August 2014
I WOKE WITH AN incessant pounding in my head. Shit, I needed to stop drinking so much. My mouth felt like a wad of cotton balls was shoved in it and tasted like the bottom of a dumpster, not that I really knew what that tasted like, but I could only fucking imagine. Damn.
The fucking pounding wouldn’t stop. I swore my head might explode until I realized someone was pounding at my door, causing the door to rattle on the hinges. I reach under my pillow for my pistol, flipping off the safety, as I heard shouting.
“Oh shut up, lady, like you can hear anything over that mariachi crap you have blaring anyway!” I heard come from the other side of the door. Jesus, that door must be fucking hollow. I quietly crept to the window, moving the curtain to the side an infinitesimal amount, allowing me just enough space to see who was banging on my door at this ungodly hour of the morning but not enough for them to know they were being observed. The bastard out there was good though, because no sooner had I moved the curtain, his head whipped toward the window.
“Colton! Colton, you motherfucker, open this fucking door! I know you’re in there, you bastard. Don’t fucking pretend you’re not.”
What the fuck? Who the hell knew me and knew I was here? Who was this rude-ass sonofabitch banging on my door, wearing some ratty jeans and a leather vest? My mind whirred, trying to think of who could be out there looking for me. I was about three seconds from planting a bullet in his stupid ass. My brain felt like mush and I couldn’t think straight. I slanted my view and noticed a bike parked next to mine in front of my place.
What?
“Colton! You fucking fuck. Come on, man! It’s Mason. Get your sorry ass up and open the fucking door. I don’t have all day, and this crazy Mexican lady next door is about to beat the shit out of me with her broom!”
Mason? What the fuck? He was supposed to be home with his family in Iowa. I unlocked the shitty-ass lock, which I was honestly surprised hadn’t just fucking popped open as hard as he was rattling the door with his pounding. I tucked my gun into the back of my waistband as he pushed his way in the door, surrounding me with a back-breaking bear hug.
“Goddamn, man, it’s good to see you! Don’t you ever answer your piece of shit phone, bro? I’ve been trying to call you for months. I was beginning to think maybe you fell off the face of the earth!” If only he knew how close to the truth he was, I thought with shame. “Dude, what the fuck? You look like shit, and what the fuck kind of rathole are you living in? Jesus H. Christ!” He stepped over to my kitchen area and leaned against the counter as I shut and locked the door after looking around outside and giving the nosy bitch next door a “fuck off” glare.
I went over to the fridge, opening it to notice the fucking bulb blew. Piece of shit. Glad I went to the store last night, or I wouldn’t have had anything to offer my old friend. “You want a beer, man?”
“The fuck? It’s like 0900, bro. I like a cold beer as well as the next guy, but shit, I like some breakfast food in my guts first.” He pushed past me to look in the fridge with me reaching for an apple out of the small bag I bought. He took a large bite, juice spraying out and running down his chin as he bit down. He wiped it off with the back of his hand as he happily chewed. The crunching echoed through my head, and I had to go sit down away from him.
I tossed down a pain pill, raised my ice-cold beer in salute to him, and took a swig. “Hair of the dog… Now what the fuck you doing down here? And what the fuck’s with the vest getup?” I took in his black leather vest with a patch that read “PROSPECT” and raised a brow, waiting for him to answer me as I let another swallow of cold beer trickle down my throat and settle in my guts.
“We trailered down here, picking up a bike we’re supposed to customize for some rich fuck. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for damn near three months, man. When they told me you had left the WTU and you were out, I was pissed ’cause you never fucking called me or anything, bro. So when, Snow, our Prez, needed a prospect to travel down here with Gunny, my sponsor, to pick up this bike, I volunteered. I’m a prospect for the Demented Sons now.” That fucker was smiling like the Cheshire cat. Truth be told, I had really missed his sorry ass. We had been through a lot of shit together, and we were probably closer than some actual blood brothers.
My head hung low because I knew I had been a straight-up shit with the way I cut him out after I left BAMC. I just didn’t feel like I was human enough to function, let alone be the friend he probably needed then. I still didn’t, and I really hoped he got on his bike and left soon. I just wanted to wallow in my misery alone. I was not the friend and partner he remembered. I was merely a vacant shell of that man.
“Dude. Colton, man, what have you got here? Anything? You got a woman around here or something?” Did I have a woman? Fuck. I hadn’t had any pussy since the night I left the WTU with all my worldly possessions crammed in my bike’s saddlebags. Truth be told, I couldn’t even fuck her because I kept seeing blonde hair and blue eyes in my head and the dumb bar whore I had picked up didn’t look anything like her. My angel was the last woman I had slept with. When I couldn’t keep it up no matter how much she messed around, she laughed in my face and told me to call her when I didn’t have such whiskey dick. I told her to fuck off and booted her out of my hotel room.
“Fuck no.” Didn’t want one either.
“Bro, ditch this shithole and come back with me. I’ve told Gunny all about you and everything we’ve been through, and he wants to meet you. He was in the Marine Corps—I try not to hold that against him.” He laughed. “I told him I wanted to bring you back with me if I could find you. I hoped maybe you could look at prospecting too, if it seems like a good fit for you and the club.” He seemed to get real serious as he looked down at the apple core that he’d been rolling in his fingers. “It was rough when I first got home, bro, I ain’t gonna lie. I felt fucking lost. Everything I’d known was gone, and there isn’t much call for a spotter in the civie’s world, you know?” He looked back up at me, and for a moment, I saw the same emptiness in his eyes that I felt to my very soul.
“Come on, bro, this is the brotherhood that I know you’ve been missing. With the club, we say what we mean and mean what we say, and we have each other’s backs. Always. I can’t leave you here like this. I love you, bro.”