At last reunited with Matt, Bruce couldn’t wait to leave Los Angeles. The thought of spending another hour in the same hotel suite where everything had transpired literally appalled him. His good friend obliged; he did not appear eager to continue their vacation, either.

In Bruce’s mind, the long ride back to Boston would feel even longer, as he believed that riding a Harley feels much better when one is in a good mood, like the one they were both in on Sunday night. The two friends had been through hell. They would recall certain events with horror. Bruce would have to find a way to mend his broken heart. At the time, it seemed like a mammoth task. Matt would have to recover from the psychological shock of his abduction, but hoped that putting in long hours at work would help him forget. Neither of them got much sleep on the three nights that they spent in cheap motels along the way.

Four days later, at dusk, Bruce and Matt arrived in Boston, exhausted and in dire need of a shower. Upon stepping out of the empty elevator on the third floor of his apartment building in Fenway though, Bruce was in for a surprise: Vincent had been waiting for him on his doorstep.

“The return of the prodigal son.” He said with a grin.

“Hey, Vincent.” Bruce chirped, crossing the narrow corridor that led to his apartment, with his blue suitcase in his hand. “What’s up? Have you missed me?”

“More than you can imagine.” Vincent winked at him, as Bruce put the key in the lock. “We need to talk.”

“I’m pretty beat.” He protested. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“Trust me, it won’t take long.” Vincent assured, as Bruce walked into his apartment.

“Alright. Have a seat.” He murmured, pointing at the beige armchair in his living room.

“Thanks.” Vincent said, obliging. Bruce took his suitcase in his bedroom and then joined him, sitting on the couch on the right of the armchair.

“First of all, I’m glad you didn’t take my advice.” Vincent spoke in his hoarse voice. “Matt told me about Howard’s daughter.”

“Actually, I should have, Vince.” Bruce disagreed. “You were right. Falling in love makes us softer.”

“That’s just bullshit, son. I only said that so that you guys could focus on club matters.” Vincent admitted. “Speaking of which, I talked to the guys. They want you back. So do I.”

“I’m sorry, brother…” Bruce croaked, shaking his head sideways. “But the answer is ‘no’. I’m legit now. I make good money. Why would I want to give that up?”

“No one asked you to do that.” Vincent lowered his tone. “You probably don’t know this, but I’ve been trying to move the club into more legitimate enterprises lately.”

“What?!” All of a sudden, Bruce’s voice turned into a high-pitched squeal. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No.” Vincent stated. “It’s a club decision. It was unanimous. The boys got tired of all the shit that had been going on since you left. Besides, we got the money from the trucks you stole. It’s fourteen mil. Your cut is waiting for you at the clubhouse.”

“And what shit is that?” Bruce asked, ignoring Vincent’s last sentence.

“Well, the feds were all over our asses for more than a year.” Vincent said with a sigh. “They kept pressing locals, asked them all kinds of questions. They took me for questioning three times. They came up with nothing. No one ratted.”

“That’s good to know.” Bruce commented. “What do you mean by ‘legitimate enterprises’?”

“Nothing is certain yet.” Vincent confessed. “Right now, we’re just studying our options. We’re torn, really. Some guys suggested running a porn website. Others want to start an electronics store. I like both those ideas.”

“Porn?” Bruce squinted at him.

“Right.”

“What do you need me for?” He inquired, unable to keep his voice down.

“Relax.” Vincent maintained his composure. “You can either work security on the studio, or, if you want to, you can drive the store truck.”

“You got me worried there.” Bruce laughed.

“What, you thought I was going to offer you a job as a porn star?” Vincent joked.

“Yeah.” Bruce chuckled.

“Anyway, think about it. Like I said, we’re not ready yet. The way things are moving, we won’t be ready before December.” Vincent said.

“I really like that.” Bruce confessed. “But what about my workshop?”

“It’s open all day, right?” Vincent inquired.

“Yeah.”

“Keep it. You can work there after 3pm, if you choose the driver’s job. No deliveries are done after that. Security clerks can work nights.” Vincent’s reply widened the smile on Bruce’s face. He was very intrigued indeed.

“I’ll think about it.” He nodded.

“Nice talking to you, son.” Vincent said with a grin, getting up from his seat. “Call me.” He continued, patting Bruce on the shoulder. Closing the door behind him, the aging biker left Bruce in a major dilemma.

“He’s right. Both those ideas sound pretty good. If those businesses grow, we could all make great money. Keeping the workshop sounds fantastic, too. I don’t want to leave it, especially after all the hard work I’ve put in. But, is the club really going to stay out of any illegal activities? I doubt that. Even if Vincent wants to quit running guns and mulling drugs, I don’t think they’ll let them. First, he needs to find other crews, greedy enough to want to replace the Sons. I don’t know if they’ll like the idea of being under the FBI’s microscope.”