EX-CON

by Scott Hildreth

  “You look like every other biker who passes through these parts,” he responded.

  “She’s five foot six, brown hair, the deepest brown eyes, and the cutest little hands you’ve ever seen…” I said.

  “When’s your anniversary?” he asked, interrupting me as I spoke.

  “Excuse me?” I coughed as my knees went weak.

  I shoved my wallet into my back pocket, grinned, and realized my lower lip was shaking from nothing more than sheer excitement. For him to even ask such a question meant that Em had at least told him about us, and was proud enough of the fact that we were once together to tell him when our anniversary was. Either that or she still wore the necklace. My mind began to race as I fought to come with something to say. One thing I felt I had to know was whether or not she was still single.

  “Is she still single?” I asked as I rubbed my palms against the thighs of my jeans.

  He turned away, and began to walk behind the glass jewelry display case. I realized in the excitement I hadn’t answered his question about our anniversary.

  “June 21st, 2006,” I responded, “And if she ever showed you the necklace I made her, it’s a…it’s a hand-stamped piece of sterling silver…the uhhm…the letters are all upper case…the date is in roman…in roman numerals,” I stammered as he walked away.

  He stopped in his tracks and turned around.

  “Well I’ll be go to hell,” he said as he lifted the brim of his hat.

  “And show it to me? Shit, son, she wore that damned thing every day. Never took it off. Ask me, I think it looked down right stupid, but she sure liked it. You know, she swore one day you’d reappear, in fact she was adamant about it. Drove most men crazy that she went on and on about ya the way she did, but I never minded much. Just never really knew if she believed you was coming back one day, or if she just said ‘cause she wanted to believe it. I figured it mighta been because she just wanted the locals to leave her be,” he paused and tugged against the brim of his hat, “In fact, I found the entire mess to be pretty damned interesting. Now how’s a man, if you don’t mind me askin’, go about breakin’ out of a federal penitentiary?”

  I shook my head and looked for a place to sit. Feeling like I was undoubtedly on the verge of a heart attack, I gazed down at my shaking hands.

  “It’s a long story, but I won an appeal. I’m a free man,” I responded.

  “I’ll be dipped in shit,” he said flatly, “Is that a fact?”

  I nodded my head, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Telephone number. You got her telephone number?” I asked.

  He shook his head as he slowly shuffled toward me.

  “Strange thing about her. She didn’t have one. Hell, in this day and age, everyone has one, but not her. Damned girl hated the government for what they did to ya, and was afraid they’d come after her someday. Had some odd notion they’d track her through the phone or somethin’. Might be why she moved around so much, hell, who knows?” he said.

  “New York or Los Angeles, huh?” I asked as I wiped the sweat from my brow.

  “Sorry I can’t be of much help,” he said as he shook his head and lifted his hat.

  “You’ve been a great help. I’ll find her. Somehow, some way…” I said as I gazed around his shop.

  “I’m sure you will, son,” he said as he reached out and patted me on the shoulder.

  I gazed out the storefront window toward my motorcycle. There was little in my life that meant much to me, but my Em was sure at the top of the list. By the time I got home, I’d have been gone three days, and if I was going to find her, I would no doubt need some help. From what the fellas had said, the Selected Sinners gun business went without any harassment by law enforcement because Slice had the local police on his payroll.

  If anyone could find Em, a cop would sure be that person. And my only way to get a cop to help me would be through Slice.

  “Sorry, I gotta go,” I said.

  “Alrighty, then,” he said with a laugh.

  I extended my hand, “Thank you.”

  “Good luck,” he said as he shook my hand.

  If Emily didn’t have a phone, and didn’t believe in them, finding her would take more than luck, it would take determination.

  And that was something I knew a lot about.

  JACK

  “Goes without saying, and no disrespect intended, Boss, but as far as I’m concerned, I really don’t want anyone knowing about this but you and me,” I said.

  “No shame in loving a woman,” he growled.

  “Didn’t say I was in love,” I said under my breath.

  He leaned back in his seat and tilted it up on the rear legs as he studied me.

  “Didn’t have to,” he said, his mouth curling into a smirk as he spoke.

  I nodded my head once and stared past him as my mind slowly drifted to thoughts of Em. As he began to speak again, I shifted my eyes to meet his.

  “Listen. The decisions we make in life that we don’t have to think about? They’re always the right decisions. And the decisions we contemplate, mull over, and ask the opinions of others?” he paused, dropped his chair onto the floor, and leaned forward.

  “There are two rules I try to live by. Well, actually there’s a whole fucking book of ‘em, but I like these two the most. One, don’t ask a question if you already know the answer. Two, go with your gut,” he leaned his chair rearward again, as if he’d made the point he intended to.

  “You go with your gut on this?” he asked.

  I pursed my lips, clenched my jaw, and nodded my head.

  “Well, your decision’s the right one. Plain and simple. I’ll keep it to myself; you have my word on that. Sure as fuck not much to go on, but let me see what I can find out. Might take a while,” he said as he stood from his seat.

  I stood, nodded my head once, and gave my parting remarks, “Appreciate anything you can do.”

  “Before you get out of here, let me ask you something. You alright?” he asked.

  “I’m solid, Boss,” I responded as I turned around.

  He locked eyes with me and glared. “I know you’re solid. There’s no doubt you’re one stand up motherfucker, Jack, but I want to know if you’re alright. Toad says you barely sleep, and I can vouch for the fact you’re pretty fucking skittish around some of the fellas. Just making sure you don’t need anything.”

  Having a president like Axton was much different than having Sarge as a president. Having never been in another club, and really having no exposure to other presidents and not knowing how they acted, I always assumed Sarge was as good as a man could be. Seeing how Axton handed his men and knowing he perceived their problems as his problems made me feel like I had finally found a place I could truly call home.

  “Just hard to adjust,” I responded with a shrug of my shoulders, “You know, I wasn’t locked up for a year or two; I damned near did a dime.”

  He glared at me for a moment, making me slightly nervous that maybe he didn’t care for my response. Axton was a hard man to read, and rarely showed any expression short of angry. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

  “Good point. Corn Dog did a nickel in state, but that damned sure doesn’t come close to dime in the Pen. If you need anything, you come to me, understand? And I mean anything,” he said.

  “I’ll let you know, Boss,” I said.

  I started to turn away, and paused.

  “Got one more thing, Boss,” I said as I turned to face him.

  “Let’s hear it,” he said under his breath.

  I gazed down at my boots and tried to decide if what I was going to ask would be perceived as disrespectful. I’d already asked who put the money on my books, and thanked Biscuit for doing so. I had not found out who paid for the attorney fees, and after giving some serious thought to the matter, decided someone had to, especially after I reread the letter Avery sent me while I was locked up.

  “Well, I got a box of stuff from the joint the other day, and I wa
s digging through it. Read that letter your Ol’ Lady sent me about my trial again. Then I read it again. Guess what I wanna know is this: who paid all of the fees and shit associated with my trial?” I paused and crossed my arms in front of my chest as I waited for his response.

  “He’d rather remain anonymous,” Axton said flatly.

  “Any promises made?” I asked.

  “What?” he snapped back as if I had no right to ask.

  “Any of the fellas give their word they’d keep their mouth shut about it, or is it just something the Good Samaritan would rather I didn’t find out?” I asked.

  “More the latter,” he responded.

  I gazed down at my boots, held it for a short time, and shifted my eyes upward.

  “Well, we’ve all got our pride, and it’s hard for me to keep from swallowing mine with all of these people helping me out. Fuck, I’m riding that Softy outside and it ain’t even mine,” I complained.

  “I’d appreciate if you’d tell me, so I can thank him and try and pay him back. It’d sure help me out. You know, about that skittish shit you were talking about earlier. Might help me deal with coming back to the free world, Boss,” I said.

  “Well, I can tell you right now, he won’t accept a cent in return. Don’t know the man real well myself, but your soon to be brother-in-law does, and I know of him well enough to say he won’t be interested in your money,” he paused and rubbed the stubble on his face with his fingertips.

  “Let’s say this. How about you agree to thank him in private, they’ll be up here in a month on a little visit. They’re heading up to a rally in Wisconsin,” he said.

  “Agreed,” I said, “Who is he?”

  “He’s actually the Heavyweight Champion of the World in boxing. Shane Dekkar. His Marine buddy is the one that Toad took a bullet for down in Austin. The Marine is originally from here, and him and the rest of his ratty little do-gooder MC will be riding up to a rally in Wisconsin next month. They’re stopping in to see Toad, should be about month give or take a day or two. I’ll keep you posted, how’s that?” he asked.

  “Heavyweight Champion, no shit, huh?” I asked.

  “One strange motherfucker, but tough as fuck,” he said with a nod, “I’m guessing you didn’t keep up on that shit in prison?”

  I shook my head and laughed, “Didn’t let us watch fights, said they’d evoke a riot.”

  “Figures,” he said, “That it?”

  I nodded my head and extended my hand.

  He shook my hand and hugged me, which made me feel a little more comfortable about everything. It made me nervous speaking to Axton without someone there to witness our conversation, but I knew I had to talk to him alone - at least about this particular subject. Still stuck in my prison way of thinking, I feared talking to anyone of authority without a witness. In prison, any time an inmate talked to a cop about anything, another inmate would be asked to witness it. If an inmate went alone, it was automatically assumed his conversation was a secret, and he was labeled a snitch.

  I walked out through the shop, glanced around for any of the fellas, and after seeing no one, started my bike and rode home.

  With Sydney at work and Toad gone doing whatever it was he did all day, I went into my bedroom and pulled my box of letters out from under my bed. Within a few minutes, I had all of them spread out on the floor. My life, so to speak, for the last ten years, was in front of me in a pile. It seemed strange now that I was out of prison, but ten years of my life was able to fit in two shoe boxes.

  And I felt empty.

  JACK

  I stood in the shop nervously sipping my beer. It had been two weeks, and I hadn’t heard a word about Em. I’d spent considerable time on the internet searching for her name and any association with a restaurant named Jackson’s and all I was able to find was the restaurant in Albuquerque. All but convinced she had moved away to some secluded area with a man, I recalled that I never got a response from the old man regarding whether or not she was single.

  I began to feel weak from my feeling of necessity. After doing a reasonable amount of reading on the internet about being released from prison, I decided I was institutionalized, and no differently than any other prisoner, had to focus on something to keep my mind under the false belief that I had a routine.

  I had been taken to breakfast, lunch, and dinner for ten years at the exact same time every day. We were locked down for count at the same exact time every day and locked down at night at the exact same time every night. Lights out at the same time, every night, for ten years.

  In prison, my entire life was a routine. I didn’t have to think, all I had to do was survive.

  And now, living in the free world, I was obsessed with finding Em. Partially, I suspected, because I needed to focus on something. And more so because I was truly in love with her and would never be able to live my life fully unless she was in it.

  If I had never met her, things would have been totally different.

  But having had her in my life and realizing what love actually was prevented me from living every moment without yearning to have that feeling again. A feeling that only Em could provide.

  As Toad and Otis stood and talked, I stared blankly at the floor and tried to assemble a routine to provide my day with a little structure. I was already working out with weights for an hour and a half a day, and almost an hour and a half was taken up with meals, leaving sixteen hours of unscheduled activity in my day after my five hours sleep.

  A set of keys on the shop floor beside a Wide Glide caught my attention. After glancing around the shop nervously, I bent down and picked them up. A short study of the keys made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I glanced around the shop, studied each of the men individually, and didn’t recognize anyone.

  I tossed the keys right back where they were.

  “We need to go talk to the boss,” I said, interrupting their conversation.

  “Alright, gimme a minute,” Otis said.

  I shook my head, “Right now.”

  “Well, just go in there if you need him right now,” Toad said.

  I shook my head. “Need someone with me. So both of you want to go in there with me?”

  Toad glanced at Otis, shifted his eyes to me, and shrugged. “If you really think we need to.”

  I swallowed heavily and nodded my head. “Same as going to talk to the cops in the joint far as I’m concerned. You never go alone to talk to the man. Always go in pairs, that way nobody can start the he said she said shit. I just want witnesses.”

  Otis tossed his head toward the office. “Come on.”

  I followed them in the office and as they sat down, I began pacing the floor, half afraid to say anything, but more afraid not to. Part of me wanted to hop on my bike and ride to a secluded place where no one would ever find me, but I’d never avoided a good fight in my life and I didn’t think now was a time to start. As I stared at the floor and paced back and forth, Axton’s voice caused me to glance up.

  “You alright, Big Jack?” he asked.

  “Be fine, Boss. Just thinking,” I responded.

  I pulled out a chair and sat down.

  I locked eyes with Axton and spoke. “Permission to speak candidly?”

  Axton broke my gaze, shifted his eyes to Toad, then Otis, and back

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Axton asked as he stood from his seat.

  I stood nervously.

  “Sit the fuck down, you pricks are making me nervous. What the fuck’s going on here?” he asked.

  “Sure, whatever. Speak freely,” he snapped.

  I inhaled a deep breath, exhaled, and said what I had to.

  “Think we’ve got a cop in the club, Boss,” I said flatly.

  Axton narrowed his eyes and glared. “What the fuck are you talking about? There ain’t a cop patched in in this MC, I can guarantee you that much. Now why the fuck are you saying this, you nervous motherfucker? What the fuck happened?”

  I stood from
his seat and began pacing.

  “Sit the fuck down,” Axton demanded.

  “Sorry, Boss. I got to stand. Hear me out, okay?”

  “Fuck it, I guess you can walk. And I’m fucking listening,” he said.

  “Well, when I was in the joint, we had cops that took us to the hole in the elevator when we got a write up. They had this special key, it looks like one of them round keys for a soda machine, but it’s about half inch longer. Elevator repairmen have ‘em too, but that’s about it. It lets you stick the key in the elevator, turn on an override, and make it go to the roof or the basement or whatever. Now when I was in court the first time, and the second time for that matter, I saw the same thing. The US Marshall and the ATF fellas that took me to court in the beginning, and again the other day, they both had ‘em. They had to put ‘em in the elevator to get down to the basement to their cars. There are only a couple of elevator manufacturers, Dover and Otis. Most of the keys say one of those two names on ‘em…”

  “God damn it, Big Jack, get to the point,” Axton interrupted.

  “That fella they call Gunner, Boss. He’s got one of them keys on his key ring. It says Dover on it for sure, I looked at it. And unless he’s repairing elevators on the side, he’s probably a fed or a prison guard,” I said.

  Toad jumped up from his seat, clenched his jaw, and began to walk toward the door. “I fucking knew it. Phony ass piece of lying shit. Motherfucker says he was in the shit, I never trusted his phony ass.”

  “Sit the fuck down, Toad. God fucking damn,” Axton bellowed, “Hell, he’s been here for years, he can’t be a cop. Who vouched him in the club?”

  “Don’t need the book, Slice. I can tell you who vouched him in,” Otis said.

  “Who?”

  “Hollywood,” Otis said.

  “Fuck!” Axton screamed as he kicked the table.

  Axton exchanged glances with each of us, sighed, and kicked the table again.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he seethed as he turned around, “Who’s that cock sucker run with?”