Cholo

I pulled into the shop and parked the bike about twenty feet from the bench where they were gathered. After I pulled on my hat, Crip gave me a nod.

“You look like the cat that ate the fucking canary,” he said. “What gives?”

I got off the bike, steadied myself, and shrugged. “Just in a good mood.”

He glanced at Pee Bee and Smokey, and eventually looked at me again, grinning as he did so. “Well, maybe here in a minute you’ll be in a better one.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Had a meeting last night.”

“Who had a meeting last night?”

“The club.”

I shot him a confused look. “Didn’t hear about no fucking meeting.”

He chuckled. “Hope not. You weren’t invited.”

I wondered what in the fuck the club needed to meet about that didn’t involve me, and grew so angry I had to turn away. After walking half the distance to my bike, I turned around.

“What? I don’t give enough? I got strapped to a table and burned with a fucking blow torch, motherfucker,” I said through my teeth. “And, I didn’t say one fucking word. Not one. Cock sucker took a pair of pliers and ripped my teeth out until I damned near bled to death. Did he get anything out of me?”

He didn’t respond.

“Fuck no, he didn’t,” I growled.

He turned around and walked toward the work bench.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m fucking mad, Crip. What was the fucking meeting about?”

He turned around, and tossed a black duffel bag at my feet. It landed with a heavy thud.

“It was about that,” he said, motioning toward the duffel bag.

I looked at it, and then at him. “What is it?”

“It’s a couple Calle 18 heads. We killed a few more of ‘em last night. I put their heads in that bag. Open it up.”

Reluctantly I reached for the bag’s zipper. After taking a deep breath, I pulled it open. Stacks of banded money filled the bag to the top. My eyes slowly widened.

“Holy shit,” I said. “How much is it?”

“That? That’s part of it. After what I got from Lefty’s and what Tree Top got from the other place, we had quite a bit.”

I took another look, and then zipped the bag. After checking over each shoulder I attempted to kick the bag toward him, but failed miserably, almost falling on my ass in the process.

“So, what was the meeting about?” I asked, feeling like I got an incomplete answer the first time.

“Trying to decide what to do with the money,” he said.

I nodded. “And why wasn’t I here?”

“I needed to get answers without you mean-mugging the fellas into submission.”

I envisioned a new shop with lifts, a paint booth, and a soda machine that was filled with beer.

“What did they say?”

“Hell, I would have settled for 51%,” he said. “But the club voted, and it was unanimous.”

“What’d they decide?”

“Decided that bag in front of you is yours, Brother.”

My heart raced, but I knew it was a joke. There had to be well over a hundred grand in the bag. That amount of money would get me so close to buying a house I could taste it.

“What’d they really decide?” I asked.

Pee Bee cleared his throat. “Club voted, Cholo. Decided the men who took the risks get the reward. Men who risked it in this was the eleven that went and got those girls out, and then me and Crip coming to get you, and then all of us going to Lefty’s shop. That’s what they decided. That’s your cut.”

I looked at Crip. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “It’s yours, Brother. Can’t argue with a unanimous vote.”

He was right. The bylaws were clear.

But, I had to know.

“How. How uhhm. How much is it?”

“Your cut?” he asked.

I nodded.

“That’s $980,000, give or take. We were here half the fucking night counting it.”

It didn’t make sense. I looked at the bag, and then at each of them.

“Was about $1,200,000 total. Man who risked the most got paid the most. Each of us got $20,000. There’s eleven of us.” He walked toward me. When he reached me, he patted me on the shoulder. “And Brother, there’s only one of you. Appreciate ya, Cholo. You’re one tough son-of-a-filthy-fucking-bitch.”

My heart was in my throat. I swallowed hard, looked down at the bag, and held my gaze. I couldn’t look up. I’d been through way too much, and the emotion was getting to me.

“It’s…It’s uhhm. That’s mine? No shit?”

He patted me on the shoulder again. “Sure is. Keep it somewhere safe and spend it wisely.”

I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth and nodded. “I’ll do it, Brother.”

“I’ll help you get it loaded up,” he said.

I followed him to my bike, and finally overcame my emotions enough to speak.

“I uhhm. I’d like to. I’d like to give some of it to those fellas that came and saved me, Brother? The other guys.”

He barked out a laugh. “My brothers from another mother?”

I nodded. I owed my life to them, that much was sure.

He shook his head. “They don’t do it for money, or for fame,” he said. “They do it for the same reason we do. For the brotherhood.”

“But…”

He shook his head. “We’ll all go out and have a beer, how’s that?”

As he split up the money and loaded equal amounts into each saddlebag, I nodded. To understand the level of commitment those men had, all I needed to do was look in the mirror.

I had gained enough self-worth to know the man looking back at me was one exceptional human being.