Chapter Two
Van
As Brass and I head to the common room, the only thought on my mind is getting a shot of Jack Daniels and finding myself a willing woman to work out some of the stress I am carrying around. It has been one hell of a day, dealing with my daughter’s momma and all her drama. The bitch doesn’t give a shit about Cline. To her, our daughter is nothing more than a way to irritate the fuck out of me. To me, Cline is my life. I would do anything for my little girl, even deal with her crazy as hell mother.
“I need a drink,” I mumble as we walk down the hall.
Brass nods, one side of his lips tipping up. “More like ten.”
He’s right. I need a whole damn bottle. This shit is going to have to come to an end soon, or I’m gonna end up doing something stupid. I won’t be able to hold my shit together much longer. Then, I’ll kill the bitch. Knowing my temper, I won’t do it smart either. Fuck no! I’ll be messy and end up wearing prison orange for the rest of my life.
Just last week, she dragged my ass back to court, wanting more money. Not that I give a shit about the money; I just refuse to pay for her to live it up while she passes my little girl off to anyone who will watch her. Unless, of course, that person is me. She doesn’t want me seeing Cline at all. Fuck, I had to fight like hell just to get visitation rights. Being a biker can make shit like that nearly impossible.
Today, though, I finally won. Last week’s judge was able to see past my cut, to the man inside. More importantly, he was able to see past the Susie homemaker façade the bitch puts on. Instead of more money, she gets less. Even better, I get shared custody of Cline. She will stay at my house from Sunday to Sunday, then do the same the next week with the cunt that gave birth to her. It’s not perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the every-other-weekend visitation that I had.
Of course, when Regina found out, she was fucking loco. She showed up at my house to pick up Cline before I even had a chance to talk to my lawyer. The bitch shoved papers in my face and started screaming her fucking head off, not caring that our six-year-old daughter was there to see it all. I was too fucking happy to discover what the judge said to even listen to her complaints. I let every word she said roll off me until she slapped me across the face. Then, I lost my shit.
Like Tito taught me, I held back from paying her back in kind. Instead, I gave my daughter a quick kiss on the forehead then slammed the door in Regina’s face before letting my anger out on the wall. I may have broken a knuckle or two, and I’m still pissed as fuck, but at least I’m not sitting in a cell right now, losing any chance to see my daughter again.
“I could take the bitch out for you,” Brass offers for the hundredth time. “No one would ever find her body.”
As much as I’m tempted to give him the okay, I shake my head. “Not yet, brother. I’ll let you know if it comes to that.”
Ever since Regina started pulling her shit, Brass has been offering to get rid of her. Like me, he loves Cline with everything in him. He hates the shit her momma pulls and hates even worse that my little girl has to watch all the shit her momma does. He knows there isn’t a fucking thing I can do about it, not without getting my ass sent to prison and leaving my daughter without a father. He could do it, though, and no one would ever trace it back to him.
Passing by the Pres’s office, it sounds like he’s having a hell of a day, too. He and Mom are going at it. Even after all these years together, all they do is fight. The only thing that surprises me is the fact her ass is even at the clubhouse. She never comes here. She used to, but Tito put a stop to that a long damn time ago.
Hell, they haven’t lived together in years. He stays here at the clubhouse, and she stays at his house, only coming by every now and then to cause trouble. Why he stays with her, I’ll never know, but it’s not my problem anymore. I hauled ass as soon as I could, taking a room at the clubhouse when I turned sixteen. I finally got my own place after Cline was born. Still, I spend more nights here than there.
I continue to ignore what’s going on with the two of them. As we walk into the common room, we head straight to the bar. As soon as the prospect sees Brass and me, he walks over with a bottle of Jack and two shot glasses.
“Looks like you two could use a drink. The baby momma giving you a hard time?” Jerimiah asks, and I don’t even try to hide the sneer on my face.
There is something about this jackass that just gets on my last nerve. I didn’t want to take him on, didn’t think he was worthy of even a Riot MC prospect cut. If it hadn’t been for his uncle, a respected member of the club, he would be out on his ass. Even so, if he doesn’t shape up, he’ll be cut. As Vice President, I can boot a prospect without calling a vote. I’d hate to do that, knowing how much it would piss off his uncle Rio, but I’ll do it if needed.
Picking up the bottle, I bark out my order. “Bring us a couple of beers to the table and keep your fucking mouth shut.”
Holding his hands up in the air, he backs away. “No disrespect meant.”
Brass slams his fist on the bar top and growls, “Did you not understand the part about keeping your fucking mouth shut?”
I look over at Brass and see he has the same look of revulsion that I’m sure my own face is wearing. We’ve talked about the prospect more than once. Neither of us feels like he fits into the club. We’ve had guys like him here before, and they never last. He’s too clean-cut, too much of a pussy to ever be a member of Riot MC. That’s not what is bothering us, though. The problem is that both of us have a gut feeling like the asshole has some other motivation for being here.
I don’t think he’s smart enough to be a rat. Even the boys in blue are not dumb enough to place such a dumbass inside the club and expect to get information. No, I think he is just dumb enough to think this is the life he wants, and that could get him hurt. Not to mention, it could get one of the brothers hurt.
Shaking off my thoughts, I head to an empty table and take a seat. Taking the top off the bottle, I pour some in the shot glass and quickly down the fiery liquid. I pour another for myself first, before I even consider handing it over to Brass. I’ve downed my second before he can even pour his first.
We both stay quiet until Jerimiah brings us our beers. I watch him walk away, stopping to talk to some of the brothers on his way. I see the same look of disgust on all their faces. I keep my eyes on him until he reaches the bar, wondering what the fuck I’m going to do about this shit. The answer is clear; he’s got to go.
“We need to get rid of that kid,” Brass states, finally picking up his shot. “Rio’s nephew or not, we need to cut him.”
I nod my head in agreement before grabbing the bottle. “I’m gonna talk to Tito about it, see if he’s feeling the same way. If so, his ass is gone.”
Brass, like me, is a lifer to the club. All he knows is Riot MC, and more than likely, that is all he will ever know. Brass grew up as a club brat, just like me. His dad was a member, and his mom an old lady. We grew up together, becoming friends before either of us even knew what the real meaning of that word was. That friendship has only grown over the years, and I couldn’t ask for a better man to have my back.
His dad was once the Sergeant at Arms, a role that Brass took over after his death. About three years ago, Brass and his dad were doing a run to New Jersey. I’m not sure what happened, but they totaled the truck. Thankfully, it was after the drugs had been dropped off. Unfortunately, we lost a good brother that day, and Brass lost his father. Even worse, he was the one behind the wheel. Getting the officer’s patch was all my friend had ever wanted, but I know the way he got it still haunts him.
“Looks like you’re gonna get your chance to talk to him now,” Brass says, pulling me away from my thoughts.
Looking over my shoulder, I see Tito stomping my way. His face is as dark as a thundercloud, letting me know he is pissed as fuck. I’m sure it has something to do with my mom. Normally, I’d listen to him bitch about her. As my President, I don’t have much choice. As the only father I ever really knew, I wouldn’t feel right turning my back on him anyway. Today, though, I don’t think I can handle hearing their bullshit.
“That mother of yours is going to drive me fucking crazy. I’m about done with putting up with her shit,” he states as he plops down in a chair and grabs the bottle.
“What’s her problem now?” Brass asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
Brass hates my mother. He fucking can’t stand her. If she comes into the room, he walks out. It wasn’t always like that. At one time, I thought he had a crush—nothing serious, just kid shit. The puppy dog look he used to give her made me sick to my stomach. Then, when he was about twelve or thirteen, he just quit coming around. When I asked him what was up, he said he couldn’t stand to be around my mom any longer. I never asked him why. The truth is, I really didn’t want to know. With my mom, there’s no telling what she did.
“She’s just being a bitch, nothing new,” he replies before downing a drink right from the bottle. “She’s always riding my ass.”
Not wanting to hear more, I change the subject. “I want to talk to you about Rio’s nephew. I think we need to cut him.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before he starts shaking his head. He doesn’t respond, just lifts his hand and motions for the dickhead to bring him a beer. When I start to say something, he shakes his head at me to keep my mouth shut. We all stay quiet until his beer is in front of him and the prospect is back behind the bar.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Tito states, taking a pull from his beer. “Right now, there’s more important shit to discuss. Veronica’s mom died last night, along with her stepdad.”
“Damn.” I let out a deep breath as his words sink it. “What the hell happened? Did they get in an accident or something?”
I haven’t seen Ronni in years, not since the summer she wrecked her bike. Once I told Tito how Mom was treating her, he swore that his daughter would never have to be around her again. He still always saw Ronni, every Christmas and a couple of weeks during the summer, but he never brought her here again. Instead, they traveled all over the fucking country. Even when she grew up, she still didn’t come around. I guess, growing up the way she did, she thinks she’s too good to hang out with a bunch of bikers. She and Tito still see each other, more now than before. They just don’t do it in Indiana.
“Not really sure. Something about a gas leak and carbon monoxide poisoning,” he explains, bringing the Jack to his lips again. “I’m gonna catch the next flight into Houston. I gotta get down there and make sure she’s safe. The way she explained what happened doesn’t make much sense.”
He takes a deep breath then looks over at me. “She was supposed to be staying at the house with them. I guess they pissed her off, so she packed up and went to a hotel. If she had stayed, she’d be gone, too.”
The look on his face is one I'm not used to. It’s a look of anguish, but knowing how he feels about his daughter, I understand it. I’m always worried that something will happen to Cline. Every time she climbs the stairs or rides her bike, I freak the fuck out, thinking about everything that could happen. If she came that close to losing her life, I’d be completely fucked. I wouldn’t know what to do.
The look of anguish fades as he pours himself another shot. “It’s gonna be tough on her. Veronica likes to pretend she’s tough, but she not. No matter how much they butted heads, or how much distance she’s had from her mother over the years, shit like this is gonna be hard. I can’t let my baby girl do this shit on her own. Not to mention, I want to watch as they lower that bitch’s coffin in the ground.”
There was no love lost between Tito and Ronni’s mom. When Ronni was a kid, he had to fight tooth and nail just to see her. At the time, I didn’t understand it. Not seeing my own dad, other than visits to the prison, I didn’t understand how important it was. Now that I have Cline, I understand why Tito fought so hard to be in Ronni’s life.
“Please don’t tell me that bitch was pissed off because you’re going to Texas to be with your kid,” Brass says, not caring that he just insulted my mother and Tito’s old lady.
“She’s whacked in the head, and I’m even more fucked up for keeping her around,” Tito explains with a shrug then looks back at me. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I need you to be in charge while I’m gone.”
“I’ve got you covered.” I nod, knowing what is expected. “You go do what you’ve gotta do and don’t worry about the club.”