by Adair Rymer
“Figured as much. Tex told me that the order to take out the Russians in prison came from you. After all that we went through putting that together, I'd have never set fire to it intentionally. I'm sorry about how it all went down. I had no idea.”
“I don't doubt it.” Miles didn't look surprised. “It was tense for a few months after the new blood was patched in. When Tex got their support, it was only a matter of time til somethin' popped up that he could challenge me on. I was pushed out right before you were put in medical.”
“Yeah,” The crossed coffins on my arm, the symbol of our club seemed to itch. “Looks like Tex bent both of us over the pine boxes. Where is everybody?” I didn't see any actual members anywhere.
“Inside. We got a logistics meeting for the run tomorrow.” Miles checked his phone. “Actually, it looks like it just started. Let's head in.”
“Charity ride?” I asked.
“I wish.” The thought of what was coming made Miles grimace. “It's the pine boxes that got bent over this time.” That coming from the ex-president didn't bode well.
“Iron Legion?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Shit.”
I looked back at Skids to let him know we were heading in, but it looked like he was in the middle of a heated argument with the girl that had just pulled in. My guess was that it wasn't over the parking situation.
We all had our battles to fight and that looked like one he wanted to handle alone. I might have been looking at one myself when I sat down at the table. I pushed open the clubhouse doors. For a moment, I thought I was in the wrong building. The place looked radically different. I barely recognized it.
“Fucking hell. Love what you've done with the place. It's got that Satan's man-cave vibe.” Had to be money from the Russians that turned our humble little community hall into a goddamn heavy metal ski resort.
Miles just shook his head. I could tell he didn't care for the excessive nature of it.
There was wood paneling, checkered tiles, and carpeting beneath a host of new leather furniture, big screen TVs, and pool, foosball and card tables. There was a tricked-out liquor and stripper bar, I'm sure that was a family function friendly crowd pleaser, and an entire new wing for our personal rooms. I could only imagine what they looked like!
Gone were the days of drunkenly collapsing against the tagged-up drywall or fucking some bitch's brains out on the concrete floors. That last part I didn't miss all that much. That concrete was cold as hell and hard on the knees. I assumed.
I threw open the doors to the War Room , the name for our private meeting room where all club business was discussed. The room itself looked at least similar to how I remembered it. The walls and floor were uniformly renovated to fit the rest of the club aesthetics but somehow Miles and Skids had been able to keep the spirit of the room intact. It was the first thing that actually felt like home.
Where everything outside this room was replaced with shiny and new shit, in here it just looked like it was all updated which I was alright with. The incorporation paperwork was still framed above a cascade of old pictures. The death's-head symbol over the club's crossed-coffins logo hung ominously on the far wall, above portraits of fallen members.
That grey wall was much more cluttered with pictures of the dead than when I left several years ago. J-Rock, Trainwreck, and Smokey, good men and good brothers, were now just squares of printed plastic behind a thin layer of ash smeared plexiglass.
Under Tex, I didn't see that wall getting smaller any time soon.
The four men that sat around the table stood up to greet me. All new members, minus President Tex. I made the rounds and did the introductions but I didn't feel like a returning brother. They looked at me like I was a nomad, a friend of the club that was just passing through. I was a stranger in my own home.
Skids showed up as I was doing the rounds. He and Miles took their seats. I had to remember that for however long I was staying, I did have allies here.
The gavel came down and everyone else started sitting down. It was still weird seeing Tex, of all people, in the big seat. That squirrely prick must have had to do some serious maneuvering to get the majority vote.
It was all new to me but the changing of leadership was ancient history to these guys. Life in the club typically went at such a breakneck speed that if you wanted to survive you had to form new alliances constantly. Memories had to be short and I got that, but I was still pissed. Not that I could show it of course. I couldn't let the past sidetrack me from getting out. I had to focus on getting out of the club. Nothing else mattered.
“First things first. Welcome back, Junk. We missed you brother.” It was custom for the president to publicly welcome returning brothers even if you weren’t hoping they'd return. Coming from Tex, it was an empty gesture.
Either way, it was followed by a renewed round of cheering by the other guys. “I'll keep this brief because we got ourselves some celebrating to do. The truck will be here tomorrow at ten, and we leave at noon. Road captain, we good with the route and hotels?”
“Yep.” Loopy, answered him. “No sweat.”
“Hold up,” I interjected. “I've been underground for a while, someone wanna fill me in on what we're doing exactly?”
“My bad, Junk. We're muleing fifty kilos of coke to Cali for the Iron Legion. That going to be a problem for you?” Tex studied my reaction.
“Jesus fuck! Seriously? Yes, that's a goddamn problem for me. I was in prison six hours ago! I’m not all that eager for the free ride back.” Tex was out of his mind if he thought I'd just hop on this like nothing ever happened. I was still on parole. If I sneezed in the wrong direction my ass gets busted.
“Alright, I'll level with you, Junk. After your stretch, you deserve at least that much. The Club isn't going to make it on our own any more. We need the Legion and we need their money if we're going to keep our turf. This run is over a hundred K net for us, Junk. This isn't even a real decision, it's just some shit that we have to do. It's already been voted. This is happening.”
Tex sized me up. “It's the life, brother. Fast or dead, you know how it goes.”
The room was tense. The new guys were fresh and judged me. The old guys were in it too deep. They might not have liked the direction Tex was taking them, but the club was all they had left. They were in it for life, regardless of who the president was.
Not me. I was done drinking the Kool-Aid. “Well, in that case, I wish you fellas the best of luck. You let me know how all that shit works out.”
Tex took a deep breath and regarded me with a concerned look.
“It's no secret you want out, Junk. I can imagine you're pretty pissed about the Russian thing. Truth is, we got too many guys down or dead. I can't spare you right now. If you call a vote to leave, I'll make sure you'll lose. And if you run, well... You know what happens. No one wants that,” Tex threatened but it came off like what a concerned parent would tell a kid who reached for the cookies before dinner.
I looked around and realized he was right. I was up against a wall. I had, at most, two guys that I knew had my back but not the rest. Not the new guys. Tex was the club, at least for now.
“Look, you do this and we're square. I'll get you what's owed for your trip to county, plus your cut from this gig and you walk away free and clear,” Tex continued.
I looked at Tex but couldn't find any words that my fists couldn’t say for me. I was pissed. Being out wasn't good enough, I wanted my freedom. I deserved it. I bled for it. I earned it.
Real freedom.
But here I was. A prisoner all over again, just of a different system and a bigger cage. Now I was sure I wanted out of the MC.
“Why?” I asked, but continued before Tex could try to decode the vague question. “Why get in bed with the Legion? Clubhouse got a nice overhaul and it doesn't look like you boys are on the breadline.”
“The C.E. is dying, brother. We got no foothold here anymore. There's push-back on ever
y side by the other crews. We don't get brought into a larger club, and soon, this MC is done.”
I ran my hand over my face and took a minute. Tex and I never saw eye to eye but I understood what he was saying, even with the prospect push, the club was hurting for members. Topeka itself was a dying city. There just wasn't enough love or interest in the club here anymore.
The Coffin Eaters were being taken into the Iron Legion family. It was a much bigger club. If anything, being in the Legion before I walked away meant that I had a much larger support network if I needed help on the outside. If a member left on good terms, he was still protected. I understood; I just didn't like it. I was no one's bitch.
“Alright, so get some Legion down here to help with the ride. I'll hang home and protect the clubhouse and families.”
“This is the rite of passage. Our initiation. We all gotta do this. Word's already gotten out to the surrounding clubs and gangs that if anyone tries anything against us and ours while we're gone, the Legion will crush them. We don't need you home, we need you with us.”
They had me by the balls, there was no getting out of it.
I was on the hook for one last ride.
“Alright,” I said. “If I’m gonna skip out on parole, I might as well have a good story to tell the guys when I get back to prison.” Through the joke and dark smile, Tex could plainly see my anger at him forcing me to do this. My burning eyes told him to watch his fucking back when this was all over.
“Like I said, Junk, it's good to have you back.” He returned the look. There was no love lost between us. “That's it for official business so—”
“I got somethin'. Fell into my lap.” Skids interrupted. All eyes fell on him. Tex motioned for him to continue. “I got us some side work for us to vote on. A girl needs a protected ride to Cali. She's offering twenty thousand but it's gotta be now.”
Conversation and dissenting opinions exploded out of the last-minute bomb Skids dropped on us all. I wondered if that was what he was talking about at the prison. If this was about his ghosts and the girl who showed up at the clubhouse today.
The rest of the guys sounded off.
“Who is this gash?”
“That's a lot of cash for a ride.”
“Right now? We can't split ranks!”
“It's on the way. Fuck it.”
“We don't know her. Turn it down”
The gavel came down. The argument stopped.
“We'll put it up for a vote but I don't think this is a good time for it, Skids.” Tex shrugged in exasperation. It was brought up at the table so it had to be voted on.
“It's good money for somethin' we're doing anyways!” Skids hollered, rising to his feet.
I didn't know if the other guys picked up on it but something was up with this job. Skids was invested in it for some reason and it couldn't just be the money. I knew him better than that. The old bastard was accustomed to living light from his military days.
“What if this bitch is a narc? I'm not willing to risk the coke money and our cred with the Legion over a girl we don't know.” Tex was talking a lot of sense and looking around, I could tell the club was going to side with him on this. “Let's put it to a vote. All...”
Skids saw it too. His eyes flashed with panic and then he abruptly added, “Her name is Maya. She's the daughter of the Hangers MC Pres.”
Everyone looked at each for confirmation on what they all were thinking.
“You're telling me she's the daughter of Iron Legion's largest rival? How do you know this girl?” Tex asked skeptically.
“What matters is that we have an opportunity to hurt the rivals of the club we're trying to get in bed with. If we do the coke mule gig, the Legion will make us a support chapter. We'll be sucking their dick for what? They'll kick us some jobs here and there but we'll be connected to them in name only. If we show them we can hurt their enemies, we'll get a full patch over. That means voting rights, a bigger presence here and help dealing with those pushing in on Topeka.” Skids sat back down and gauged the group.
The old man made a compelling argument. Even Tex had to think that over. “Lets vote. Bring the mystery girl with us? Nay.”
Tex kicked it off then everyone else weighed in.
“No.”
“Yay
“Nay”
“Yeah”
“Of course,” added Skids. His frustration was apparent. He was lying and was trying to play the bluff like he was indignant that they’d question his wisdom.
Skids looked at me expectantly, some growing doubt set into his weary features about whether I'd been able to see through him or not.
I thought it over. Introduce an extremely unpredictable variable into a dangerous run that could potentially get us all a few decades behind bars. Not to mention drawing some crazy heat from the Hangers if they find out the girl is gone and with us, and that was if I believed his story. Any way you sliced it, I thought it was a fucking terrible idea.
“Yay,” I said, pushing down that doubt. For some reason, I could see that this really mattered to Skids. I trusted him. I had to. Despite everything, he had my back, and I needed to have his. That was how this worked. Otherwise, what was the point of it all?
“Motion passes,” Tex said with a disapproving shake of his head. He wasn't pleased. “Make sure she's here on time. I'll be goddamned if I hold us up on her account. Any more business before the gavel falls? No? Good. Let's get the fuck outta here, we got a party to attend.”
“That was close, old man,” I leaned in and told Skids.
“Yeah, it's a good thing you're back home. For however long that lasts.” He was still sore about me leaving. He headed for the door before turning back for me. “I'll keep my end of the bargain.” Then he left, phone in hand.
“Junk. A minute?” Tex asked as everyone else shuffled out. Through the open door I could see the main filling up with old and new faces as the party kicked off. “What was that with Skids?”
“Just hashing out the end game, man.”
“Fair enough. Not all that happy about the way you voted. You just tipped the scales in very unpredictable way. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“What can I say? I get a little unpredictable when blackmail gets thrown around.” Only half the reason I voted against him was spite. The other half was loyalty. Intelligence had to take a back seat this time around.
“Things are a little crazy right now. Lotta moving parts. I need to make sure prison didn't, I don't know, twist you all up. Gotta make sure that the Junkyard I remember is still in there and thinking about what's best for the club in this... sensitive time.” Tex was fishing for info so hard I wanted to check myself for hooks.
“That Junkyard bled out on the floor in a prison shower because his club turned their back on him. Or maybe it was just the new C.E. president that turned his back.”
“Careful,” Tex warned, eying me suspiciously.
“From where I'm sitting, Pres, 'What's best for the club' seems to be... open to interpretation these days.” I swung around to address Tex directly.
“You missed a lot, brother. A little gun running money never would've sustained us. I'm looking at the long haul here. The Coffin Eaters wouldn't have survived without me stepping up.”
“That line of bullshit tuck you in at night? Does it 'finish you off' before bed too?” I made a jerking off gesture at him, then walked over to his chair and sat on the table so I could speak more privately.
“I noticed there are a few more pictures on that wall that shouldn't be there. All of them were real supporters of that Russian deal we set up. What happened, Tex? Some convenient accidents?
“Also found out that you had me kill those two Russians before the deal was off. You used me to help sabotage our relationship with them, then you left me to die by their retaliation. The leadership under Miles looked weak as a result, easy for you to challenge. Especially when you had a new connection to our saviors, the Iron Legion, in your p
ocket.
“Really, a brilliant plan. Gotta say, I'm impressed.” I finished with a mock clap.
Tex mulled it over wondering how I'd connected all the pieces. When you have all the time in the world to work out and think, its easy to do the mental gymnastics. I just needed my suspicions confirmed. Sitting on that kind of betrayal and not knowing would've eaten me alive.
“I love a good fairy tale as much as my kids, Junk.”
“Legion leadership, that what's in this for you? You bring us in to the I.L fold, they get a presence in Kansas and you get...what? They gonna make you a cabinet member?”
“V.P. of the mother chapter. The C. E. has always been a dead end club, a stepping stone.”
“You son of a bitch.” Tex excelled at making connections but not even I thought that he'd be able to swing that kind of sweetheart deal for himself.
“You can't prove any of that, and bringing it to the table right after you get home will make you look spiteful and untrustworthy. Like a prison bitch. Or a snitch.” Tex shifted tones like other people swapped hats. That kind of manipulation just came naturally to him. “Besides,” he said lightening up considerably. “Despite what you think, this is better for everyone. Miles...Skids...the others...they'll finally get to see what the big time is all about.”
“The big time...” The words sat distastefully in my mouth. “That's not why we started all this. When this is over, you just keep your promise and let me walk. Don't make me bust out the coloring book and connect your dots for everyone to see.”
Tex got up and whispered to me, his tone shifting again. “Where the fuck do you think you are, Hendrix? You think you can threaten me? Look around, your club is dead! New members, prospects and hangarounds, I outnumber you now. You live and die on my say so! You're one convenient accident away from being mounted on that wall. You remember that.” He pushed by me, his shoulder hitting mine.
“Welcome home, Junkyard. Don't out stay it.” Tex spat on the floor near me then slammed the door behind him.
I sat there an extra half an hour, taking everything in before joining the rest of the party. He was right. Even with Skids and Miles, my support network had evaporated these last few years. I didn't have much in the way of blood relatives. The ones I did have weren't local.