Scandinavian Variation of Louis: Lothar
➸ Glitch ★
Rusty Cage has been the club’s meeting spot since I was a boy. On Saturdays, I rode my bike past the bar and imagined a day when I’d trade in my BMX for a Harley. Back then, the club president was a mean old fucker named Cell. I’d see him around town checking in with his handful of girlfriends. I thought Cell was the baddest badass, and I wanted to be just like him.
Those days are gone, and not only because Cell’s dead and buried. I don’t know exactly when I lost respect for the man. I never have one big moment that ruins shit for me. Love or hate always build gradually until one day I know where I stand even if I didn’t know how I got to that point.
My craziness over Clove hit me hard and fast—just the way she likes it. My obsession with her, though, grew slow and steady—she likes that too. I loved her before we left for Little Memphis, but the craziness of that love has grown in the week since we returned. Her clinginess gave me a chance to prove my worth to a woman accustomed to surviving on her own.
Unfortunately, I can’t spend all night with her because I have a club meeting. Of course, Oz is the last guy to arrive at Rusty Cage. First, I’m joined by Blackjack and Camo who ride over together.
“I don’t know who designs cribs,” Camo says, sitting in his chair with a thump, “but they must be fucking scientists because those bastards are harder than a constipated shit to put together.”
When I only frown, Blackjack mutters, “Bay asked if we’d put together the crib.”
“I can’t believe the first crew baby born in Rawlins is nearly here,” I say.
“Naw, she’s got a few more months at least,” Blackjack says and then looks up when Vile and Devo enter the back room.
The older guys give us grumpy smiles, clearly unhappy to be here. I heard Vile’s kid has the flu and it spread to his woman. I don’t particularly want to be in the proximity of his germy ass, but Oz made the meeting mandatory.
Everyone orders their beers and fills up on peanuts while waiting for Oz.
“Punctual, he is not,” Blackjack says.
Like clockwork, Oz bursts through the front door as if someone’s chasing his ass. He waves for the waitress to bring him a beer. Once everyone has their shit, he shuts the back room’s door and sits in a huff.
“There’s a guy holed-up in a cabin about ten miles away from the Silver Swan castle,” Oz announces in his rough voice. “The fucker’s dug in like a tick on a mutt’s ass. I want him dead before winter ends and the melting snow makes it easier for him to get down to Rawlins. Anyone feel like trekking up to his territory to take him out?”
“Want to explain why he’s wearing a target?” I ask.
“It’s Janx Baylor.”
The name rolls around in my head for nearly a minute before I put a face and story with it. Janx was a member of the Heretics back in the day. Then he got drunk off his ass, shot three people in a bar, and ended up in prison. While there, he got pissed at a few old friends and ratted them out to the cops. Janx didn’t even get a deal in exchange for his info. He just wanted to cause trouble. The only reason he didn’t rat out the club was Cell’s connection to Janx’s sister.
“I didn’t know he was out,” Blackjack says, sounding pissed like he expected to get a postcard from the asshole.
“He got paroled early for good behavior.”
Camo asks, “Good behavior?”
“He probably snitched on fellow inmates to get time taken off,” Oz mutters. “That’s Janx’s M.O. now. No loyalty.”
“He was a club man. Are you saying he isn’t anymore?” Devo asks and glances at Vile. “Removing a member isn’t something done on the fly.”
“Says who?” Oz growls. “Is that rule in a handbook or some shit?”
“I was just asking.”
“No, you were implying I need to ask your permission to get rid of trouble.”
Devo adjusts in his chair as if ready to throw punches. “Janx was one of us. Came up with me and Vile. The man had our backs. So excuse the fuck out of me for not wanting to put a bullet in his brain.”
Vile nods nearby, wanting to chime in, but he won’t speak up. The man’s been on edge since little Yarrow threatened to gut his brat kid back before Halloween. Vile remained scarce through the holidays. Even now, he doesn’t really want to be around the rest of us.
Oz chugs half his beer before spitting out, “Janx sent me a message around Christmas, saying he wanted to make a deal. I could give him the club, or I needed to pay him to let me keep it.”
“Pay him what?” I ask.
“Money and a woman. He says he gets lonely up in the cabin and he wants a kickback from our activities. Claims we only have the money because he didn’t snitch on the club. We owe him basically, so we need to reward his silence.”
I try to picture Janx up in the hills, living in a shitty cabin and making his threats. “What happens if you don’t pay?” I ask. “Is his big plan to snitch?”
Blackjack leans back and nods. “The asshole hasn’t been in the club since Cell’s days. What info does he have to offer the cops? Not like his fucking word would be enough.”
“If he wants women and money, how come he doesn’t return to the club instead of pulling this bullshit move?” Camo asks like a typical good-looking young guy without a care in the damn world.
“He doesn’t want to be in the club. He wants to run the club,” Oz growls.
“Maybe he should,” I say, fighting a smile. “He’s older and uglier. We might need that kind of energy running shit.”
“Without a doubt, he’ll make you cut your hair,” Oz says, smiling for the first time since arriving.
Laughing, I give my hair a tug and nod. “I get that level of jealousy from men a lot.”
“Can we fucking concentrate?” Vile says, finally finding his voice. “Sending someone into the woods after Janx isn’t a simple deal. He knows how to defend a location.”
Devo nods immediately. “Might be easier to give him what he wants until spring. By then, hiking the woods won’t be such a dangerous fucking chore.”
“Are you willing to give him your woman, Devo? Because he doesn’t want just any fox. He mentioned Ginger. Mentioned the other foxes by name. Mentioned your girl too, Vile. He isn’t looking to be a team player. He wants us to submit, or he claims he’ll take out the club.”
“By snitching?”
“Or walking into the Rusty Cage and shooting us while we’re enjoying beers,” Oz says and everyone instinctively looks to the door. “Or he might take out one of the crew while they’re at the store. How the fuck would I know? Janx has a death wish, but before he dies, he wants to make others suffer too. And that’s why we’re not fucking paying him or playing his games. It’s why we won’t convince him to be our fucking pal. It’s why he needs to die. We all know he didn’t snitch on the club because Cell had a gun to Janx’s sister’s head for years. Now the only question is who will put the bullet in him.”
My gaze flashes to Vile and Devo. Back in the day, they were guys I looked up to while Oz was the guy I wanted to hang out with. Never did I think of Oz as president material. He was as young as me and had kids and was too much of a mama’s boy. When Cell went down, I thought one of the older guys would step up.
Now I get the weird urge to kill both men. I smell disloyalty in their demeanor, and any threat to the club needs to be squashed. Shaking my head, I realize I’m fantasizing about killing my brothers. These two men have known me since I was old enough to vote. They got me beers when I couldn’t buy them for myself. I should love them like family, but something changed in the club after Cell went down and we lost most of our members.
These days, we’re a family struggling to stay together after a painful divorce. Devo and Vile can’t let go of their nostalgia for the good old days with Cell and Janx. Oz only has eyes for a future when he’ll have the numbers to leave behind non-believers like these old men.