The sun burned bright on the day of the Sacks County Annual Picnic. The Rabid Dog MC was out in full force to support the community—it was a tradition for us to donate a sizable contribution and cook the food every year. The Rabid Dogs sometimes got a bad rap for being murderers and thieves and this was the one time of the year we could talk with people face-to-face and change their perceptions.
Big Mike was on the grill cooking burgers, hot dogs, and chicken. He was a fucking giant man and the Sgt-at-Arms in the club. If we ever needed to get out of a sticky situation, Big Mike was ready and willing with no questions asked. He wasn't the smartest tool in the shed but he was extremely effective at his job.
“You're going to burn those patties if you don't flip them,” I told him, patting him on the back.
Big Mike turned towards me and showed off his brand new apron that said: Grillmaster. He pointed the spatula at my face. “Don't fuck with the Grillmaster.”
I put my hands up to surrender and bowed. “By all means, Grillmaster, carry on.”
A light blue Frisbee came spiraling out of nowhere and narrowly missed my head. A bunch of kids came running over and froze in their tracks when they saw my leather cut and menacing Rabid Dog spider on the back.
I smiled and picked up the Frisbee. “Go long,” I announced, throwing the disc as far as I could.
“Thank you,” the children screamed in unison, running away. The town was afraid of us and we needed to fix that. The Rabid Dog MC didn't hurt innocents. We kept the streets clean of rapists and pedophiles—we did the dirty work that Sheriff Mendoza couldn't do.
I walked over to Leland and Constance sitting on a picnic blanket on the grass. The scene was right out of a movie. “You two look like a lovely couple,” I said.
Leland grinned and stood up to embrace me. “How's it going, Veep?”
Constance strained to stand and I stopped her, helping her back to the ground. “No no, lady. You stay off your feet.”
Constance waved my hand away and stood up, holding her swelling belly. “I don't need your help yet, Sawyer. Another few months and you guys might need a crane to carry me to the hospital.”
“Thought of a name yet?” I asked.
Constance looked at Leland and smiled. It was clear she loved him dearly. “We were thinking of Isaac.”
My heart warmed at the name and my eyes began to water. Isaac was the MC Treasurer until he was tragically gunned down last year. I watched him die in Leland's arms. It was a hard time for the MC but things were beginning to look better. “I think that name would be perfect,” I replied, taking Constance's hands. “Congratulations, and Leland, don't fuck this up.”
Leland narrowed his eyes at me and laughed. “You don't have to worry, Constance will kill me if I mess this up.”
Constance threw a glance at Leland and ran her finger across her throat.
I left them laughing and wondered how Leland could ever be happy in a relationship. Like most of the other MC members, our relationships were limited to one-night stands and prostitution. I fucked a different girl every night. Fuck and Forget—that was the MC motto. Leland should've remembered that.
I stopped under the shade of trees and rested against the trunk. Big Mike was serving food to a long line of hungry people. Slade was hitting on a set of blonde twins with big fake tits next to the playground. His long dark hair made him look like he was from a 80's Metal band but the chicks loved it.
“Nice day out, eh, Sawyer?” I turned around to find Cole approaching me. The gray in his hair was more and more evident as time passed. His horn-rimmed glasses made him look a lot less menacing than he really was. Cole was like a father to us all and I'd follow him to the depths of hell if he asked me to.
I looked over at the same kids throwing the Frisbee around. “Remember those carefree days, Prez?”
Cole leaned against the tree trunk with me and watched the kids scream and run around. “When I was a kid, my father put me to work everyday at the construction site. I don't think I've ever experienced a carefree day. That's actually why I need to talk to you.”
I shifted towards him and tuned out all the other noise. “What's up, Cole?”
The wrinkles on his face showed off his age. Cole had seen a lot as President of the Rabid Dog MC. As Vice-President, it was my duty to second-guess him and offer alternative solutions. But that didn't happen often with Cole. He always made the right decision.
Cole stared off into the distance. “I've been doing this a long time, Sawyer. Way too long. I started the Rabid Dog MC with my friends to escape my father. Now all those friends are either dead or moved on. I'm the only one left of the originals.”
I didn't like where he was heading. The somber tone of his voice and the sadness in his eyes. He had been thinking about this for a long time.
“It's time I hang up my hat, Sawyer. I want to know what a carefree day is like. I can't be the Rabid Dog President anymore.”
All the blood drained from my face. Everything was going to fall apart without him. The end of an era. How could we go on? “But you can't quit, Cole. Rabid Dog is in your blood.”
“And it always will be.” Cole grit his teeth and took a deep breath to keep from crying. “I'm recommending you become the new President.”
My jaw dropped to the floor. I never even dreamed of becoming President. I always pictured Cole leading us into battle and us coming home victorious. There was no way I could fill his shoes. “I don't know if I'm ready for that, Cole.”
Cole put both hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “You're ready. You've been ready for years. The MC needs someone who is smart and strong. Someone who can carry them through the tough times. That someone is you, Sawyer. After what happened with Isaac...I can't go through that again.”
I gulped and nodded. I couldn't believe this was happening. My whole life was about to change. Could I really lead the Rabid Dogs?
Cole brushed off my leather cut. “We can make the transition official later. Enjoy the day and I'll see you back at the clubhouse.”
I grabbed his hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you so much.” There was so much more I wanted to tell him. How he was my hero and a father to me. But I couldn't get the words out.
Slade walked up to us. “Sorry to interrupt but we have a small problem.”
Cole winked at me. “Good luck,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets and strolling away, whistling a tune. That son of a bitch.
Slade looked confused. “Where's he going?”
“What's the small problem?” I asked, ignoring his question.
Slade turned my head and pointed off to the far edge of the park at a gaunt man dressed in rags, smoking on a cigarette. A thin wispy beard went down to his chest and the hair on his head was disheveled. He didn't even have to tell me who it was—Lil' Johnny was unforgettable. He was never supposed to set foot back in Sacks County.
“Let's go take care of this,” I said.
Slade smiled and cracked his knuckles.
“But quietly,” I added.
Slade nodded and we walked a wide arc around the park until we came up behind Lil' Johnny.
“What are you doing here?” I asked in a deep voice.
Lil' Johnny spun around and almost swallowed his cigarette when he saw me. “Oh Sawyer, I've been looking all over for you.”
Slade came between us and drove his fist into Johnny's stomach. The frail man doubled over and coughed up a lung. We carried him to the men's bathroom and Slade punched him one more time while I checked that all the stalls were clear.
I grabbed Johnny's hair and pulled his head back. “What are you doing here, Johnny? We told you if you ever set foot in Sacks County again, we'd put your head on a pike.”
Lil' Johnny continued to cough, trying to catch his breath.
I pulled my black G20 Glock from behind my waistband and waved it in front of Johnny's face. “I'm not a very patient man, Johnny.” Slade nodded in agreement.
“I have some information for you,” he choked out, whimpering at the sight of the gun.
“What could you possibly know?”
Lil' Johnny's eyes darted left and right. “I heard something about The Death Merchants MC.”
My curiosity was piqued. The Death Merchants MC were the Mexicans who ran the east side of town. The Blacks owned the middle and acted like a barrier to the Mexicans. We rarely had to deal with them. “Tell us what you know or else I'll let Slade loose.”
Slade was slobbering at the mouth. There was a good chance he had rabies. He lifted Johnny to his feet and let him go. “Spill it.”
Johnny held his side and began, “I was minding my own business outside the laundromat when I heard two Mexicans talking about arming up. I followed them and listened in on their conversation. They're arming up to finally take out the Rabid Dog MC so they can rule the west.”
I kicked Lil' Johnny in the shin and he fell to the ground, groaning and holding his leg. “Why should we believe a bullshit story like that? Especially when it's coming from you.” I put the tip of my pistol against his temple. “Give me one good reason I shouldn't pull the trigger.”
Johnny pissed himself and tears streamed down his face. This happened way too often. At least we were in a bathroom already. “I'm telling the truth, Sawyer. I swear it.”
Lil' Johnny was the scum of the earth but he wouldn't be able to come up with a lie like that on his own. I pulled the gun away and holstered it back behind my back. “Slade, try and contact our Black brothers and see if his story checks out.”
Johnny got on his knees, his pants soaking in urine. “Does this mean I can stay in Sacks County?”
“For now. But if we find out you're lying. There's worse things we could do than killing you.”
Lil' Johnny's eyes widened and he bent down and kissed my boots. “Thank you so much, Sawyer.”
I kicked him away and left the bathroom with Slade. “You really think he's telling the truth?” Slade asked.
“Probably not but we need to know for sure. If the Mexicans want war, we'll give em' one.”