by K E Osborn
He scoffs. “I’m not going to run. I’ve always admired bikers, and if I can prove myself then maybe I can prospect in?”
I smirk. “Not in those clothes. But if you prove yourself, we’ll see what we can do.”
“Yes!”
“Nice meeting you, Spartacus.”
He frowns and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you too, pleasure doing business with you.”
Turning with Chops, we head out to our bikes leaving Penetrator with Randy.
“So, thoughts?”
“I think he’ll do okay. He’s a good fit. Seems like a smart kid, and like he knows his way around the rave scene. He could be good for business,” Chops replies, and I nod in agreement. He may be a fucking oddball, but he obviously has a hard-on for the club, and that’s the kind of commitment I like.
Hopping on my Hog, I pull on my lid and start up my engine. I nod to Chops and then hammer down to ride back to the clubhouse.
***
I’m lying in bed on a high. The meeting with Randy tonight went well, and he’ll be out now at the rave distributing our eccys making me a nice tidy little profit. Finally! Rolling on my side, I open the bedside table drawer and pull out the photo that constantly resides in there. Bringing the picture up to my line of sight, the image of Amelia holding onto Steel as a baby with Byron and Tyson standing next to her on either side, makes me smile. Running my finger over the tattered old photo, the edges are worn because it’s so old, I remember that day as if it were yesterday. Steel was six months old, and the twins were three. Amelia was glowing with her long blonde hair. She’s simply stunning. I wish I could see her now. I know she’d still be breathtaking.
I miss her.
Looking at the picture, a deep ache develops in my chest. Looking at my boys, my three boys. It makes me think of that day, that happy day when times were simple, and life was blissfully easy.
“Millie, where are you?” I called out from the clubroom doors.
“By the burning tree, lovie,” she replied.
Smiling brightly, I strolled out carrying the tray of sausages that Boiler grilled up for us and placed them on the trestle table.
“Grub’s up, fuckers,” I announced, as Vin’s girl Chelsea ran past my legs screaming at the top of her lungs waving a pink fairy costume above her head. Her sister Stacy soon chased after her.
“Give it back, Chel, or I’ll dob on you!”
Laughing to myself as I continued to walk past the bonfire toward the burning tree, I looked up to see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.
My Millie.
Dylan was on her hip as she bounced our six-month-old joyfully and playfully. He gurgled and chuckled while he played with her hair. She stood there watching our twins play. Strolling up to them, I wrapped my arm around her waist, and she turned to look at me with her beautiful eyes and smiled.
“Hey, lovie, all set?”
Smiling at her, I leaned down pressing my lips to hers. A spark shot through my chest igniting my passion for her. Fuck, I loved that woman. “Yeah, baby.” I pulled back and gently kissed Dylan on his bald head. For a six-month-old you’d think he would have grown some hair by that stage, I mean his old man had hair half way down his back, but nope, stubborn little shit won’t sprout a thing.
“Daddy, Daddy, watch me!” Byron called out making me look up at him high up in the tree. Millie loved that I put some makeshift steps on the tree, so the boys could climb it whenever they wanted. The burning tree was a place for the club to remember the lost, the fallen, the sacrificed. But when that was over, it was a place for the kids to play. And they loved it.
Me on the other hand, it made me nervous. I’m supposed to be this big, broody, strong and tough man, but when it came to my boys climbing trees, the thought of them falling and breaking their arms or legs fucking scared the shit out of me every time.
“Just be careful, Byron. You too, Tyson.”
Millie giggled, and shoulder bumped me.
“We will, Daddy!” they called out.
“You’re so cute when you’re all protective, you know that?” she whispered.
Raising an eyebrow, I smirked. “Cute? Cute! This biker is… cute ma’am?”
She nodded and smiled brightly.
“I’ll show you fucking cute,” I said and grabbed her waist pulling her to me. She squealed as I wrapped myself around her and Dylan, smothering my face in her neck and sucking hard giving her a hickey.
“Frank McNamara! Behave yourself in front of the baby, sir,” she chided trying to smack me off, but I held onto her and swung her from side to side.
Suddenly a thud and then crying broke me away from Millie as I looked down to see Tyson on the ground beneath the tree.
“Fuck! Kid are you okay?” I asked rushing to him, falling to my knees and pulling him into my lap as Millie walked up behind me.
“Daddy, I did fall,” he said as I rocked him, watching the bump on his head grow.
“That’s it, those fucking stairs are coming down.”
“No! Daddy, no,” Byron and Tyson both screamed out. Tyson obviously was completely fine from his fall.
Millie smirked at me, I hated how this shit didn’t affect her. She was such a calm parent.
“Please Daddy, we love the tree.”
“Yeah, Daddy, pleeease,” Byron begged from high up in the tree.
Glancing at Millie, she tilted her head and shrugged. She knew it was my call, but in the end, I could never say no to my boys. They always got what they wanted. I’m no push over in the club, but when it came to my kids, they fucking won every fucking time. And they fucking knew it.
“Fine.”
“Yay,” Byron and Tyson both called out, and Dylan clapped his hands seemingly enjoying the excitement from his brothers. Even though my heart skipped a thousand beats, and I was so scared for my kids, that right there, time with my family, at my club, was all I ever needed. That was my life. That was my nirvana. Nothing could beat it.
“Right, Byron come down, Daddy wants to take a picture of you with Mummy.”
Byron climbed down the makeshift stairs, and Tyson hopped out of my lap. I jumped up and walked over to the trestle table and picked up the camera. “Right boys, stand one on each side of Mummy.”
They ran either side of her as she hoisted Dylan on her hip again. The boys cuddled into her legs as I brought the camera up to my face, pulled off the lens cap and adjusted the aperture.
“Right… say Satan’s Savages!”
“Satan’s Savages,” they all called out, and then I hit the button on the camera taking the photo that I keep with me to this day.
Frowning as I look at the burning tree in the background and the little stairs on the tree, I think of the giant tree outside and how those stairs are no longer there. But the holes from the screws remain in the trunk as a reminder of time past. The stairs came down the day after my twins were murdered. And the tree became a place for mourning only, not fun, laughter and happiness like it once carried. Only anger, hatred, and bitterness come from that tree now. Utter sadness and depression surround it like it surrounds my life.
Taking a deep breath, I think about Christmas. That time wasn’t far from Christmas, and it’s coming up in a few weeks. This time last year Steel was here, my only remaining son, he’s been gone from Virginia for so long I don’t know how to function properly without him anymore.
Swallowing hard as my memories cloud my judgement, I lean over grabbing my phone. I swipe the screen and bring up Millie’s contact number. Talking to her all those months ago when Steel left messed me up, but I’ve thought about her every day since. And every day I’ve been battling to not call her just to hear her voice one more time.
I hover over the call button, like I do most nights, wondering if I have the guts to actually press it tonight. I had a good day. The club had a victory, and I want to celebrate that with someone, but the two people I want to share my excitement with, aren’t here. My wife and my kid. They both le
ft me. Clenching my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and rub my free hand over my face.
Fuck, I wish I could do it. I wish I had the balls to call her. To make amends for just letting her walk away. I’m the reason they’re both gone, only I can fix it, but my fucking finger won’t press the fucking call button. Opening my eyes, I hit the middle button escaping out of her contact details and throw my phone on the bedside table, grunting at myself in the process.
Mad Dog you’re your own worst enemy!
Rolling over in my bed and exhaling at myself, I close my eyes willing a vision of Amelia to come into my thoughts. I wonder what she’s doing right now. I wonder if she thinks of me like I always think of her at night. I wonder if she’s moved on. Fuck me, I would fucking kill another man if he touched her. But I guess that’s bound to happen. I just don’t need to think or know about it. I mean, I fuck the club whores all the time, so it makes sense she’d be off with other men.
Ahhh, fuck! Stop thinking about it, Mad Dog!
I love her, that never stopped, and I was the biggest fucking idiot to let her walk out of my life. I know that now. But it’s too late to fix it. If I could, I would—I just can’t see how. She wants nothing to do with the club, and I’m the president, those two things don’t tend to mesh well together. So there’s really nothing I can do, but keep moping in my own solace. Amelia’s beautiful face fills my mind as I try to get some sleep that doesn’t easily come.
CHAPTER FOUR
AMELIA’S POV
The soap suds pop and fizzle against my wrinkled hands, as I frustratingly wipe the plate I’ve already wiped over three times before. My mind is off tonight. For some reason, I can’t stop thinking about the past.
“You sure you want to do this?” Candice asked, and I chuckled.
“Hey, if you can marry a club man and survive, I’m sure I can too, right?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh sweetheart, I married Vinnie. He’s not really what you would call a tough man, now would you? Mad Dog on the other hand? Well, he’s tough, fair, loyal and… the mother fucking president, bitch. I repeat, are you sure you want to do this?”
Smiling the brightest smile I’d ever smiled in my life, I nodded. “Fucking yeah, I do.”
“Okay then, may as well. You look fucking hot in that little lace getup, sister.”
Chuckling, I looked down at my dress. It was white, came mid-way up my thighs, the sleeves came half way down my arms, and the lace went all the way up to the top of my neck. It was cute and a very hippy seventies retro. Not very wedding style, but very biker chic.
“Let’s go get me married.”
Candice nodded and hooked her arm in mine, and I jumped slightly on the spot. I felt one of the flowers in my hair move, but it didn’t fall luckily. We walked through the clubhouse and outside. The sun shone brightly through the burning tree. The blistering of the summer sun, burning my tanned skin, didn’t even bother me. I was on a high, I was marrying my lover and dream man, the president of the Virginia Satan’s Savages. He came into view as he stood under the burning tree, dressed in black slacks, a white tank top, and his cut. His beard was neatly trimmed, but still in his customary brown triangle. His long silky brown hair tied back in a low bun. His toned body standing tall as he looked me up and down with a giant smile. My heart skipped a beat as I marched up to him to our song ‘Feels Like The First Time’ by Foreigner playing lightly in the background.
I reached out to him, his woodsy, musk scent filled my senses and a spark shot right through my very core at just the slightest touch. He grabbed my hands and pulled me to him making me giggle as my body fell into his, and he wrapped his arms around my tiny waist.
“You look fucking amazing, Millie. I can’t wait to make you my wife, I love you so fucking much.” His lips pressed to mine. Vin, Chops, and Frankie all cheered along with the other members of the club, who were there to witness our nuptials.
Pulling back slightly, I looked into his deep, endless, sparkling brown eyes and smiled at him lovingly. “Say we’ll be together forever.”
“Nothing will tear us apart, Millie. Your mine for eternity.”
The plate cracks and the stab of the porcelain jabbing into my finger startles me back into the now.
“Fucking hell!” Throwing the now overly washed and completely broken plate into the cold water of popped suds, I dry my hands on a tea towel and assess the damage.
Pulling my finger up to take a look, it’s just a tiny cut, nothing some Betadine and a Band-Aid won’t fix. Huffing as I walk into the bathroom, I shake my head at my own stupidity and switch on the light, pulling back the vanity mirror. Grabbing my Medical Aid, I get to work on my bloody finger and fix it up in no time.
“Stupid fucking Mad Dog, distracting me from everything,” I murmur to myself putting the Betadine back in the vanity and closing the mirrored door with a little more force than necessary.
It’s funny how a man can go from so loving and attentive to what Mad Dog has become. He changed over the years. The club took over, and even after everything that happened, he continued to drag our only remaining son into that fucking world. But at least, Steel is at Aldinga now, and not Virginia. That club have their heads screwed on, and they don’t go looking for trouble. Unlike Virginia, who seem to be basking in trouble these days.
Huffing as I think of Mad Dog again, I almost punch off the light switch and decide I’ve had enough of my self-torment. I’m going to bed.
Making my way to my room, I flick off all the switches on my way as I drag my feet along the floor. I don’t know why I’m so down today, I guess everyone has their moments, though. Getting to my bed, I pull back the covers and slide in, after putting on my pajamas earlier. Who am I kidding? I didn’t get out of them from bed this morning. I really have been out of sorts all day.
My head hits the soft pillow, and it’s that little bit of relief that I’ve needed. My body relaxes slightly, but my mind goes straight back to my ex-husband, and I swallow hard gritting my teeth. I wish I could walk back into the club and take Mad Dog back, but the memories at that place of our dead boys is too strong. I can’t go back there, and I won’t ask Mad Dog to leave the club, so there’s no hope for us.
Rolling on my side, I glance at the photo on my bedside table of Willow and Steel. Steel’s holding Petunia their pet teacup pig. I smile and kiss my fingers placing them on the picture’s glass and then turn off my side light sending the room into blackness.
MAD DOG’S POV
CHRISTMAS EVE
The Clubhouse is festive, the girls having decorated the place to the nines. There are tinsel and baubles everywhere, and the Christmas spirit is certainly alive and well. Which makes the rest of my brothers excited and jovial, but me, moody and cranky. Christmas is a time for families, and as the old ladies are coming in tonight and spending the night here with the kids and their men, the place is alive and buzzing with the feel of family.
Except there’s one problem, mine are considerably absent. This is the first year since Steel was born I’ve spent Christmas Eve without him. Now it might sound lame, but that’s twenty-five years and, to be honest, changing something like that suddenly, doesn’t sit well with me. Everyone is gathered in their groups celebrating and enjoying each other’s company, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than the fact that my kid is at another chapter with his Old Lady. An Old Lady that he’s been together with for a year, and they’re probably as happy as larks while I’m here wallowing in my own self-pity thinking of how my life got so royally fucked up.
When did I become like this? When did I become such a sad sack of shit that my wife, my son, my brothers—no everyone around me leaves? Am I that horrible to be around?
Suddenly, my phone starts to ring startling me from my self-pity party of one. Looking down to my screen, I smile when I see the name ‘Kid’ flash up on it.
“Steel, everything okay?” I ask wondering why he’s calling and hoping like fuck nothing’s gone wron
g.
“Hey Dad, everythin’ is fine. Just wanted to check in on ya. Sorry, I haven’t rung for a while, things have been a little crazy, but we’re doin’ okay at the moment. Just wanted to know how you were. I know this is the first Christmas I’ve been away from ya, so just wanted to make sure you’re doin’ all right?”
Smiling, I chuckle slightly. “Checking up on your old man, that’s sweet, you soft sack of shit. I’m fine, things are normal. How’s the red-head, you knock her up yet?”
He chuckles and the laugh is genuine. “No, not yet. She wants to be hitched before I put my kid in her belly.”
Opening my eyes wide, I grimace slightly. “And is that on the cards? You getting hitched, I mean?”
He exhales and pauses. “Yeah, I think so. She’s doin’ so well here, Dad, she’s an amazin’ Old Lady. She’s a lot stronger than I gave her credit for. She’s basically taken on the motherin’ role of everyone here, she’s like Mum was back when…” he trails off, and my chest tightens thinking of Amelia back when she was here and by my side.
She was a great Old Lady.
She was perfect at it.
Everyone respected her, and she kept everyone in line.
Things changed when the boys died, though, she fell off the wagon I suppose, became depressed, and lost her zest for life—for me. She couldn’t be here anymore. I understood, our boys died here at the hands of a rival biker club, who’ve since been disbanded by the heat. They were hardcore fuckers and Chops got on their wrong side, so they came in guns-a-blazing. Byron and Tyson just got in the way of rogue bullets. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. They were only eight when it happened, so young to die, they didn’t deserve it. She stayed for a while, but when Dylan prospected in, Amelia lost it and packed her things. She left so fast we hardly had time to say goodbye. Dylan was sixteen when she left. That’s 9 years ago, and the pain today is still as fresh now as it was back then.