9
I decided the way to handle the Captain’s insistence was distance. Anytime I went to work at the shop I’d have the wire on like I was ordered. I only worked my shift, and anything that was recorded was just the random bullshit you hear around a bunch of men or interaction I had with customers. Of course, there was nothing incriminating to present. But, I did as I was ordered.
After my shift, I went to the gym. I sweated out my frustrations. I found that hitting the bag, putting pressure on myself, helped to clear my mind. I built a routine that I had intended to start but never really found the time to. Now that I wasn’t working the hours of my shift, I found myself with more time. I dropped body fat and worked on building muscle, there was something satisfying about it.
I knew I had lost sight of the reason behind this sting. Motorcycle clubs that committed violence and other crimes were gangs, they needed to be stopped. But this group didn’t seem to be violent. These guys weren’t bad, they were a group of men that had sacrificed a lot. Looking at the way Sid got around, they were still hurting from all the shit they’d given. I wasn’t going to break their shit up because other groups made them look bad. So I spent as little time at the clubhouse as I could.
It didn’t go unnoticed either. Usually, we’d end the night with dinner and a few beers at the clubhouse. The best way I could find to get out of the dinner and beer was to leave early. Often we would linger and talk shit, but I didn’t. I cleaned up, took inventory of my tools, clocked out and left before anyone got the chance to approach me. It was cold, it left me feeling heavy, and the guilt gnawed at me.
When I would see Tara in the evenings, I found that I wanted to blame her. If I hadn’t wanted her, if my inhibitions hadn’t been deluded, it wouldn’t have gone that way. Not really her fault, I know. But having someone to blame helped me feel better. Made it so I didn’t feel like I was drowning. However, this was becoming something impossible. The longer I thought about it, the more I wished I had been given a choice. I wasn’t up for shit like this. I couldn’t do this shit without getting sucked in and involved.
After the first week, Tara took notice of what I was doing.
“You’ve been coming home early a lot,” she chided. She was in my living room as I walked in the door. It was a little after 10pm, and I didn’t even bother to acknowledge her presence. I was raw now that she considered everything we’d done to be a mistake. “You’re pretty obvious, too,” she continued as she followed me. I had gotten back to my bedroom, intending to take a shower before I lay down for the night. “If I’m noticing it I know Captain is, too. What do you think will happen? You think you’re going to keep them out of trouble by not collecting any evidence? How long before they pull you? What happens then?”
I shrugged, not really having thought that far ahead. I hadn’t considered the consequences. I just knew what I couldn’t let happen if I just stopped going to the clubhouse. I just figured I would rather this group stay safe than anything else. The rest I would figure out later.
“So you’re going to give up the career?” She sighed.
“I don’t have anything to add.” I tugged my shirt off and threw it into the large pile of dirty clothes just inside the door. I took the time to pry off the tape that held the microphone to my chest. I then carefully pulled off the tape that held the device to my stomach. I tossed both of them at her without a care. “If you want to let Captain know about it, go ahead.”
I didn’t wait for her reply. I went into the bathroom and shucked my jeans so I could into the shower. I didn’t wait to see if she left. I just went about getting ready for bed as if she weren’t there. At that moment I was so bitter with the entire situation that I was ready to give up everything. They forced me to do this, now I was just determined to ride it out .