used to hate the way he talked to her. I thought he owed her a lot more respect than he showed her.
He and my dad were always so much closer than my dad and I was. He was the kind of son that my dad had imagined for himself and his only failing in my dad’s eyes was that he was not my mother’s son. I had to assume that many of Brocks issues with my mother were because he knew that.
All the guys started getting off their bikes so I did too and that was when my dad hollered at me to come over. Terrance’s dad, my dad and Brock were talking until I walked up and then there was sudden silence.
Brock looked me up and down and said, “I’ll be damn string bean, look at you! You have muscles in your neck now that look strong enough to hold up that big old head.”
“Fuck you!” I yelled with a grin.
Brock came closer and grabbed me in a hug. “Welcome home, kid.” he said.
“Thanks,” I said.
I noticed Brock’s patch and it said, “President.” There was a guy about Brock’s age standing a few steps back. His said, “Vice President.” Brock started his own fucking club. I had to wonder how well that went over with my dad. Not that my dad expected Brock to take over for him. For some reason, he’d always wanted me to do that. I over-heard him tell my mother once that it was because Brock was too hot-headed. Whatever it was, it had been the source of a lot of tension between him and our dad over the years. I guess they came to a compromise.
“All of our shipments go through Brock,” my dad said.
“What?” I thought I’d heard him wrong.
“Everything goes through your brother.”
“Brock? You have your own business. You’re trafficking now?”
Brock looked at me with his pale blue eyes and for a second it looked like he had something important or profound to say.
But he opened his mouth and said, “Something like that, little brother. You and our dear daddy just have to keep the crates sealed and keep them coming and I’ll keep making sure they get where they need to go.”
Our dad was looking at Brock in a way that told me there was more going on between them than either of them cared to share with me. I knew I should have walked away already. Brock thought I was part of this. Being part of this can easily land my ass back in prison. But I couldn’t turn back now. I couldn’t make myself do it. All of this was somehow going to lead me to finding out who set me up and I was obsessed.
I did have to wonder what my dad’s angle was. He knew that I wasn’t a part of this, yet he’d purposely invited me along on this ride and called me over just to tell me my brother was in charge of all the shipments. I got the feeling my dad was trying to tell me something, but I didn’t know what. It would be nice if anyone in this family ever just said what was on their fucking mind.
“Brock is kind of a middleman,” my dad said. “He makes the deals and then makes the switch. The crate for the money. That keeps us safe and it makes the men we’re dealing with more comfortable.”
“Who keeps Brock safe?” I asked, jokingly. The guy next to him stepped forward and Brock stopped him with a meaty arm.
“Your big-brother ain’t ever needed a babysitter,” Brock said.
I felt an old flare of anger shoot through me. He used to call my mother the babysitter. I was pretty sure it was a stab at her. For some reason he was trying to piss me off. One thing my dad had always been right about was that I was smarter than my big brother. I counted nine guys on that side of the fence. I was not taking those odds. He and I just passed a look that told him I knew he was being an asshole and told me he didn’t give a fuck. What a messed up family this shit was.
Brock hugged our dad again before taking off. I got a clap on the shoulder and another, “Damn, I just can’t get over how good being in the joint was for you.” I let that one slide too.
On the way back to our bikes I asked my dad, “Why did you want me to come today?”
My dad shrugged and looked back over his shoulder at his other son. “I just thought you might like to see your brother.”
I watched my brother ride back towards his safe house and I wondered if he’d be so mouthy if we ever met up one on one.