by Harley Stone
It didn’t matter what I did, the man I was hopelessly in love with was forever out of my reach.
“What?” Stocks asked. Reaching over, he slid the phone out of my hand and spun the screen around so he and Monica could see it. “Oh. Holy shit.”
Yes. The holiest of shits.
Eyes wide, Monica looked from the phone to me and back to the phone. “Ohmigod. Bull’s dead girlfriend is your doppelgänger.”
Yep. My life sucked. I dropped my forehead to the hard wooden table and silently admitted defeat.
3
Bull
EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT, the Dead Presidents held a weekly meeting referred to as church. Unless your ass had a rock-solid reason for missing it, attendance was mandatory and the business we discussed was considered sacred. Unlike other motorcycle clubs, we didn’t participate in illegal shit like running drugs or guns, but we still valued privacy and followed basic club protocol. Nothing said within the walls of our chapel left the room, an assurance that made it easier for brothers to share ideas and air grievances with abandon.
This room was where the club had first voted to do whatever it took to find struggling veterans.
A lot of impromptu therapy had taken place within these walls.
A couple fights had broken out.
Once, I’d even fallen asleep in a pew, waiting for brothers to work their shit out so the meeting could be released. Nobody left until everyone could shake hands and walk out side-by-side, like brothers. It felt a lot like a giant, barely functional family.
I’d grown up in a small family. Dad managed a warehouse, and Mom volunteered at the church. They were solid people who worked hard and prayed harder. I was a good kid who did what I was supposed to do, and they mostly left me to it. I loved and respected the hell out of my parents, but we never really connected.
My relationship with my sister wasn’t any better. Four years my senior, she never wanted to leave the safety of our small, familiar hometown and couldn’t understand my dreams of joining the Navy and sailing around the world. Now happily married, with a baby on the way, we couldn’t be further apart if I lived on the fucking moon.
Shit was never supposed to be so strained between us, but Amber’s suicide, and my reaction to it, changed everything.
My carefully planned four years of service, travel, and self-discovery before I settled down with my high school sweetheart to start my own family came to a screeching halt. I couldn’t see past the insults hurled at my dead fiancé by a man who was supposed to be my brother-in-arms. Unable to cope with losing her, I tried to kill him and landed myself in the brig. My refusal to apologize and get my shit together got me tossed out of the service on my ass. No matter. I had no regrets, and if I ever saw that motherfucker again, I’d break more than a few ribs and an arm.
My family expected me to come home, but Shiner, Texas held too many memories of the life I’d lost. I couldn’t face Amber’s parents any more than I could face my own. Hell, even my conversations with Mom and Dad were nothing but surface bullshit as we talked about the weather and news, dancing around the giant fucking elephant in the room between us like it was our goddamn job.
I couldn’t go home.
Branded as a loose cannon with a dishonorable discharge, opportunities weren’t exactly beating down my door.
My Grandpa had met Link’s dad, Jake, the former president of the club, during his stint in the Army. When I had nowhere to go, Gramps reached out to Jake and secured a place for me in a veteran only motorcycle club in fucking Seattle, Washington. I thought Gramps was off his rocker when the plane ticket showed up in my email, but it turned out he knew exactly what he was doing. The biker lifestyle was just the culture shock I needed, and their acts of community service helped me to see that even a dishonored sailor with a dead future could still do some good in the world.
Here, I had people, and a goddamn purpose I could get behind.
And, I had Lily. Or, at least I’d had Lily before she’d told me off and stormed out of the Copper Penny. Tugging my phone from my pocket, I opened my messaging app and reread our last conversation.
Lily: Is it just me, or is the word asleep really weird? No other word in the English language adds an a to the beginning of a verb to turn it into an adjective. I mean, you’re not ‘anap’ or ‘aeat.’
Me: I was ‘anap’ before you sent me this bizarre text. Where do you come up with this shit?
Lily: What can I say, I’m a thinker. We still on for tonight?
She was always sending me shit like that, and I kept every last message. We usually texted multiple times a day, but my phone had been quiet since Thursday. I wished I could go back in time and cancel our get-together. Then things between us could go back to the way they were before.
Lily was my closest friend, and I missed her random, crazy ass so damn much.
“Any other old business?” Link asked from the front of the room where he was seated with the rest of the board.
When nobody spoke, our president nodded. “The floor’s open for new business.”
I’d been sitting by the back door, waiting for this very moment. As if I needed an additional cue, Wasp, the club’s vice president, grinned, and waved at me. Being the observant bastard he was, Link picked right up on our unspoken communication. I could feel the president’s gaze burning up my back as I headed out into the hall to retrieve the loaded dolly Wasp had hidden in the janitor’s closet. I returned just in time to catch the tail end of whatever other new business the club had coming up.
“Morse will be updating our website with the information later this week for individual donations,” Link said, standing at the end of the executive table like he always did when he had something important to share. “Eagle’s starting a list of volunteers who can make the rounds to local businesses to pick up donations. If you’ve got time to help, get your name on that fuckin’ list. I know I don’t have to tell you all this, but when we make deliveries, I want all hands on deck. It’s good for the community to see your ugly mugs and know not every motherfucker on a sled is a goddamn degenerate.”
He was talking about our annual toy drive. It was one of several community driven events we took part in every year. The biker stereotype was real, and we fought tooth and nail to break it. When I first became a prospect, I asked Link why he led a motorcycle club if he didn’t want to be typecast as a one-percenter. He looked at me like I was a special breed of moron and explained that riding was in his DNA. Running guns and drugs wasn’t. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.
I didn’t understand what he meant until I made my first club ride up to Canada to visit an ally club. There was nothing in the world like the wind in your face and the open road under your tires, surrounded by brothers who had your back no matter what. I’d never felt so goddamn alive and accepted in my life.
Being a biker wasn’t about breaking laws, it was about freedom and family.
After the months I’d spent locked up in the Naval Consolidated Brig, I never thought I’d feel those gifts again. I sure as hell wasn’t worthy of them.
“What else we got for new business?” Link asked, giving me and Wasp the side-eye. Wasp was always trying to get a rise out of the prez, and the sheet-covered package in my possession looked hella suspicious.
“Oh, I got something for you, brother,” Wasp replied, making his words sound all levels of threatening. He stood and gestured me forward, grinning like the ringmaster of his own personal circus. Not sure what that made me. Probably a fucking trained monkey for helping him with this crazy idea. “Come on, Bull, what are you waiting for? Bring it up here.”
Everyone turned and watched as I rolled my covered offering up the aisle between the packed benches. Whispers and the occasional chuckle drifted around the room as people speculated about what Wasp was up to now. The left wheel squeaked loudly, and I winced.
“Jesus, Wasp,” Eagle, the club’s secretary swore. “You’d think our head bike mechanic could figure out how to
grease a fuckin’ wheel.”
“Just adds to the anticipation,” Wasp replied with a wink.
By the time I reached the board table, Link had his arms folded, and was scowling at Wasp. “This better not be another fuckin’ waste of club time.”
Wasp considered it his personal duty to keep the prez grounded and humble, and he didn’t give a shit whose time he wasted in doing it. Hoping I wasn’t about to get my ass kicked for my role in the VP’s latest antics, I rolled the dolly to a stop beside him and got the hell out of there, putting as much distance between myself and the prez as possible. As I sat, Wasp grabbed the sheet and tugged, dramatically revealing his surprise.
It was a wooden podium. Wasp had found it on some used furniture site. It had been beaten to hell and ready for the recycle bin, but the wood was sturdy. Wasp had tasked me with the project, and I’d tightened a few screws, sanded, stained, and sealed the distressed pine, and banded it with a steel frame to cover the dents and cracks of old age. Now it was a beautiful piece of furniture, complete with an angled top, electrical chase, and two interior shelves.
I’d never considered furniture restoration to be in my wheelhouse, but I felt nothing but pride as I looked over my work.
Link’s eyes were full of appreciation and apprehension as he eyed the piece. “A preacher’s podium?” He arched an eyebrow at Wasp. “It’s beautiful, but what the fuck is it for?”
Wasp grinned. “Figured since you like preaching at us so much, you should have your own pulpit, Prez.”
Ah, the punchline. Wasp couldn’t help himself. Laughter erupted around the room as our vice president egged the room on.
Link glared at Wasp for a solid minute. Then the corner of his lips slid up into a smirk. Shaking his head, he replied, “Such a fuckin’ wiseass.”
“What?” Wasp asked, positioning the podium a few feet away from the table, facing the room. “Fuckin’ helpful is what I am. I saw a need and I took care of it. Downright thoughtful. Resourceful even.” Wasp smacked the wood and the hollow sound echoed. “Bull, I can’t believe how good this looks. Bet it didn’t even look this good brand new. You got a gift, brother.”
His praise felt like too much. I ducked my head and thanked him.
“Get up here, ol’ man.” Wasp gestured Link over. “You wouldn’t want all of Bull’s hard work to go to waste, now, would ya?”
Link reluctantly joined Wasp behind the podium. He ran his hands over the wood and nodded to me. “You did a fine job, Bull.”
More praise I didn’t know what to do with. “Thank you.”
Wasp grinned. “You look good up there, Preach, er… I mean, Prez.”
“Amen,” Havoc, the club’s sergeant at arms, added straight-faced.
More snickers floated around the room.
Having grown up in church, I’ve seen my share of preachers. With long hair and covered in tats, Link didn’t remotely fit the image. “Bunch of fuckin’ clowns,” he muttered, but he stayed behind the podium. “Now, can we quit the bullshit and get back to business?”
Wasp took his seat and gestured for Link to continue.
“Anybody got any real new business?” Link asked. When there was no answer, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed something into it before returning his attention to the group. “Nobody? All right. I’ve got something. We have a visitor who wants to check the club out before he throws his hat in to become a prospect. He was stationed out of Fort Lewis.”
“Army or Air Force?” Buddha asked. Officially known as Joint Base Lewis-McChord, the base located just south of Tacoma housed both military branches. Since it was originally an Army only base, most of the locals and old timers still referred to it as Fort Lewis.
“Army,” Link replied.
The door opened, and a dark-skinned man peered in. His gaze scanned the room before landing on Link. “Permission to enter?”
Oh yeah, this guy was fresh out of the service.
“Come on in.” Link waved him forward. “We’re pretty relaxed around here. Just a bunch of assholes cracking jokes and shit as I’m tryin’ to lead church.” To the group, he added, “Dead Presidents, meet our prospective prospect, Tavonte Jones.”
“Tay is fine,” Tavonte replied as he paused by the board table.
“Why don’t you come up here and tell us a little about yourself?” Link asked.
Tavonte marched up to the podium and Link stepped aside, giving him room. “What do you want to know?” the newcomer asked.
“Where you’re from, family details, what your job was, any skills or shit. Whatever you want people to know about you.”
Tavonte took a moment, and answered, “I was born and raised in Nashville. My mom and my little sister are still there.”
“And your dad?” Link asked. His eyes had softened, making it clear he knew the answer and it was a rough one.
Tavonte didn’t reply.
“Go ahead,” Link urged. “We’re all family here. We keep no secrets.”
“Except Tap,” Morse blurted out.
Everyone but Tap laughed. The former intelligence officer flipped Morse off.
When the room grew quiet, Link nodded to Tavonte.
“Army,” Tavonte answered. “He died in Somalia when I was a baby. I don’t remember him.”
Someone swore.
“Damn shame,” Havoc said.
Tavonte looked uncomfortable. Link watched him, as if waiting for more details, but Tavonte kept his mouth closed.
Jake stood, his eyes full of emotion. “We understand and appreciate your family’s sacrifice. We’re glad to have you here, brother.”
Jake’s brother had joined the service alongside him, but he never came home. Still officially listed as MIA, Link’s uncle’s disappearance had been the driving force behind the formation of the Dead Presidents MC. They say the hardest part of serving is coming home. Jake wanted to create a safe place for people like his brother to come home to, so they wouldn’t have to fight this battle alone.
Link must have finally recognized Tavonte’s discomfort and took pity on him. He stood and clapped the man on the back. “Tay here served as a 91B.” For those of us who weren’t Army, he added, “A wheeled vehicle mechanic. Bull, tomorrow can you show him around the shop before your shift starts?”
I usually went into work early and sat around trying not to think about Lily until it was time to take the tow truck out. Showing the new guy around would be a welcome distraction. “Yessir.”
“Good. Let’s adjourn for the night and go show this young buck a good time.” Link picked up the gavel and hit the table, releasing us.
Everyone stood and drifted toward the front of the room where they congregated around Tavonte, asking him questions and welcoming him to the club. The guy looked a little shell shocked, and I didn’t want to add to the chaos around him, so I slipped out of the meeting.
Located in a renovated old fire station, the clubhouse was a massive building. The main floor held the chapel, offices, bathrooms, an industrial kitchen, and a common area full of sofas, televisions, pool tables, dart boards, and a fully stocked bar. The chaos in the chapel would eventually drift down the hall to the common area, where drinks would be poured, stories would be shared, and shit would get loud. Glad to be ahead of all that, I made a beeline for the bar.
A few ol’ ladies were sitting around chatting on the sofas, waiting for their men to emerge. I didn’t have to even look to know Lily was in the group. I could feel this fucked up connection we shared pulling me toward her. I ignored it for as long as I could before giving in and glancing in her direction. Hard glares stared back at me. Lily had no doubt filled them in on what happened between us last night, and now I was in deep shit with the broad squad.
Great. Just what I fucking needed.
Sure, they were only looking out for Lily, but dammit, so was I. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized allowing Lily to flirt with me over the past two years had been like leading her on. I
t wasn’t fair to either of us. The best thing I could do now was to lock that shit down and make it clear we had no future. It would be hard as hell, but I’d manage. I had to, or I’d go fucking crazy and do something unforgivable like fuck her senseless. Then shit would get really complicated. Doing my best to ignore them, I slid onto a barstool.
Shari, one of the club whores, was manning the bar. She greeted me with a smile, for which, I was grateful. Either news of my misdeeds hadn’t reached her, or she was staying neutral. “Hey, Bull, what can I get you?” she asked.
“Just a beer, please.”
She reached into the fridge and retrieved a local Belgian. Popping the cap, she handed the bottle over and leaned close. Lowering her voice so only I could hear, she said, “Better watch yourself. I think the ladies are plannin’ your funeral.”
Feeling the heat of their glares, I made a conscious decision not to look over my shoulder and nodded. “Surprised you didn’t spit in my beer or something.”
Her smile widened. “I’m neutral in all matters of war and the heart. Just call me Switzerland.”
Tilting my bottle toward her in salute, I said, “Thank you, Switzerland,” before taking a drink.
“You betcha.”
The common area started filling up. I turned on my stool and watched as Havoc strolled in. He went straight to the sofas and kissed Julia on the forehead before taking his son from her. Link and Eagle weren’t far behind. When I’d first prospected, the club didn’t have a single child in it. Now, we needed a fucking daycare.
My gaze involuntarily drifted to Lily. Fuck. My resolve hadn’t even lasted a full ten minutes, but I couldn’t help it. I clearly had a type, and she matched it. Seated on the sofa beside Monica, I could only see from her shoulders up, but it was enough to knock the wind out of me. She was so damn gorgeous I couldn’t force myself to look away. Watching the couples with their babies, her eyes filled with longing, reminding me of why I couldn’t be with her.