MASE

I swung my feet off the side of the bed. I looked over my shoulder. They woman I met last night, sound asleep.

I grinned.

I fucked her into a coma. She liked it rough and I accommodated her request. I dropped a couple of bills on the nightstand, she wasn’t a pro, but it was a nice gesture on my part. She told me her story, something about running away and a better life.

I half listened.

She may be insulted at first, but she’d appreciate it.

I put the do not disturb sign on the door and left.

I secured my bag to the back of my bike and heard the buzzing noise.

I pulled out the burner phone duct taped to the side of the compartment under my seat.

I looked at the caller id and my heart dropped. It was Derrick. He was the only one who knew the number. He was told not to use it, which meant some shit had gone down. He respected me enough to not use it to simply brag to me about some woman he fucked. Or some banger he roughed up.

I doubt he’d have used if he was in trouble, which meant it was either my dad, Mattie or Grace.

I flipped the phone open, squeezed my eyes shut, and waited.

“Mase.” The anguish in his voice crawled into my heart.

I clutched my chest and rubbed it with my knuckles, the way you’d do to an unconscious patient to revive them.

I hadn’t spoken.

“Mase man. It’s Mattie.”

I dropped to my knees. I rested a hand on my bike.

“Fuck. He’s gone.” Derrick sobbed in the phone. “I’m sorry man, but he’s gone.”

I rested my head on my arms. My body warred with itself. My heart felt the sadness and despair, my brain went for an all-consuming anger so quick, it scared me.

“How?” Was all I could manage.

“Vipers.” Derrick said. “They did it in our home. Gunned him down last night as he was coming back. They had to be waiting for him.”

“He was alone?” I held my hand up. I gripped the phone so tight, the case cracked.

“We were on a ride, fucked up some Vipers shit in Pennsylvania and Maryland.”

“This was payback.” I stood up.

“Maybe. But, the timing’s all off …” Derrick voice trailed off.

The anger side of me won out. I cracked the phone in half. I didn’t need to hear any more. I jumped on my bike and kick started it. I revved the engine. The mean noise matched the roar in my heart. I did a mental calculation. If I rode straight through, I’d be back home in three days. Or, I could drive thirty minutes to the nearest airport and be home in four hours.

Fuck me. No one would let me on a plane like this.

I palmed the handle of the gun in the back of my pants and pulled it out and secured it in front of me.

I walked the bike out of the parking space and turned it, I squeezed the handle and took off.

Two turns and I’d be on the I-70E heading back to the mess, like my name suggest.

I didn’t realize how much I’d miss the freedom of not worrying about anything but myself. I thought about Gracie a lot, but I welcomed it. My little Gracie, knowing the one person in the world who no matter what loved me, made the world seem not so lonely.

I thought about not if, but when we found each other again.

I knew it like I knew how to breathe that Gracie was mine and we’d end up together. She had my heart in her hands and at the moment, she held it there with an open palm. At some point, she would squeeze it with all her might and holding it close to her perfect tits and when that day came, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

As I made it across the countryside averaging eighty miles per hour, I thought about everything except her. I was able to do too much thinking.

I thought mostly about how to kill every single man associated with the Vipers. Every town I passed through I mentally pictured where in the city the Vipers hung out. Some places, I knew, others I could find out with just a phone call, but all that’s all they were... thoughts.

Going after them, was the rage talking, it wasn’t the logical thing to do and I wouldn’t get far. I thought about ending it, too. Being in this world without Mattie, I didn’t want to think about it. It hurt too much.

I thought about my mother.

Not many people knew Greta wasn’t my mother, or if they did know, they didn’t talk about it.

My dad never married my mom. A rival gang shot her and while she didn’t die, she was confined to a wheelchair. My father paid for her care out of guilt, but I lived with him and Greta for as long as I can remember.

I saw my mother a couple of times growing up.

I thought about the last time I saw her.

When I was twelve, my father had picked me up from school early and drove me to a hospital.

My mother had cancer and was dying.

He pushed me into her room, turned around, and left.

I had stood by the door, not moving, not breathing.

She turned to me. Her lips thin and blue, her skin almost translucent.

Tubes and wires snaked from beneath blankets and into the monitors surrounding the hospital bed.

I held my breath.

She smiled.

I exhaled and with that breath the tears fell.

She motioned for me and I ran to her side, and hugged her.

She held me until I calmed down.

I forgave her and she forgave me.

Before she died, my mother made me promise not to join the club. It was an easy ask. I hated it. Everything it stood for. It had my mother living in constant fear, it took her son away from her, and it put her in a wheelchair.

It didn’t seem worth it.

I thought of Greta. I saw all the nights she stayed up worried for him, the times we had to move or get carted off someplace in the middle of the night because we were in danger and Dad wanted us to be safe.

The shit he was into was dangerous. With my mother’s death, all it did was push me further into the club. It was all about hate and revenge and making someone pay for what happened to her. We avenged her death, but it felt empty and hollow.

History repeated itself.

In times of troubles, my dad would always say, you turned to your brothers. They will be there to help you heal.

Mattie would humor me about leaving, too. But, when the time came, I knew he wouldn’t. He lived for this life. Lived for pleasing my father and following in his footsteps. My father wrote me off a long time ago, but lines of succession were important to him. As long as he attempted a legit side to the club business I would oblige, but when I turned twenty-one, I was out. It was a promise I made to my mother and I wanted to keep it.

He had to respect it. I gave him no choice.

Three days later, I pulled into the clubhouse yard around eight am. I parked my bike in my normal spot. The anger had dulled to a deep ache and it threatened to boil over if I didn’t keep it in check.

A few members milled around outside, all dressed in suits. It had been four days since they killed my brother. My father would want him in the ground as soon as possible.

I found Dad in the lounge nursing a glass of brown liquid and reading the paper. His face drawn and tired. He blinked when he saw me. He folded his paper and sat it next to him. He stood up and walked toward me. He wore a light grey suit and a dark grey tie. He stared into my eyes, asking a question, I didn’t want him to ask.

I looked away. The place looked exactly the same.

“You’re back.” He said, but I heard the unspoken question ringing in my head.

You’re back for good?

He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. My father was a few inches shorter than me. He pulled me toward him and hugged me. My father hadn’t hugged me in years. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. Maybe he needed it. I hugged him back.

“I’m so sorry, Mase.” He whispered in my ear.

I pushed away from him and turned my back to him.

He placed his hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll get the son of a bitch who took Mattie from us,” he said. The rage in his voice matched the rage in my heart.

I turned my head toward him and looked into his eyes.

“Fuck yeah, we will.” I nodded.

He nodded back.

I heard a tiny gasp from the corner of the room and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I turned and spotted her.

Gracie.

She wore a black dress. It had no shape and fell to her knees. She looked sexy as hell.

I closed my eyes and opened them.

She held a white handkerchief in her hand. She dabbed at her eyes.

“There’s my girl.” My dad said. He motioned for Grace.

She hesitated.

I narrowed my eyes.

“I’m happy you’re here.” He said as he put an arm around Grace. “Grace has some great news.”

“Hi Mase.” She said. Her voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.” She looked up at my father and back at me.

I turned away from her. I couldn’t look at her. It hurt too much.

“Tell him, Gracie.” My dad said.

“I don’t think this is the time.” She said.

“We should be celebrating it.” Dad said.

I turned back toward him.

“Celebrate what?” I growled.

“Grace is pregnant with Mattie’s child.” Dad touched Grace’s stomach.

She flinched from his touch, but he didn’t notice.

I noticed.

“That’s great news.” I walked towards the back stairs. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

“You do that son.” My dad hugged Grace to him, kissed her forehead and headed toward the main room in the clubhouse. “We leave in an hour to go pick up your brother and lay him to rest. No guns, no violence today. I got the Guardians in the area to lay down protection. Nothing is going to happen today. Today, I bury my son, we focus on avenging him tomorrow.”

I nodded.

Grace held her hand over her mouth.

I studied her. She looked different. She was grieving, but she had a glow about her.

I dragged my gaze away from her and headed upstairs.

She followed.

I pulled off my jacket, and pulled my t-shirt off over my head. I stopped in the middle of the door when I saw it. My cut laid flat on the bed. I knelt next to the bed and ran my hand over the emblem.

Grace sat down on the bed. She placed her hand over mine.

I slid it away and stood back up.

“I need to jump in the shower.” I headed for the bathroom.

“Mase.” She said, the desperation in her voice. She wanted comforting and I had none to offer her at the moment. The news of the baby, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Happy for her. Happy for my family to have a part of Mattie live on. Sad for me. While I knew she loved me, I left, Mattie stayed. I’d only been gone for eight weeks. Maybe they consoled each other in my absence. I wanted to, but I had no right to ask.

“I missed you.”

I heard her get up and walk over to me. She laid her hand on my back. “You got some new ink.”

It was the map of the United States on my back, just the outline. I planned to fill it with moments from my travels. I’d only managed to fill out two spots. A memorable ride through the countryside in Philadelphia commemorated with a graphic of my bike and a steak I had at a place in Chicago that summed up the weekend I spent in the city. She traced the outline of Florida.

I turned around and pushed her back.

Her hands on my back felt wrong. Like it disrespected my brother some how.

“How far did you go?” She asked.

“Colorado.” I said.

She nodded.

“I’m sorry you had to come back.” She turned her head up and hugged herself. “When you leave this time, please do me a favor.”

She put her arms around me.

I flinched, but let her touch me. I smelled her hair.

Her strong little arms clung to me. Her thumb made small little circles on my lower spine. I had to smell like two thousand miles of road. Grace didn’t seem to care.

“What do you need Grace.” I embraced her and held her to me.

“Take me with you.”