Chapter Twenty-Five
Van
Even though I’d rather head home, I go straight from the jail to Tito’s house. I know I should feel at least a hint of regret, telling my mother that she no longer has a home or protection of the club. She has fucked up too many times for me to feel much at all when it comes to her, though. All I feel right now is happiness at the thought of her finally being out of my life.
As I pull up to the stop sign down the street from Tito’s, I see a bike pulling out of the driveway. From this distance, it’s hard to tell much about the bike, but something about it looks familiar. Knowing my mother, there’s no telling who she’s spreading her legs for. Hope like fuck it isn’t one of my brothers.
Pulling into the driveway, I park beside the porch and climb off my bike. I drag out my phone and send a text to Taz and Walker, letting them know they are needed at Tito’s house and to bring the box truck and a few prospects. Hopefully, they can get her ass out of here before dark. I don’t wait for a response, knowing they will head my way, no questions asked.
Walking up to the front door, I can smell the tangy scent of weed coming from inside. Whoever she had here with her, he at least had some good weed. She better hope he has a good house, too, because she’s going to need somewhere to stay tonight. If not, her ass is going to be living out of a cheap hotel.
Pounding a couple of times on the door, I wait for her to come answer it. I normally wouldn’t bother knocking on the door, seeing as it was my home, but I’m not taking the chance that she is still undressed. No way I want to walk in and see that. She keeps me waiting, so I pound a little harder the second time. When she opens the door wearing a robe and sees it’s me, the smile she has on her face disappears.
“I didn’t expect to see you around here. Ain’t you got a whore at home to take care of?” she says in a bitchy voice, tightening her robe.
My hand balls into a fist, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have in me not to punch in her fucking face. “No, my woman is fine. You’re the only whore I have to take care of today.”
Confusion crosses her face as she tries to figure out what I’m talking about. I don’t give her time to question me before walking inside and looking at the living room. The place is a fucking mess. Discarded clothes are scattered all over the floor, while beer cans and empty takeout containers cover every table in the room. I walk through the house, seeing each room is just as bad as the last. Even the scent of really killer weed isn’t enough to kill the smell of the filth surrounding me.
“What are you doing?” she asks in a shout, just as I start to climb the stairs.
“You have two hours to get what you want to keep and get the fuck out of Tito’s house. You’re no longer welcome here, at my house, or at any club-owned properties.”
She starts shouting questions, but I ignore them and walk straight to her room. Pushing the door open, I see her old lady’s cut hanging on the hook on the closet door. I walk over and grab it. She tries to pull it out my hand, but I ignore her and stomp back down the stairs.
Unable to stand the funk of the house a moment longer, I step onto the porch and pull out my switchblade. I make quick work of the stitches holding on her old lady’s patch, with her screaming the entire time. I continue ignoring her as I move my knife to Tito’s property patch. His patch goes into my pocket, hoping he will find someone better to give it to, while her old lady’s patch is fisted in my free hand.
“Van, what the fuck are you thinking?” she screams, trying to pull her plain black vest from my hand.
I let her have it, knowing it’s nothing more than a piece of leather now. I walk into the yard and pull out my lighter. I run the flame under the patch until it catches, then let it burn until the flames nip at my finger, and I drop it to the ground.
After watching it turn to ash, I look back at her. “The boys will be here soon to load you up. You better get packing. Taz and Walker will be here in a few minutes to make sure you don’t take what’s not yours.”
She has a look of fear on her face as she stutters on her words. “What the hell are you talking about now?”
“What do you think I mean?” I cock my brow at her, wondering if she really is as fucking stupid as she sounds. “I told you. Fuck, everyone told you, but you just wouldn’t listen. You have pulled your shit for the last time. You’re no longer Riot.”
“Tito wouldn’t let you do this,” she says, her voice filled with condescension. “When he finds out about this, you will be the one losing your cut.”
Hearing that she thinks Tito gives a rat’s ass what happens to her causes me to laugh. I’m always surprised at how blind a person can be, and my mother is obviously the blindest of all. Tito quit giving a shit about her a long time ago, if he ever cared at all.
“Who do you think sent me on this little errand?” I ask, seeing the finality of my words hit her full force.
Her voice fills with fear as she asks, “What am I supposed to do now?”
“As of five minutes ago, you aren’t part of my club anymore, so that is no longer any of my fucking business,” I say with a carefree shrug.
The look of fear is replaced with anger as I push past her and walk back into the house. She attempts to grab me by the arm, but there’s no way I’m letting her fucking hands anywhere near me. Grabbing her hand midway, I squeeze it hard enough to let her know that I’m not fucking around then sling it away.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I warn in a deadly voice and keep walking back into the house.
Taking a closer look at things, I see a baggie of coke lying on the table. I walk over and slide it into my pocket then start digging for the rest of her stash. No doubt, the bitch has been spending money on this shit. No fucking way is she taking it with her.
Knowing her like the back of my hand, I walk over to the television and run my hand over the back of the TV stand. When I feel what I am looking for, I pull out the old metal lunchbox she has kept her stash in forever. Opening it, I can’t believe how much shit she has.
“That’s mine!” she shouts, trying to pull it out of my hand.
I slam it closed and shake my head. “I must not have made this clear enough for you, but you aren’t taking shit but your clothes and the furniture in your bedroom.”
When Mom moved in with Tito, she brought the bedroom set my father bought her. As far as I know, that is the only fucking thing she has ever brought into this house. She sure in the fuck did not work to buy anything else.
“You can’t just kick me out. Where the hell will I go?” she shouts, not getting a response from me. “Do you not care about your own mother? Are you really going to leave me to live on the street?”
The sound of approaching bikes keeps me from having to answer her. I leave her screaming and head back to the door. My eyes are glued on Taz and Walker as they come to a stop and park right beside my bike. When I look down the road, I see the box truck only a minute behind them.
I stay quiet until they both get to the porch. “She is no longer the Pres’ old lady, and she’s not part of Riot MC anymore either. Tito has eighty-sixed her for life.”
I hear my mother’s gasp from behind me, but I ignore it and start issuing orders. “She has two hours to pack. You two need to make sure she doesn’t take anything that isn’t hers. She gets her clothes and the furniture in her bedroom, but not a fucking thing else.”
“No problem, brother,” Taz answers, sending a sneer in my mother’s direction.
Like Brass, Taz fucking hates her. The bitch actually had the balls to tell Tito that she didn’t want Taz around her, said his blind eye freaked her out. Of course, she did this in front of the whole fucking club, even Taz. I thought Tito was going to strangle her, but Taz stopped him, saying he was okay. He said he wasn’t too happy about having to be around her either; crazy cunts have always freaked him out.
Walker walks up and places a hand on my shoulder. “This is one order that I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of following.”
I look at him, surprised by his words. Where nearly every one of my brothers has talked shit about Mom, Walker has never said a word about her. I guess, not saying anything was his way of letting me know how he really felt.
When I see the box truck come to a stop and a few prospects pile out, I look to my brothers. “I’m out. Make sure someone changes the locks before y’all leave. If you have any issues, let me know.”
Before I can even step off the porch, my mother’s fingernails are cutting into my arms. She is saying something, but I can’t make out the words through the red haze of anger filling me. I take a deep breath, trying to keep from snapping her fucking neck and try to pull away. She just latches on deeper, digging her nails deep into my skin.
“Is this because of Veronica? It is, isn’t it? I’m losing everything because of her,” she says, her voice filled with panic. “I’ll be nice to her, I swear. Just give me one more chance. I’ll treat her good, never say another bad thing to her.”
“No, you won’t,” I mumble, knowing her words are nothing but lies.
“I promise, Van,” she pleads, begging for me to give in.
I try to pull away once more, not willing to waste my breath on talking to her. When that doesn’t work, something inside me snaps. Without even thinking, I reach up with my free arm and wrap my fingers around the bitch’s throat. Walking backward, I slam her up against the wall, keeping my eyes glued to hers.
“Didn’t I already tell you to keep your fucking hands off me, woman?” I ask, my voice filled with menace.
When she tries to nod her head, my fingers get tighter. I stare at her, watching her face turn a deep shade of red. My eyes stay latched on her as the red turns to blue. Her eyes start to dim, and something deep inside of me is enjoying watching the life drain out of her.
“If you don’t let up, brother, you’re gonna kill her. If you want her to live, you may want to consider loosening your hold at least a bit,” Walker says, sounding like he couldn’t give a fuck either way.
His words have me loosening my hold. I finally let go, letting her fall into a heap near my feet. My eyes stay trained on her while she gasps and attempts to pull in deep breaths of life-saving air. When she finally fills her lungs, she looks up at me with pure fear covering her face.
“You’re lucky I let you live. Tomorrow, you may not be so lucky. I suggest you get the fuck out of town. You’ll stay away if you know what’s good for you.” I give her a look filled with pure hate. “Goodbye, Kendra.”
I walk away with a smile on my face, knowing I will never have to see that bitch again.