CAL
Maddie looks up at me with these big, swollen eyes, and I’m melting. This girl knows how to twist me around in knots, more than any woman I've ever been with. She’s got that direct line to my soft spot, and even though I’m enraged, furious at how she acted, I still can’t stand to yell at her.
I kneel down to her, taking her tiny hands in mind and wipe her cheeks with my thumb. I lower my voice, sweeting it for her, “Listen, Maddie. If your mother was here, she would be doing these things, but she’s not. I’m not gonna pretend that you ain’t been raised like you ought to be. You shouldn’t have to see half the crap you do, but I wanna do right by you.”
Maddie nods her little head knowingly, her mess of curls falling around her face. She brushes them away, stiffens her chin, and looks back up at me. She’s a tough girl, and she isn’t one to show weakness. That’s one thing I can be proud of teaching her.
“Was Miss Springer mad?” Her voice is cracking, but she pulls it out amongst the sniffles and chokes.
She surprises me with this question. That annoying, stuck up bitch doesn’t know zilch about Maddie. Nor does she really care about her. She’s just one of those needle nosed ladies who need to be put in their place. I laugh as I ask jokingly, “What do you care about that teacher? I thought you hated her.”
“No!” Maddie exclaims, breaking her tears. “Miss Springer is cool. She treats me right. She stands up for me, and she doesn’t make me read out loud in class unless I want to. And she never yells at me.”
A teacher that doesn’t yell…now that is a surprise. By the way her classroom was all perfect and set, you’d think that woman would yell about a fly getting in the room – let alone Maddie beating the shit out of some asshole kid. Maybe she’s not what I think she is. Maybe she isn’t the kind of bitch that gets off on power trips. Maybe I underestimated her.
Maddie certainly seems to care, and I can guess why. This isn’t a place of love and affection. And I’m on night rides out to the drop points so much that she spends more time with the underlings and the club’s old ladies than she does with me. When I do see her, it’s moments in between club meetings or school runs.
And I’m sure when she’s here, and I’m not, she’s seeing some bad shit, too. Just last week, a guy came in shot up in the shoulder. His white t-shirt and colors jacket had to be cut off of him so the club doc could stitch him up on our kitchen table – the same table we had breakfast at most mornings. I remember Maddie slipping in to get a glass of milk before her bedtime. It was if there wasn’t a guy having vodka and vicodin poured down his throat so Doc could stitch him up.
I clear my throat before reassuring Maddie that her teacher was still on her side, “Tomorrow, I’m gonna walk you into your new classroom. Michelle – I mean Miss Springer – is gonna send your homework there. If you’re good for the rest of the quarter with no more fights, no more cursing, you’re gonna be back in there. You think you can handle that?”
Maddie lights up, her eyes beaming with hope. “Fuck yeah!” She looks distraught as she catches herself, “Oh – shit – I mean, heck yeah!”
I glance at the clock over her shoulder as I hear the commotion coming from the club’s meeting space. I’m running late. I tell Maddie to head upstairs and find Miranda, the maid in charge of her tonight, and head down to the basement where the club’s members have assembled.
The Devil’s Mustangs are all sitting around at the circular tables, chatting lowly. It’s been a long week for almost everyone. Routes are being blocked, members are being attacked out in the open, and territory is falling to the Coyotes almost every day. And I can tell by how our leader, President Jager, is reacting that money ain’t flowing like it’s supposed to be. When money don’t come, Jager and the rest get anxious. There’s no such thing as a broke motorcycle club.
I take my seat next to Red Dog as he whispers over to Ace, “Fuck that, man! We need some action. We need to punish those little pricks for taking what’s ours. We’ve been on this beat for over 20 years, and now we’re just gonna let ‘em take our blow and our customers? That’s freakin’ crazy.”
“I’ve been here a lot longer than you have, man, and I know that this is just part of the game. Jager’s got a plan, and it’s gonna be good.”
“You better hope it is.” He leans in, eying the rest of the table as he says it, “If not, I hear the young guns are calling for mutiny, and all us old timers, the loyalists, we’re gonna be gone fast. Ain’t no stopping that kind of change.”
I roll my eyes. It’s like Ace said – these shifts of power is just part of the game. You win some, you lose some. And Jager’s been good to us for the last ten years. He knows this club and the Coyotes like the back of his hands, and he runs our blow enterprise like a CEO at a Fortune 500 company. And if it’s really in trouble, he’d snuff it out quick.
But there is a small part of me that wants what Red Dog is antsy for to come true. I want blood. Lots of it. The Coyotes aren’t just our club’s mortal rivals; they’re the assholes that killed the mother of my daughter. They shot her tire right in front of me in retaliation for me shooting into their clubhouse the night before. They’re the ones that made me a single father, raising my daughter in a club with no help. They’re the ones that took my April away.
Jager, with his leather jacket bursting with club patches and his receding hair is hidden behind a black leather baseball cap. His hands smooth out his thick black mustache before he speaks, his loud, grizzly voice cutting through the room’s noise. “This meeting is coming to order. Y’all know why we called you here. The Coyote’s been raiding our drop spots, intimidating and threatening our dealers, and two of our shippers are moving to the Coyotes in return for their protection.”
The room shifts uneasily as the rest of the men slowly heat up. Hearing it from Jager makes it real. They lean in as he continues, “Now, normally I’d say this is to be expected. We can’t keep all our territory all the time. But now there’s been blood. Tommy T was shot in the shoulder. Red Dog got cut at the Earwig Bar. Hunter’s been missing since Tuesday. Their blood requires retribution.”
Jager slams his fist onto the table before him as he looks every man in the eyes. It’s his trademark, the one that gets everyone of us riled up. Looking him in the eye is like staring death in the face.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna need some recon, and we’re gonna need to find Hunter. Red Dog and Cal are leading this one. You take orders from them. In the meantime, everyone else is gonna double up in their runs. Recruits gonna ride lead with runners and one enforcer. You get yourself in trouble, you got my go ahead to do what you need to do to hold the territory. And if anything goes bad, you call Cal so he can report back to me. You all hear me?”
A terrible, low cry rises up around the room as the men get pumped at the idea of vengeance. Jager asks in a shout, “Are you with me, Mustangs?” Again, the shouts as the men get to their feet. “Then we ride!”
Everyone, including me, is standing, shouting. Our war cry is going up as we take arms. Red Dog runs towards the room in the back and pulls out his an armful of armor – 3 large shotguns and at least 6 handguns. He throws an ammo belt around a man’s neck and then hands one of his lower enforcers a gun. He circles the tables, handing out his wares.
When he gets to me, Jager is on his side. He hands me a large handgun and a box of bullets. I place the bullet into the magazine and then click it in place. The weight of the gun feels heavier these days as I think of Maddie and Maddie’s mom. One who I will give my life to avenge. The other who I will give anything to live for. I know more than anyone else in the room that one bullet can change anything. And for these rookies, these road virgins, it could mean that difference between life and death, especially when war is coming.
And today, war with between the Devil’s Mustangs and the Coyotes is at our doorstep. I just gotta hope that I can get the recon, find the missing Mustang, and get the hell home for my daughter.