Eagle

“I don’t like the idea of you going to that memorial service, Eagle.” Tonsils is pacing back and forth in the conference room where we hold church. “Wait.” He holds up a hand to stop me from talking before he’s done complaining. “Even if we’re with you, it only takes one bullet to kill someone.”

“I do it out of obligation, out of respect for Angel’s memory,” I remind him.

“I get it.” He sits across from me and folds his hands on the table. “We all loved that girl. Let Belle organize something here. We’ll invite anyone you want. Even her mother. We’ll party all night and then ride to the cemetery in the morning.”

Fuck that. Give Bear an excuse to question my bravery? My loyalty to his little sister? “I attend every year, so no matter what you say, Tonsils, I’m going.”

He shakes his head. “Things are different now. We’re growing, squeezing the Dead Dogs out. The only way you’re attending is with a ten-man escort packing heat.”

“Fine.”

“Me included.”

“No.” I shoot up from my chair. “Check the bylaws, brother. A president and his vice can’t attend any function together if there’s a risk of both of them getting hurt. One of us needs to be here. If something happens to me, you take over.”

“You can’t expect me to stay behind.”

“I do.”

“Goddamnit, Caleb. This isn’t a pissing match. Bear wants you dead. Remember? You left his big brother lying in a pool of blood in a warehouse. That shit never goes away. Neutral territory or not.”

“My first loyalty is to this club. You stay.”

“I call for a vote.”

The only way to override a decision I make is to veto it with a majority vote by patched members. I’ve known Tonsils since I was twelve. He’s ten years older than I am. He used to visit me at home when my mother and father were in Baton Rouge for the state legislative season. The bonds run deep, but occasionally, I pull rank.

“This is personal, Tonsils. Give it a rest.”

“That’s the problem. I’m afraid the Dead Dogs are gonna give you a seaside gravesite. You’re not thinking straight. And because of it, I’m calling for a vote.”

I can’t remember the last time a brother has opposed one of my decisions. But as an officer of the charter, Tonsils has the right to demand a vote if he thinks one of the members or the club is in jeopardy. At this point, I’m too wrapped up in my own thoughts to really give a shit. Regardless of the outcome of the vote, I’m going to the memorial service. “Do whatever you think is right. Vote your conscience.” I stomp to the double doors and open them in a huff. “Jack.” I gesture to the closest brother in the living room. He looks up from the pool table. “Roll call. Five minutes.”

“Got it.” He drops his cue stick on the table and hurries away to let the other brothers know it’s time for church.

Minutes later, twenty of our members file into the spacious room and grab a seat at the long table. I wait patiently while everyone settles down.

“This meeting is officially open,” I announce, knocking my knuckles on the tabletop a couple of times. I’m in no mood to sit down, so I stand in the corner, waiting for Tonsils to make his point.

“Not sure how many of you are aware of where our prez is heading on Saturday.” He pauses for effect and glances at me. There’s some mumbling among the members. “Yeah, that’s right, Sam. To a memorial service sponsored by the Dead Dogs.”

Several brothers look at me like I’m a fucking lunatic. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I’ve struggled to let the memories of Angel fade. Making it through a day without thinking about her, well, it hasn’t happened yet. How are you supposed to ever forget someone like her? The love we shared? The immense respect I felt for her? No girl has ever earned that much admiration from me.

It took nearly three years after her death for me to pull my head out of my ass long enough to stay sober for a day. Before that, I left a trail of bitterness in my wake. Once I sobered up, the real pain set in. The loneliness you feel late at night in bed is one thing, it’s expected. What struck me the most was that I could be surrounded by my brothers and friends and still feel like I was the only man standing.

“For Angel,” I say. Let them protest that.

“She’s been gone a long time,” Sam observes.

“Not long enough to forget,” I say.

“We don’t want you to forget, Eagle. Just think clearly before you dive into something head first,” my vice says. “I told you how I feel. The Dead Dogs want you dead.”

“And I want Bear’s ass,” I fume. “He played a big role in Angel’s death. That motherfucker needs to die.” I punch the wall and ignore the pain that follows. “There’s no reason to drag this out. You know where I stand. I’ll give you a few minutes to discuss it. Let me know when you’re ready to take a vote.”

I storm out of the meeting, ready for a drink. My aunt owns one of the two bars in Holly Beach. I could go across the street and visit with her for a few minutes or make myself a drink at our well-stocked bar in here. I gaze around the empty space. Even the old ladies are gone.

It’s a no-brainer. I step outside and cross the street.

My Aunt Birdie is fifty-two and single. She’s owned The Cajun since I can remember. There’s a couple regulars sitting at the bar. They nod at me as I grab a stool on the opposite end. Birdie turns around from the register and smiles.

“Eagle.”

“Auntie.”

She gives me a sideways look. “What are you doing here in the middle of the afternoon?”

“Same old shit, different day.”

“Ah.” She reaches for a shot glass from the hanger above, then sets it on the wood bartop. It’s quickly filled with my favorite whiskey and pushed in front of me. “Tell me a story.”

“Once upon a time,” I start.

She pops me in the chest with the end of her bar towel. “Seriously?”

“I could start it with a tale of two houses . . .”

“Right. The Laramies and the Bakers. Your wealthy and connected father and your beautiful and born-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bayou mother.”

“Wrong story, wrong couple,” I say. “I fucked up.”

“How, sweetie?”

“Fell in love with a girl I knew didn’t have a chance in hell at a good life.”

She pats my hand, knowing who this is about. “Angel had a great life with you.”

“Two years,” I say, rage boiling inside me.

“Think what would have happened if she didn’t get those two happy years, Eagle. She would’ve been sold off to some piece of shit Dead Dog who raped and beat her. The two of you were meant to be together. Even if it was for a short time.”

I suck down the shot and gesture for a refill. “All the while, Mom and Dad stay away.”

“Come on, Caleb. Your father has no reason to come back to Holly Beach. Baton Rouge is home now. We didn’t exactly give them a reason to stay.”

Dad offered to buy Birdie’s bar so she could retire in comfort. He didn’t like his only sister-in-law tending bar. As for me, he gave me a choice. Quit the club or lose my family. I chose the better of the two.

“There’s a memorial service next Saturday at the cemetery. I want you to be there to honor Angel.”

“Of course.” She refills my glass, then gives my hand a squeeze. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Reading my mind again?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

I suck in a breath. “I met a girl.”

Stunned by the unexpected news, Birdie just stares at me.

“Not sure if it will go anywhere.”

“Don’t force it.”

“I’m sick of being alone.”

“We weren’t meant to be alone,” she says. “I miss your uncle every day.”

I know she does. Several men have proposed over the years, but my aunt doesn’t want that kind of commitment again. You can only say “I do” once, she tells me often. But she dates.

“What’s her name?”

“Serafina.”

“Italian?”

I nod. “Just like Angel.”

“Be careful. You can’t relive the past.”

“I wasn’t looking, Auntie.” I finish off the second shot, slap a ten-dollar bill on the bar, and blow her a kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

It’s been a good fifteen minutes since I left the clubhouse. If they haven’t made up their minds yet, I’ll make the decision for them. I return to the meeting room. Everyone quiets down as I claim my seat at the head of the table.

“Go ahead,” I direct our treasurer. “Count the votes.”

“All in favor of Eagle attending the memorial service, say aye,” Koma says. When he’s done scrawling a note on his pad of paper, he looks up. “All those opposed?”

I count three. “Looks like the ayes win.” I stand, satisfied with the outcome. “Pick the security detail for Saturday,” I tell Tonsils. “Ten.”

He frowns at me. It’s not the first time we’ve voted against each other. That’s the nature of being a member of this MC. You might not always agree, but you always have your brother’s back. Right or wrong, nothing can break that sacred bond.