Jase

by MariaLisa deMora

  “It never occurred to me to worry that you’d hold her job hostage.” Jase pulled a chair out and sat, crossing one ankle over the other knee. “And, I did want to talk to you about the offer.” He laughed. “Didn’t expect you to come all the way to Rockford to have a chat.”

  “Some things are better done in person.” Mason shrugged.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Jase said and sighed. “I’m interested. Very interested, but I have some questions. At the rate I’ve been taking classes, I have less than two years left to finish my degree, three semesters. I want to finish it, and I plan on it, but is this offer contingent upon me finishing, or could I begin working sooner if I wanted? That’s the first question. Second is what exactly would my relationship be with the club? An employee? A member? Do I have to do a probation period, kinda like a rookie hockey season?”

  Mason looked at him and nodded. “Good questions. Easiest one first. You could start tomorrow and never finish your degree. I don’t actually give a shit about that, except if you do. You’re one smart motherfucker, and I don’t doubt you’d do fine as-is. But, the offer to pay for the classes stands, whether you keep going and start work now, keep going and start work later, or keep going and never start work. That’s the easy shit, because I know you, man.

  “Okay, now for the harder question, because, for this, you need a little history lesson.” Mason laughed. “This course credit is free, and there aren’t any prerequisites here. School of hard knocks. The club, we…me...I need men like you, just as I need members with the diverse and specialized skill sets of brothers like Gunny and Tats. Every member of the club, every person associated with it, serves a purpose. There aren’t any free rides, and we all pull our own weight. For me, it’s a matter of matching up pegs and holes.

  “With you, fuck…man, you’re more than halfway into the life already. Look at you and DeeDee being together, and her long history with the club. You go on runs with my men, even help raise money to make us look good. We’ve all seen you protecting members when you can. Hell, a lot more than halfway into the life, I’d say. As far as I’m concerned, you quit being a hangaround the day you borrowed my scoot in Chicago. At that point, you became a friend of the club.

  “But, that said, I don’t want to sidestep our prospect period, because it’s important for a whole lot of reasons. We’ll both need to make sure of the fit, and it gives members time to get to know you…but for you, that period would be different. It will look different from how most of our guys spend their probation. You’ll be learning from Myron more than anyone.

  “Want you to know that even being a prospect doesn’t mean your position in Fort Wayne is contingent upon anything other than doing your fucking job. Think of the club like any other employer. But you need to fucking know what else you’re going to be exposed to, the darker side of our business. These are things most men looking to patch in would already know, but you’re coming at it from a sideways angle. You ready for this part of the conversation?” Mason looked at him steadily, unmoving.

  Jase thought for a moment, then agreed with a nod. “Yeah, I need to make an informed decision. I feel like I know some of what you’re going to say. I’ve seen bits and pieces over the past couple of years, with Mica and Daniel, then since I’ve been with DeeDee.” He shrugged. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

  “Okay, man, listen up. Rebels have three rules. Three key rules that carry the weight of everything we are on their backs. The first one is no whores. We don’t run hookers, don’t allow hooking out of our businesses. Girls can be trouble, and hookers are a magnet for even more. You’ll hear women referred to as club whores, but that’s a different thing. Those’ll be hangarounds looking for a good time so they fuck members, or women looking to hook up with a good old man. Fucking is their preference, and if a brother becomes a problem, I deal. So that’s the first thing.” His gaze never wavered and Jase sat still, soaking it in.

  “Second rule is no hard drugs, and is non-negotiable. No heroin, no meth, no hard shit. Do we sell blow and pot? Fuck yeah. It’s a chapter-by-chapter decision, but there’s a lotta money available in the trade, and helps keep my brothers’ cash flowing in like magic. Some of our guys come to us from other clubs where they are used to that kind of easy money, and it is fucking hard to clear out.

  “Putting a lid on the hard stuff gets us a step farther in what I think is the right direction, even if it’s a slow fucking trip. I’ve slammed the door on chapters for crossing the line, though, so every fucking member understands the risk if they stray.” He stared hard at Jase, nodding, satisfied with whatever he saw in his face.

  “Third rule is no military-grade weapons. Handguns, sawed-off, and some semi-A, yeah. Again, not every chapter wants in on the trade, but some of them pull in most of their non-channel money through resells.” He rolled his shoulders, leaning back and stretching his arms, crossing his wrists on the back of the chair for a moment before he sat upright again.

  “And that’s it, three rules. Everything else is on the table. Brothers wanna line up new shit, they go through me. With every chapter I charter, we’re working our way more into the legal businesses, what I call channels. Bars, strip joints, the bike shops and garages, parts stores, restaurants, motels, clubs…the legal side of things is where I need your help. We need things to be squeaky, so when the feds come calling, we got good books to show them. And that’s it, man. Pretty simple, yeah?” Mason laughed.

  Jase had struggled to keep his face impassive as Mason talked, but by the time he was done, Jase was wrung out from listening. He knew Mason had skipped over some parts, and that was okay; what he laid out was enough to try to wrap his mind around. There were a lot of gray areas to digest. “You must be pretty confident of me to tell me all that,” he said, nervously uncrossing his legs.

  “Not sure of you, no. But I’ve known you long enough to understand you like things straight up, no bullshit. I won’t get a year down the road and have you feeling blindsided because you didn’t know the lay of the land.” Mason shrugged. “Easier to get it all out there now, give you a feel for the size and scope of everything. You know about the businesses in the Fort; this is added volume, but it’s shit that you wouldn’t be responsible for.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “You got any other questions?”

  “What happened in Texas?” The second it was out of his mouth, Jase could have slapped himself for blurting the question. Daniel had talked about the attack on Mica that Mason had stopped, and had speculated as to what the bikers had done with her ex-boyfriend. He watched Mason’s face settle into harsh lines and knew the no-bullshit rule was still in effect.

  “Motherfucker doesn’t breathe her air anymore,” Mason said, clenching his jaw and nodding sharply once.

  “That’s good,” Jase said, surprising himself. He liked Mica a lot, and being witness to how she had blossomed since marrying Daniel was gratifying, because she deserved good in her life. He also liked that it made his friend blissfully content for her to be healthy, happy, and whole. The answer Mason had given him settled comfortably on his shoulders, because it was the right one. It was the answer he most wanted regarding Sharon and her ex, so he understood where Mason was coming from. He got it.

  “So with all that said, you still feeling like you’re on the fence, or did I tip you onto one side or the other?” Mason had settled into stillness again, waiting for an answer.

  “I’ve definitely tipped, but I think we’re both going to be pleased with the direction. I want to finish playing out this season, fulfill my current contract with the Tridents. After that, Mason, I’m all yours. I’ve already talked to DeeDee, and she’s on board with the idea, as I understood it a day ago. But, so we don’t have any crossed wires, here’s what I get from everything we’ve talked about—why don’t you listen and tell me if I’m right or wrong, eh?”

  Mason nodded, so Jase continued, “It sounds like I’d basically be the business manager and CFO for the companies in Fort Wayne. Those prop
erties include Slinky’s, Marie’s, the storage place, Tamari restaurant, that other food place I can’t remember, the two motels, apartment buildings, the bike shop, and the parts place, plus anything I’ve missed knowing about. That’s the extent of my responsibility, to ensure the profitability of the businesses and to manage the documentation and records associated with that cost effectiveness.

  “I want to keep working on my degree, but I can take that slow while I get on track with Myron. I suspect there will be some travel at first, back and forth to Chicago, but my hope would be that could be limited, because I want to stay home with DeeDee and the babies as much as I can. I’ll keep coming to club events with DeeDee as I have been, and there may be additional responsibilities there. We’ll call that TBD, yeah?” He sat back then leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table between them. “Whew, Jesus Murphy, that’s a lot!”

  “Yeah, and DeeDee and Myron have been keeping up with all that on top of everything else. You forgot the gun range and the two pawn shops. Barring playoffs, the season ends in April, right? We get you immediately afterwards, or we could wait until the end of that semester. A couple weeks either way won’t make a difference.” Mason stood, extending his hand.

  Jase unfolded from his chair, reaching for Mason’s hand to shake, and found himself caught in a forearm grip, pulled into a one-armed hug. “Fucking awesome, man,” Mason said and pulled out his phone to make a call. He spoke briefly into the phone, saying, “Yeah, bring it in,” then hung up. He slid the phone into his jeans as he walked towards the entryway, getting there just as there was a knock on the door. Mason opened it while Jase looked on bemused, seeing Slate, Tug, Hoss, Bear, and Gunny walking into the room.

  “Hey,” he said, and stopped talking as Slate stalked across the room towards him, a piece of black leather in his hand.

  Thrusting it into Jase’s hand, he pulled him into a one-armed clinch similar to Mason’s, but he spoke quietly into Jase’s ear. “You’re my prospect, Jase. Make me proud, man.” Slate pulled back and looked into his face. “Put on the colors, brother. Welcome.”

  Stupefied, Jase looked down at the vest in his hand, feeling the weight of the supple leather. He shrugged it on over his long-sleeved shirt, settling the fabric across his shoulders, feeling the heat from his body immediately begin to seep into the garment. “Looks good, brother,” said Slate, reaching out to thump him on the back.

  Jase nodded and grinned, saying, “It feels good.” He pointed at Slate first, then the men in turn. “So my son-in-law, my brother-in-law, and my brothers? I’ve got an awesome fucking family, man.”

  Mason laughed as the rest of the men greeted Jase, each taking a moment to speak to him and remind him of the strength of their existing ties, of his long-time involvement in their lives. Jase shook his head. This had been a long time coming, and he wasn’t kidding; it did feel good.

  ***

  “Lee, I wanted to tell you in person. I’ll be talking to Coach before the season is over, but you deserve to hear it from me,” Jase said, looking straight ahead. They were sitting on a couch along the back wall in the team’s lounge area in the offices, watching as several players reviewed game tapes on the eighty-inch flat screen. There were a couple of tough teams coming up in the next few days, and it paid to be prepared.

  He knew Lee’s eyes were on him, but he kept his face resolutely forward. They had mended their friendship over the past weeks, but with Ree entering the picture again, the two men didn’t spend as much time together as before Lee’s season-ending injury. “Okay, what’s up?” Lee asked, and Jase saw him shift, putting elbows to knees as he leaned forward on the couch.

  “I’m not re-signing with the Tridents. This season is my last as a professional hockey player.” There, he had said it aloud for the first time to someone who would know the immensity of what he was giving up. Not the money, because he would make twice his current salary working for the Rebels, but what it meant to be quitting hockey. Sure enough, Lee took in a harsh breath then blew it out slowly.

  “Not signing? Why the hell not?” His voice rose as he spoke, and across the room, a few of the players looked over at them in confusion.

  “Keep it down, asshole,” Jase shot at him, turning his head to pin him with a stare. “I’m not signing; that’s right. But I want to control when I tell the owners. They’ve been far better than decent to me, and deserve for me to do this the right way.”

  “What the hell?” Lee said, modulating his voice and glancing around the room. “Why would you quit? You’re at the top of your game, worked your fucking ass off to come back from an injury. You couldn’t wait to get back on the ice; I’ve never seen a man push himself harder to recover. Why would you quit?”

  Jase looked down at his feet, then up at Lee. “Because of the injury. It brought home the fact that we never know from week to week if we’ll be playing. Look at you, man. Another couple of hits from Biannac and you’d be wearing a bib, your lunches spoon-fed by a cute candy-striper. I heard Coach talking to Adam. Is it even certain that you’ll be back next year?”

  “No, it’s not,” Lee said easily, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Even if I’m healthy though, I’m considering retiring. Not that Coach knows anything yet, but getting my bell rung like that wasn’t fun. Now that I’ve found Ree again, I can’t imagine being hurt badly.” He paused and sighed, asking, “What will you do?”

  “I have a job lined up,” Jase said quickly. “I’m going to finish my degree, make DeeDee smile, play with the babies, and maybe work with kids as a coach. I’ve been skating with Tyler, the kid from the hospital, and he has a hell of a slap for someone that didn’t come to hockey until after his voice changed. Kid played football, if you can imagine. Travesty.”

  “Sounds like you’re getting everything lined out,” Lee said, reaching a hand over to punch Jase’s shoulder lightly. “More than me, at least. I finished my degree a couple years ago, but don’t know what I’ll use it for yet.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open for you; if anything comes my way, I’ll let you know,” Jase said, resolving to mention it to Mason.

  ***

  Mason looked around the bar, seeing the mix of citizens, Rebels, and Tridents players that filled Marie’s. He twisted to look at the stage and shook his head. Slate’s little brother, Ben Jones, was supposed to play tonight, and it looked like he recruited some help. Along with the standard gear for Benny’s band, Occupy Yourself, he recognized two of Bear’s guitars on stands near the side of the stage. That would be good, because anything that helped continue to pull Bear out of himself was welcome as far as he was concerned.

  “Hey, Gypsy,” he called down the bar, drawing the attention of the member who managed the business for the club. “You know who Ben has playing with him tonight?”

  Shaking his head, the Rebel walked towards Mason. “Not sure, Prez. I saw Bear come in and set up some stuff earlier, but I think Benny is babysitting so Slate and Ruby could go to Jase’s last game. Sorry, I’m not sure.” He shrugged, wiping at the bar top with a rag.

  “No big deal, man.” Nodding, Mason turned to face the room again. Quite a few of his Chicago Rebels had come down for the game, and the bar was filling up quickly. He saw Tug come in, Maggie at his side, and Mason sighed. He liked the fact the man had found some companionship and was pleased, because Tug deserved it after so many years alone, focusing on the club. Mason was all about being happy for him at that level, but goddamn if the man hadn’t picked a citizen to get entangled with. There were few damn ways that would end with everyone happy, even if she was the mother of one of his members.

  He was about to head over to speak to the couple, when there was shouting from the front of the bar, followed by a slow, building applause. The clapping grew louder and spread throughout the room, members and players both turning as they watched someone walking through the crowd. The corner of Mason’s mouth lifted in a half-smile when he saw Jase’s face burning red from the honor. His arm was wrapp
ed around DeeDee’s shoulders, and hers was behind his back. Mason knew from past experience she would have her hand tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. He was glad she finally decided to find her way to a comfortable place with the man, especially after they had such a rocky start.

  As they approached where he stood, some of the Tridents’ players were calling out something, but before he could decipher the phrase, laughter came from beside him. “There you go, Jase. That’s your club name: Captain,” Slate said, and the members who stood nearby laughed.

  Mason nodded and reached out a hand, clasping Jase’s shoulder in his grip. He greeted him, seeing the man’s eyes widen at his immediate adoption of the road name. “Cap’n, you played a good game tonight. Congratulations on the win in the final game. On to the playoffs now, right?”

  “Thanks, Prez,” he said with a grin. “Yeah, that was my last regular game as a Trident, last game as team captain, last game as a carefree, travelin’ man.” DeeDee lightly punched his shoulder and he gasped in pretended surprise. “Sweetheart, where did you come from? Hey, did you know you look a lot like my girlfriend? You remind me of her in all the best ways. Wanna find an empty room and get busy?” She shook her head, leaning against him as he loudly kissed the side of her head.

  A discordant noise from the stage drew his attention from the couple and he turned to see Ben Jones and Bear making their way across the stage, followed by…his son, Chase. What the hell is my boy doing up there with the musicians? Mason frowned, watching Chase pick up one of Bear’s guitars, parking his ass on a stool set along the edge of the stage. He turned to Slate, standing behind him. “You know anything about this, fucktard?”

  Ruby laughed from where she stood next to Slate, tucking her face against his chest. He had slipped an arm around her before he answered, “I might, Prez. I might. But you ain’t gonna find out anything by calling me names. Hell, that shit cuts deep, man.” He was grinning widely as he spoke, and Mason glared at him for a moment, then turned back to watch.