13

Air Raid

Rampage

              No one looks happy. Not that we’re a fucking jolly bunch of assholes to begin with, but today the brothers are looking extra mean. Sitting around our table, brothers wait and stew, grumbling and growling about every fucking thing.

Tank looks tired and stressed the fuck out at the head of the table. Tiny looks annoyed, with his face planted in the books, jerking the pages as he flips them back and forth. Happy looks worried, which is nothing new. We’ve got Spike and Rico, along with a few other new guys leaning against the back wall, acting twitchy and jumpy. They look fired up. Then you’ve got Gin and Stitch, who both look happy as hell. They’re plotting and scheming. Of course this shit would make those motherfuckers giddy.

“Kash gonna live?” Sargent asks, looking grim. The old timer’s take this shit seriously. They’re looking at this as Vietnam all over again, waiting for someone to holler ‘air raid’ so they can duck, cover, and shoot.

“Yeah. Just a busted up arm ‘n some nice road rash. Nothin’ some booze ‘n pussy can’t fix. Assholes ran him off the road. Guessin’ it’s because Mr. Shoot-First-Ask-Questions-Later killed one of their brothers,” Tank shoots off at me.

Still don’t give a fuck. I’d do that shit again in a heartbeat, just wish I would’ve wasted another couple bullets on the other two fucks. Kash’ll live and we’ll make sure he’s well taken care of.

“Don’t give a fuck.” I fire back. Not a goddamn thing about that shit makes me feel bad. You come to my club not wearing your colors, you’re just asking for trouble.

“Figured as much,” Tank shoots back, leaning into is chair.

“Gotta say. I don’t give a fuck, either. Been wantin’ to eradicate those fucks anyway, man,” Gin adds, shrugging his shoulder. “They’ve been fuckin’ with my money, and Rampage’s girl just gave us a better reason to take those fuckers down.”

              Lala isn’t the only fucking reason we should kill ‘em all. They’re here in our neck of the woods, running skin − peddling bitches around the world to the highest bidder. They’re using the same goddamn strip joint we found Lala in, as a front. Big fuckin’ mistake. The moment that shit popped up around here, we knew. We’ve been waiting for a good reason to take them out, and they just dug their own graves. They know we don’t fuck around with our money, and we don’t peddle pussy. You don’t kidnap bitches and sell them if they don’t want it. That shit is just fucked up, and I know now that that’s what was going to happen with Lala.

              But their final mistake was putting Lala up on that stage. They might not have known at first, but they sure the fuck knew when they showed up at our doorstep to collect her. Allowing that little puke associate Ryan to set Lala’s ass up on that stage, trying to sell her off, is just the icing on the cake. Sending their guys here with Ryan was them sending a message, and we got it loud and clear.

“They gotta go,” Stitch says with a serious nod.

“Jesus Christ. You, Rampage, ‘n Gin are three motherfuckers cut from the same goddamn cloth. Always stressin’ me the fuck out.”

I’m not gonna argue that. Anyone, and I mean anyone that wants to mess with our family, that shit is personal. I don’t give a fuck if it’s Lala, Sis, Mary, or one of my brothers. You don’t start shit unless you’re ready to come suited up and ready for war. They knew what the fuck they were doing.

“What about the kids and the bitches?” Tiny pipes up.

“Mary, Kiki and Peaches take the kids up into the mountains,” Tank says. Fuck. At least that’s one less group of people we’ve got to worry about.

“Why not all the old ladies?” King asks, taking a swig of beer.

“The second those motherfuckers see all the women gone, they’ll know what we’re doing. They don’t give a fuck who they take, and if they see the whole lot of women and kids leavin’, they’ll know what the fuck is up and instead of coming for us, they’ll take them. We leave the majority here, they’ll think they are just going on some day trip or some shit and they won’t think nothin’ of it ‘til it’s too late. They’re watching us, so we make things look like business as usual.”

“Sending them alone?” Gin glares at Tank and I swear, Tank looks close to shooting him.

“Wayne, Kash, and a few others will ride up with them. We’ve got Trace, Tyler and Danny, Lil’s uncle, meeting up with them. It’s a five hour trip, so they will be with us for three hours of the trip. If they are followed and someone catches on, it will be too late. They’ll have no choice but to bring that shit to us, here. So no, Gin, not alone. I’m sending Ty with them, so I could beat the living shit out of you for thinking I would send him alone with no protection. You are one stupid motherfucker, Gin. I appreciate the fact you think I would do something so fucking stupid.”

Kash won’t be a whole lot of help, but if shit goes down, he can still shoot a gun. He’ll be better off there, keeping an eye on the family and getting the rest he needs, than being here in a fight.

              We get that shit locked down and get down to business. We discuss how to handle our little buddies. We figure some shit out and we hammer out a plan.

“We gotta be careful. Those fuckers play dirty. Been avoidin’ this shit for years now, but since Rampage decided to throw down, we’re throwin’ down.” Tank says.

Don’t know why that fucker is acting like that wasn’t exactly what he would have done if it would have been Sis. That asshole would have shot every last one of them. He’s crazy that way.

“Stop fuckin’ throwin’ accusations my way. Didn’t do shit you wouldn’t have done. Let’s not forget, he wasn’t flyin’ his colors. I wanted to kill Ryan, but I knew he was into them for a shitload of money, so I’m pissed that I didn’t just shoot them all and be done with it.”

“Calm your panties, asshole.”

“My panties. I’ll show you panties, asshole,” I mutter under my breath. Tank throws his head back and laughs like an insane idiot. Slamming down the gavel, he shoves away from the table and announces loudly, “This shit’s done. We kill ‘em when we see ‘em. Now, let’s get the fuck outta here. I need some pussy.”

****

              Tonight is the night. Told Lala I’d take her to my place, so that’s what I’m doing. We’ve been held up at the club and it’ll only be getting worse here soon. I’m guessing she needs that space thing woman are always bitching about. Figured I’d bring her here before she starts complaining. When I told her, she got all excited. Don’t know what she’s excited about. My house ain’t nothing to get excited about. She’s going to be disappointed if she thinks she’s getting Sis and Tank’s place, or Gin and Peaches, but Lala wants that shit, so like everything else, imma give it to her.

“You ready, baby?” She smiles at me and nods. She’s pretty damn good with this whole riding on the back of my bike thing. I get on and she’s right there behind me, pressing that perfect body up against mine, hands around my waist. It never fails to make my dick hard. Thinking I’m gonna fuck her on the bike real fuckin’ soon. Leaning into me, I know she’s ready when her weight rests on me. Starting my bike up, we pull out.

             

Kicking the front door open with my foot, I let Lala in first. This place was my grandma’s. She died before I was born and left it to my mom. When my mom died, it became mine. Not much of a place, but it has a roof, walls, and a foundation. It took me two years after mom died to come back here. Still don’t spend much time here.

The day I turned eighteen, I cleared out the entire house, throwing every single fucking piece of furniture, plates, pots, and pictures, out. I have two things that were my mom’s; a photo album and a ring, and those things aren’t even here. They’re stored in the safe at the club. Other than that, I have nothing from my shit childhood. I fucking like it that way. No need to hold onto that shit.

“This is the front room.” Not that you could tell with its lack of non-existent furniture. Not a single piece of furniture in this room. No need, there’s no use for it.

“Where do you sit? Where do you relax?” She asks. Looking around, she seems confused.

“I don’t.”

“So you sit on the floor?” she retorts. Fucking smart-ass.

“Sure the fuck don’t, Lala.”

“You stand in here then?” She does this shit just to fuck with me, because that smile gives her away.

“Yeah, baby. I just lean up against the wall ‘n stare out the fuckin’ window.” Her laugh is soft, almost musical. It’s that laugh that gets to me. It’s so fucking hard not to stop and listen to her. I enjoy that shit.

“Sounds comfortable.”

“Fuckin’ smart-ass” Her eyes widen as her hands fly to her chest. A dramatic gasp leaves those lips, and I can’t help but wonder why is it that Lala can make me smile. I’ve got shit running through my head. I’m plotting deaths and shit, but here I am, laughing and smiling with her.

“Me?” she laughs.

“Yes, you.” Women. Never understood them, but I think I’m getting the hang of this one. Fuck, I hope so, at least.

              “This is the bedroom.”

“Never would have known that, considering the bed is the only thing in here.”

That’s it. Coming up behind her, I scoop her ass up by the hips and toss her smart-assed mouth onto the bed, “Still feel like givin’ lip, babe?”

“Kinda like the no furniture look. I can decorate it.”

Whoa, whoa. Back the fuck up. This is not turning into that. Looking all excited and enthusiastic about the idea, I don’t tell her no, but she starts bringing in curtains and shit, I’m putting a fucking stop to it.

****

              Lying in bed, Lala’s got her leg thrown over mine and her head propped up on my shoulder. We got the TV on, I got a smoke in my hand and a drink in the other. She fed me, and now we’re just relaxin’, watching shit TV.

“Rampage?”

“Lala,” I counter. She hesitates for a second. That brief hesitation’s never good.

“Why are you taking care of me?” Taking care of her? She’s not a fucking infant.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re helping me. You gave me a car and a place to stay. Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why? Is it because we’re having sex?”

              Not even fucking close. Sex is not a good enough reason to go through all of this shit. Sex with Lala is good shit, the best shit I’ve ever had, but it wouldn’t be the reason I do this shit. I started doing this shit before I fucked her, anyway. I’m not sure why though. It’s not like she’s broken or lost. I know she can take care of herself. Maybe for the first time in my life, I feel like I’ve got some sort of purpose, other than hurting people. Feels good to have someone need me, and I like that she really wants me. I’ve got a reason to do good shit for someone. For once in my life, I give a fuck about someone other than myself and it’s nice.

“Don’t know, Lala.”

              “Well I hope you know I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Wrapping an arm around my stomach, she tugs me close to her and sighs. Never in my life have words and a touch from someone hit a nerve. I’ve been called terrible shit. Bitches have told me they love me. I’ve been fucked over. I’ve had people do nice shit for me. None of it did shit for me. Lala says one thing, one goddamn thing, and that shit settles in my heart.