Walking The Crossroad

by Parker, Liberty

  “Let’s go ask your uncles and maybe we can make a day of it.”

  “Yes!” she responds, wrapping her arms around my neck in a bear hug. “I love you, Daddy, you’re the best!”

  “I hope you remember that when you’re sixteen,” I say, hugging her back.

  She giggles. “You’ll always be the best daddy.” I really hope she remembers this when I’m running boys off that she’s interested in. Because I’ll be damned if some punk ass kid gets his mitts on my baby girl. We walk out of my office, holding hands, and make it to the media room where the men are relaxing watching some tattoo ink show.

  “My kids wanna go riding, who’s game? Thought we’d take the kids and make a day of it.”

  “Hell yeah!” they respond, and I see phones come out and texts being sent.

  “Libby is going to make us a picnic, need a headcount,” Knuckles tells us.

  We do a quick count and give him a number. He texts his old lady back and she says she’ll bring it out to us in the field we’ve turned into a track and trails. The kids all run out to get into their gear and I grab my girl and we head towards the quads that the brothers and I use when the kids wanna do their thing.

  I don’t do dirt bikes, crotch rockets or anything that doesn’t have a Harley emblem on it. The three and four wheelers are as far as I’m willing to go. I don’t count it against the kids for enjoying their rides, it’s just not for me.

  An hour later, we’re all in the fields and making sure everything is gassed up and ready to go. The kids jump on their bikes and take off jumping hills and running their hearts out. The guys and I get into the cooler and pop our beers as we hang out and talk shit.

  Around lunch time the old ladies pull up on their own quads and I see a few coolers on the backs. We help the old ladies unload then gather all of the kids to come and eat. It’s easier said than done, with so many club kids between all of us, keeping up with a head count is a pain in the ass.

  I don’t know how the old ladies do this shit on a daily basis, I have to give them props for keeping up with them all. Usually, they don’t trust us men to care for the kids on our own, but they all hate watching the kids do their dangerous stunts and shit.

  Us men, we encourage them while the women all cover their eyes, as if they can’t see them, nothing bad will happen. It’s funny as fuck to watch. As I look around and focus on my family, that of blood and my own making, I can’t help but worry what this impending war will be bringing to them.

  We may not all make it out of this unscathed, but I have a positive outlook on the upcoming event that we will come out the victors. I have to keep positive thoughts, however, whatever may become of it, because negative ones have a habit of coming to fruition.

  As lunch is wrapping up, I see my wife coming up the hill in her four-wheel drive SUV. She has tears streaming down her face which puts me on instant alert. I rush over and fling open the door. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I quickly question her.

  “I got some news at the doctor’s that I’m not sure you’ll be terribly happy about,” she says through her sobs.

  “Are you sick?” I ask, the first possibility that pops into my head.

  “No, it’s not what you’re thinking,” she states, wiping the tears from her face using the back of her hand.

  “Give me something here,” I plead with her.

  “Oh God, Jasper. I’m pregnant.” She starts hysterically balling again. I nearly hit my knees with the announcement. We’re fixing to go to war and now I have to not only worry about the safety of the children I already have, but now a new baby, and pregnant old lady. Fuck me! Doctor’s appointments, shopping, and sleepless nights.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, when the realization of what that truly means hits me.

  “I’m so sorry,” she buries her head on the steering wheel. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” she cries out. I grab her out of her seat and pull her into my arms.

  “I’m not angry or upset with you in any way. It’s just a lot of things are fixing to go down in the club and the timing is just off. I still consider this a blessing, but I’m worried at the same time about the issues the club is going through may affect our happiness.”

  “Is it that bad?” she looks up at me and asks.

  “It is, babe, it’s really bad.”

  “War,” she whispers.

  Ding, Ding, Ding. She nailed the hammer on the head first thing.

  “Yeah, babe. War,” I announce.

  “Fuck.” She stole the word from my mouth.

  “Yeah, babe. It’s fucked all the way around.”

  “Will we be okay?”

  “I hope so, Miracle. I really do.”

  Four

  Jasper

  I cannot believe my old lady is pregnant. She is on birth control, but she was sick last month so that counteracted her preventive measures. I can’t be angry with her, I was in the bed the same time she was. A baby, I need time to wrap my head around this.

  I went home, had dinner with my family, and put them all to bed, then walked on over to the clubhouse. I need some alone time to process everything and figure out what safety measures I need to put into place. As I’m sitting here staring at my beer lost in thought, Knuckles sits down next to me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him, because he never visits the clubhouse during nighttime hours unless we’re having a party or family get together.

  “Got a call that you were over here drowning in your thoughts. Wanted to come by and see if there’s anything you need to talk about.”

  “When did we grow pussies and need to talk about our feelings and shit?” I know I sound like a dick right now, but honestly, I was looking forward to some alone time.

  “When you started sitting here getting lost in your thoughts like a damn woman.” His sentence causes me to break out in a full belly laugh.

  “What the fuck ever, asshole.”

  “Seriously, what’s going on with you?”

  “Miracle’s pregnant,” I inform him.

  “Fuck,” he mumbles.

  “Exactly,” I respond.

  He claps me on the back, and states, “It will be alright man, we’ll all stand behind you and help keep your woman safe.”

  “You all have your own families to worry about.”

  “Your family is our family and vice versa.” He makes a good point.

  “True ‘nuff.”

  “I think this is a good enough reason for a few shots and to get shit faced,” he announces.

  “Yes, it is.” I find myself drinking, and partying, with my brothers, and all thoughts of impending fatherhood is drowned out by the alcohol. When the room begins to spin, I stumble to my office and unlock the door. I lock it back behind me as I flop down on my couch. It’s lights out before I have a chance to take my boots off and get comfortable.

  * * *

  I wake up to a pounding headache. My stomach turns some and I go to my liquor cabinet and decide that the hair of the dog is my best bet to get past this hangover. Today’s the day I’ve decided to make the call to Lorenzo, and I need to be on my A-game.

  I send a text to my old lady asking if she can bring me a change of clothes so I can hop in the shower that is connected to my office. I get in touch with a couple of our surrounding MC’s who are allies of ours to give them the heads up on Valdez’s dealings and the offer they brought to me. Needless to say, those friends were less than thrilled and are already siding with us on this impending war. Most of them are fathers and they don’t take the stealing and selling of children well. Most humans wouldn’t, if they had any decency left in their bones, that is. I have six surrounding MCs lined up with us, now it’s time to make the phone call that I’ve been purposely putting off. This is the hard part of the job, but it’s one that can’t be dismissed.

  The phone rings several times before it’s finally answered on the other end. “Jasper, my friend. What did you and your guys decide?” Lorenzo asks me.

&n
bsp; Taking a deep breath, I reply to his question, “I’m sorry, Lorenzo, the club voted unanimously against getting into business with your operation.”

  “That’s a shame, can you tell me why?”

  “Here’s the deal, Lorenzo. Most of us are fathers, and have an issue with selling children who are unwilling victims of the trade. The only reason I’m telling you this, is because I’m sure you’ve done your homework and know we have children of our own. It shouldn’t come off as a surprise that we’re not willing to step into that pile of shit.”

  “Ah, but see, this is where our points of view are different. I also am a father, but it’s not our children who are affected by this business. Your children will all be safe as long as you’re working with us.”

  “Are you telling me that by us not agreeing to work with you, our children are no longer safe from you?” I angrily question him.

  “Wouldn’t you prefer that I not answer that, and just ensure your family's safety by working with us?”

  “Is that your final answer?”

  “I think that’s what I’d like to stick with, yes.”

  “You don’t want an impending war with my club, Lorenzo. I think you should think this through further before issuing threats.”

  “We are not scared of you, we outnumber you by hundreds.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” I emphatically respond. We were already anticipating taking them out, but these threats just make the taste of blood that much sweeter. No one threatens my club, family or children. Nobody!

  “Then we must end this conversation now, I’m afraid. We’ll let the cards lie where they land, yes?”

  “Be ready, Lorenzo. And be very careful of what decisions y’all make. I’m not someone to be messed with.” The line goes dead, and I get up and begin pacing my office. I go over to the wall next to the door and begin pounding on it. My anger takes over, no rational thoughts are floating in my mind. All I can think about are the threats made and the need for retaliation for the words alone.

  Fuck. Him.

  I’m fixing to fuck his world up beyond recognition.

  I send a mass text out to Knuckles, Reaper and Blaze to meet me in my office in thirty minutes. That should give them enough time to get here if they’re at their houses.

  Anger and frustration take hold and I swipe my arm across my desk and everything crashes around me. I take several deep breaths and look around at the mess I’ve created. Oh well, gives the prospects something to do later.

  My door is flung open and I see Knuckles and Reaper standing in the doorway with their guns drawn. They look like they’re ready to take on any threat. They both wear looks of malice upon their faces.

  I guess my temper tantrum wasn’t quiet, and was heard throughout the clubhouse, because I hear the sound of many loud boots pounding down the hallway. It sounds like a herd of elephants making their way here.

  “The fuck, Jasper?” Knuckles yells out. “What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I’m more than a little pissed off right now, and let my temper get the best of me. Everyone out except for those I summoned!” Just like that, the men scamper away like a bunch of scolded children.

  “Wanna tell us what has you so wound up?” Blaze asks me with a concerned look on his face. I attempt to calm down by getting up and grabbing myself the bottle of whiskey from my bar as well as four glasses. They’re going to need it as much as I do, once I give them the details of my conversation with Lorenzo.

  I make us all two fingers full of the needed alcohol, then sit down and gulp mine down in one shot. Then I refill it, then fill them in on the conversation I had. I watch as their faces turn red in anger.

  “He threatened our families?” Reaper screams.

  “He’s a dead motherfucker walking!” Blaze hollers out.

  I look over at Knuckles and see that he’s holding his glass so hard that his knuckles are white, and I fear that his glass may shatter in his hand. “We need to take them out before they can get a plan to hurt ours,” he calmly states, but I can see by his actions that he really isn't. This is when he’s at his most dangerous, his calm facade is anything but.

  “Agreed, church in one hour brothers. We beat them at their own game and take out theirs before they get a chance to touch ours!” I can feel my temper rising again, but the thought of one of mine being hurt brings out a side of me that can’t be contained.

  * * *

  We’ve just filled the brothers in on the latest development.

  “It’s time to fuck them up!” Machete bellows.

  “I say we take out not only their warehouses, but we take out their homes as well. Let’s take away everything that means anything to them,” Cobra says, while cleaning underneath his fingernails with his knife. I can see the contemplation on his features. He does this when he’s lost in thought of the best way to take down his enemies. He’s lethal, quick, and his bite is full of venom.

  “We still sticking to the no hurting women and children thing?” Dawg asks. His family means everything to him.

  “It’s our code, brother,” I remind him, because we do have some morals. I know it’s his anger talking, because he’s a protector by nature, he’d never harm a hair on the head of any woman nor child, regardless of how pissed off he is at the time.

  “I say we stop talking about it and make some plans to chop them off at the knees,” Reaper gripes. He’s not one for talking shit out, he’s more of a doer.

  “Truth,” Kong responds to Reaper’s statement.

  “We’ve already voted for war, now we need to implement that action immediately. Let’s call in our favors, and get those who’ve agreed to stand with us here. Start making calls, Knuckles. Get them here yesterday so we can have church with them, and come up with a fool-proof plan. It’s time to walk the crossroad, brothers!” I say this every time we need to settle something physically.

  Fists bang on the table, and feet stomp on the ground. I can hear and feel the vibrations in the room and let them settle that beast that’s trying to come out in me.

  Then they begin to chant, and I can’t help but join. “The crossroad has been breached, it’s time to soldier on and stand together! Loud and proud, we fight till the death!”

  “Fuck yeah!” Bowie jumps up from his chair, knocking it over in the process, and the proud Native American in him comes out. He begins to chant in his mother tongue, we never know what he’s saying, but we are all mesmerized by it when it happens. His fists raise in the air, and ours go up in unity. We may not know what he’s saying, but we have his back in his culture, the way he does us in ours. “The Gods will give us strength, and wisdom through this trying time. We have their blessings,” he says, and for some odd reason, this brings comfort to me.

  I bang my gavel on the table, and announce, “Church is adjourned, you know what you need to do, do it and we’ll meet again once everyone is here.”

  I leave the anger and resentment behind as I head out of the room we conduct church in, and walk down the hall to my office. I have a lot of thinking to do today, and security measures to implement. Today will be a long as fuck day, but they usually are when you lead so many men with different personalities. I can’t think straight when I’m pissed, so I sit down and let the needs of my club overtake my individual ones.

  No use in crying over spilled beer, time to get this situation under control and get everything resolved. It may take some time for my head to be fully wrapped around all that I’ve learned, but time is not on my side, if Lorenzo’s threats are to be taken seriously, which I am. It’s only a matter of time before they strike first and we need to be prepared for any obstacles they may throw our way.

  These threats against our MC club and our families are unquestionably, one-hundred-percent unforgivable, and I need to squash them like they are an annoying cockroach, crawling for sanctuary underneath my boot.

  If I only had my men to worry about, this would be easy because they are all trained, but
innocent women and children have been threatened. They are not able to protect themselves the way my brothers are capable of doing.

  Now it’s time to strategize, and come up with the best way to protect my family, while taking them out. A feat I know we can accomplish, but my fear of the ramifications regarding our families? It weighs heavily on my chest.

  “Get out of your head, asshole, and fix this,” I murmur to myself. Nothing like a good, old fashioned self-talking to, to get me motivated. No one can scold me better than myself, other than Miracle that is.

  Five

  Miracle

  He’s been locked up in his office for hours now. I know when the meeting ended because it was my day to make lunch and I was in the kitchen preparing that afternoon’s meal. Morgan, Reaper’s old lady was in there helping me when he stormed in, whispered something in her ear and carted her away. I know something is going down in the club, because the men are wired, more than what’s normal for them to be.

  Dawg comes in the kitchen and corners me, “Seen my old lady? She’s not answering her phone and I don’t like it.”

  “She had a client early this morning, you know she doesn't like to have her phone on when she’s giving a massage. It takes scheduled time away from her clients, and they pay her for that time,” I remind him.

  “Don’t like her being out of contact with me,” he states, sitting down at the table, pouting like an insolent child.

  “I can understand that,” I say, making him a mug of coffee. He’s always unsettled until he has a cup or two. Getting it made, I take it over to him and set down in front of him. He takes it, blows on it due to the steam, then takes a big gulp. As if blowing on it would make the burn any less from a cup freshly made.