The abandoned warehouse of the Rabid Dogs MC loomed before me. It's broken windows and peeling paint showed it's age. The old repair shop sign had faded away from the bright sun. The rows of Harleys in the front was same as it was thirty years ago. This club had been my entire life and I'd finally given it up.
Being the President of the Rabid Dogs MC was no easy task. The amount of blood on my hands would never be washed away. The things I did in the name of my brothers would never be forgotten. And the amount of whores I emptied my balls into could never fill the void. Stepping down lifted a huge burden off my shoulders but I didn't know what to do with the rest of my time. The club was all I knew.
Sawyer was the new President now and he'd do a fine job. He was smart, strong, and above all else—willing to do whatever it took. But I could see the anguish on his face. Sawyer was being slowly destroyed from the inside out. He was about to make the same mistake I made all those years ago. “Take my advice, Sawyer, don't be like me and let the girl of your dreams pass you by. You're hardwired to fuck and forget but you don't want to be my age and wishing you did something different,” I told him.
Sawyer didn't have to give his life to the MC. He could be President and find happiness. But only if he could get past his deep-rooted ideas of what it means to be a biker.
I stared up at the motorcycle club, it's white banner with Rabid Dogs written all over it flapping in the wind. My mind returned to the good ol' days when the warehouse was a motorcycle repair shop. We weren't really good at fixing customer's bikes—we could barely fix our own. But it was ours and we loved it.
I remembered spending my days in the hot sun, drinking a cold beer, oil and grease all over my face. It couldn't get much better than that.
The repair shop didn't last very long after Cash was gunned down. He was always the best with numbers. We almost lost the entire warehouse but a few threatening words with the landlord made us able to keep the place even though we weren't running a business anymore. I always had plans to reopen the repair shop but never got around to it. Real club business always got in the way.
When Blaze first brought up the idea of a MC in high school, we all thought he was crazy. Most of us didn't even own motorcycles or even have our drivers license. But he was our fearless leader and we would have followed him into the depths of hell.
I walked into the warehouse and the place was bustling with people. The MC was never this busy back in the day. No other chapters. Just the Sacks County MC. Coal used to sling drinks behind the bar and E-Z knew how to consume them. Cash was always in the office staring at financial documents behind his spectacles.
We had a good thing going until Claire came into my life. And everything changed. Her long, curly dark hair with blue eyes could bring any man down to their knees. My mind was lost in a fog of emotions. My club meant everything to me and Claire threatened it all. I always regretted letting her go and I couldn't let Sawyer make the same decision. If he had a chance to live a normal life, he had to go for it.
The meeting room was empty when I entered. My fingers traced over the gavel at the head of the table. The long wooden table dominated the room with a Rabid Dogs spider carved into it. It took Tater months to finish the thing. I sat down in my seat, the chair creaking with age. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I'd made so many decisions in this room over the years. Some bad and some good. Blaze used to sit in here all day, dreaming about ways to take the club to the next level. But now it was Sawyer's domain. His turn to steer the club in the direction he thought best.
I looked up at the row of pictures framed on the wall of our fallen brothers. There were too many pictures. We'd lost so many over the years. So many under my watch. Did I do a good enough job? We're those lives lost under my rule in vain? My eyes began to tear up and my throat choked.
I never meant to be President. I wasn't meant for all the pressure and responsibility. If Blaze was still around, my life would have been entirely different. We might not have lost so many men. There would have been a lot fewer sleepless nights.
I kissed two fingers and placed them on Blaze's photo. “Rest in peace, buddy. Hope you're giving God hell up there.”
I left the MC and hopped on my old Harley. The thing was still kicking after all these years. Kind of like me. Now it was time to begin the next chapter.