by K. J. Dahlen
He took a few more deep drags of his cigarette, trying to let his mind travel to a place where it could calm down….riding his bike on the open road.
Stubbing out his cigarette, he pulled the window shut and grabbed his leather jacket off of his bed. He stopped to look at himself in the standing mirror before leaving the room. He’d changed since he’d first joined the MC. Ripped might be the word for his body. Arms like steel bands. Dark hair and startling blue eyes. He stood at 6 foot two and was built like a brick wall. Gone was the skinny, lean kid who’d rode into the club in a stolen car while running from the cops.
On his way out of the apartment, he took one last swig of his now cold morning coffee, grabbed his keys and sunglasses, then made his way out of the front door of his apartment.
The vote of his brothers was out of his hands. On the day of the election meeting, his fate would be decided. Jaxson could only hope things wouldn’t come to blows between himself and Antonio.
2
Outside, the air was still and sharp. Jaxson mounted his bike, slid the key into the ignition, and cranked the engine. As it roared to life, he felt the same sparks of excitement fly through his body, the same way he’d felt on that first ride as a younger man. He loved it. He sped out of the parking lot and out onto the street. The road was calm and quiet, just how he liked it. As he revved the engine more he felt free and alive; a surge of adrenaline coursed through his blood. Riding would always be his salvation—the perfect exhilarating escape. It was no wonder his passion for bikes had become an obsession over the years.
Ten minutes later, he slowed to pull into the car-parking-lot outside of the clubhouse building. He looked left and right at the other bikes to see who was here. Six of the guys were already inside, and that included Antonio. Fucking great… He took off his sunglasses, dismounted, and headed towards the entrance.
When Jaxson stepped into the dimly lit room, and even now in this early hour, it was filled with choking smoke. The smell of cigarettes and old liquor hung in the air. Heavy metal music was blaring out of two large speakers that sat on either end of the counter of the bar that covered one side of the room.
Goddamn it. Not today.
He coughed and grabbed a stool from the workbench to his left and propped the outside door open, to air out the room. With the raging noise in the place, none of the guys had noticed him come in yet. Half sat tinkering with parts for their bikes, the others sipping black coffee at the bar and talking to Kelsey, Antonio’s girl.
Jaxson’s eyes darted quickly around the room and locked down on Antonio at the bar‒his mind sharply trying to assess the degree of potential danger. He knew to expect trouble. There was too much background noise to discern what Antonio was talking about‒but for now–he seemed to be in a pleasant and calm enough mood.
He turned his head to the three guys at a workbench just ahead of him and cleared his throat. “Didn’t I tell you fella’s Bruno was coming in today?” Jaxson asked, sternly.
One of the men jolted, then quickly alerted the others to Jaxson’s presence. In a matter of seconds, all six pairs of eyes looked up at him. They froze for a moment.
“I fucking cleared this place out yesterday.” His footsteps echoed as he walked across the room, thrusting open a window and the doublewide doors that lead to the back of the shop at one end of the main room, to ventilate the clubhouse.
“I did tell you not to smoke in here. Tidy this place up. And open another window for Christ’s sake! Bruno will be here at eleven am.”
“Sorry, boss,” a few of them muttered as they jumped up, snubbing out their cigarettes and shuffling their things around, keeping conversation to a minimum. The music stopped a few seconds later.
Jaxson exhaled deeply and glanced around the room again, inspecting the place before sitting down on the old sofa in one corner. He tried to relax a little, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.
From the corner of his eye, he could see that Antonio hadn’t moved to help the others. Fucking typical. Over the past few months, he’d become increasingly bitter and uncooperative. Still sat on his barstool on the far side of the room, back turned, it was apparent Antonio was trying to make a point.
“Lazy bastard,” Dino, Jaxson’s friend whispered as he carried a chair past.
“Ignore him. A reaction is what he wants,” Jaxson replied.
“Well, he sure is asking for it. Boy, he’s so smug, sitting there, still smoking, like he doesn’t answer to anybody…like he doesn’t give a shit who sees him doing it. If De Luca could see him now….” Dino made a cut-throat motion across his neck. He put down the chair and rolled his eyes.
“Would suit him to put those smokes down for once,” Jaxson commented, in a hushed tone.
“Yeah, maybe the fucker would eat something,” Dino mocked with a deep chuckle, eyeing Antonio’s lanky frame up and down. It seemed extraordinary to them that the great Bruno De Luca could have a son that wound up like looking this. It might be a petty thing to say, but it was the truth.
“Seeing as Antonio is a brother, we’ll treat him with respect,” Jaxson replied.
Dino nodded.
Jaxson didn’t say another word. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let Antonio work him up today. It didn’t take a lot to set Antonio off. The man was the unstable type with a ferocious temper. And today, wasn’t a good day to be setting him off.
Antonio was a short, string bean of a man – 5’8 or 5’9 – with a terrier-like temper and a pretty face; nothing like his father, and certainly no match for Jaxson. Numerous times in the past, Antonio had blown up with violence far beyond the scale of anything used by the rest of the group.
“That cocksucker. Look at that smug grin still on his face, acting like you don’t even exist,” Dino commented in disgust.
Jaxson glanced up at the clock and took one last look around the room; Bruno would be here any moment. His eyes unwillingly drifted back to Antonio. At least he could see his face now, as he teased and flirted with Kelsey behind the bar. Jaxson noted that he was casting an eye in his direction every 20 seconds or so.
That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Seen that bruise on her cheek?” Dino asked
Jaxson’s eyes widened and he felt his blood start to boil with rage. “How the fuck did that happen?”
“Antonio gave that to her last night when we were out. The guys heard him, screaming, shouting, calling her a whore,” Dino whispered.
“Son of a bitch. He makes me so mad!” Jaxson growled. “Men don’t need to be hitting women. That just isn’t right.” Jaxson took a deep breath and stood up. He grabbed stacks of empty pizza boxes, crushed beer cans, and empty cigarette boxes that somebody had so kindly taken the time to drop down the back of the sofa, and threw them into the trash. Anything to distract himself and break down the fire of adrenaline burning up his insides.
“Shit. If he was any kind of man…..” Jaxson’s instincts screamed at him to go over there and tear his head off.
But the both of them know they couldn’t get involved. As Antonio’s girl, she was fundamentally – in practical terms completely – off limits to all of them.
“I want nothing more than to make him fucking pay.” Jaxson sneered.
3
The steel latch of the oak door closing behind De Luca made a loud clatter, shattering the silence in the room. Bruno stepped through the clubhouse doors. He was a big man, six-foot-six inches, and 280 pounds. He wasn’t just large; he was easily two times bigger than any of the other men. A master of men, he was solid muscle, with the physique of a competitive bodybuilder. You’d never guess he was in his early sixties. His sheer size and strength, coupled with his shark-like ruthlessness in business earned him the reputation of being called the Giant Killer.
The epitome of an alpha-male, De Luca was the super-volcano that sat at the top of the brotherhood’s hierarchy. He had a stoic, confident air; rarely had a man been so at ease with his greatness as Bruno. As h
e stepped through the main room, his footsteps echoed as his feet struck the floor.
The clubhouse fell silent.
He glanced over at Jaxson.
“Good morning, Boss. How you keeping?” Jaxson broke the silence as he held out his hand to meet Bruno’s.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Bruno replied, his voice deep, gruff and husky from years of smoking abuse. “How ‘bout you Jax?” He shook Jaxson’s hand with a crushingly firm grip.
“I’m fine,” Jaxson answered, warmly.
“Got a minute, Jax?” he asked.
Jaxson nodded and followed behind him. He wasn’t the only one to notice that Bruno had ignored Antonio and focused on Jaxson.
The pair made their way down the hall to the office. As they passed Antonio at the bar, Jaxson caught a glimpse of him.
The man looked enraged, one leg shaking with tension against the leg of his stool, one hand gripped firmly around his glass, his fingers tightened into a fist around it, both his eyes fixed on his rival, glaring like lasers into Jaxson.
Shit.
They stepped into the office to talk without being overheard. Inside, Bruno took a bottle of the states coveted whiskey out from the old mahogany cabinet that sat behind his desk. Jaxson sat at the opposite side of the desk to face from him.
“Big day coming up on Friday. How you feeling?” Bruno asked in his usual, direct fashion as he poured them both a shot.
“Ok.” Jaxson paused for a moment and took a breath. “I’m feeling ok,” he repeated.
Bruno narrowed his eyes at him. “Alright. What does that mean?”
Before Jaxson could respond, Bruno answered for him, “You’re nervous. Understandable.” Bruno took a sip of his whiskey and sat back in his chair.
Jaxson did the same—thinking he really should’ve put something in his stomach this morning.
“You know.” Bruno exhaled thoughtfully. “My whole life is this club. Everything I’ve built, it’s my whole legacy - my brother’s whole legacy. I need to know that the Black Devils will be safe.”
Jaxson gave a heavy sigh and ran a hand across the back of his neck with the weight of the imminent pressure bearing down on him. He never did see himself as a leader.
Bruno sensed he would need reassurance. “The youngest prospect I ever had. You gained your patch faster than any of them. Just shy of three months and you did it‒pretty much unheard of in your position. You never once complained; never failed neither, didn’t matter what I threw at you.”
Jaxson stared up at him, but didn’t say a word–he only nodded.
Bruno got to his feet and stepped up close to the wall on his right. It was lined with square picture frames that made the office look more like a place of the past than one of the future. Inside the frames, his most beloved friends, and relations, all passed, of course. Bruno stared, motionless for a moment, at the picture a smiling woman in the frame closest to his desk. “My old lady always did have a soft-spot for you; like a lost boy she wanted to save.”
By coincidence, at the time when Bruno had taken Jaxson on, his wife had just had a second miscarriage. Bruno and she had been heartbroken. When she lost her unborn baby, she gravitated toward Jaxson, and cared for him as her own. As a consequence, both Jaxson and the MC flourished.
“Fed you and washed your clothes till you got on your feet, you remember?”
Fucking great…he’s bringing guilt into this?
Bruno continued, “Took you in, accepted you as our own, brought you into my own home to eat at my own table. Let you never forget!” he said, firmly. “God rest her soul.” With that, Bruno bowed his head.
“I’ll never forget,” Jaxson replied. He rested his head on his hand, his eyes dropped down to the desk, feeling numb as he remembered the woman whom he’d loved like a mother. And she had loved him as a son – as her eldest son.
There was only one problem with that perfect and rosy picture – it was false! It hardly needed to be pointed out that Antonio loathed that affection; he felt Jaxson had taken his place in the family. Aware of his mistakes when he came to work for Bruno’s club, Antonio blamed his limitations on a lack of attention from his parents. He felt Jaxson had stolen that away from him in the early days of the club; it was all Jaxson’s fault that he was far less capable.
Who could blame him? After all, Bruno and his late wife both fanned the flames and basked in the glow of the club’s love affair with their new superstar –Jaxson. The result of this constant onslaught of affection was deep and bitter jealousy; the symptoms – Antonio’s violent outbursts and uncooperativeness. Then, adding fuel to the fire, he wasn’t even considered in the run-up to the election to be president of his own family’s club.
“Antonio sure is lucky that he’ll have you around when I’m gone. The kid never was the same since his mother died,” Bruno remarked.
Jaxson suppressed an eye roll. Kid? He’s 23 years old – Jaxson was more of man as a 17-year-old prospect than Antonio was even today. Antonio didn’t want to live in the adult world; he was all about having a good time, and Jaxson hated that type of laziness.
The faint sound of muffled shouting came from the other room. It didn’t sound like shouting, but it had to be—to be heard all the way from the office. They didn’t have to guess who it was.
The pair peered through the gaps of the interior blinds.
Antonio had Kelsey’s arm gripped tightly between his fingers. He had that unnerving look of mad-man-like aggression on his face he would get right before he erupted explosively. Lunging over the bar, he yelled violently, pointing his finger at Marco‒one of the clubs most loyal and original members.
Unfazed, Marco shook his head and buried his hand in his pocket, searching for his cigarette box, and walked outside for a smoke.
Such blow-ups happened often.
Antonio was a pitbull terrier of a man that Jaxson was beginning to rightfully despise.
Bruno spoke with a stoic coldness, “As we’ve seen, Antonio makes mistakes; limited by his brains, experience, and lack of drive. And the price we have paid for these mistakes is steep. I know he felt pushed aside when you joined my family ten years ago. I can see where his obsession with you comes from, and it’s easy enough to understand. You took his place in my heart, in my wife’s heart and now, in my MC. As bad as that is, the bottom line is that my club needs to survive. My family’s legacy needs to survive. And that, Jaxson, is worth more than a few hurt feelings on anyone’s part.”
Although he barely had a high school education, Bruno was a smart man who knew an awful lot about an awful lot. Early on, he’d gotten the sense that Antonio would never make the cut.
“I could never turn over the club to Antonio without destroying the MC I have worked so hard to build up. You have served my family just as faithfully as any son would, Jaxson.”
“How do you think Antonio will react if I become president?” Jaxson finally spoke. “I can’t sit here and bury my head in the sand, pretending I don’t think he’ll be out for me with a vengeance.” He felt sure that somewhere along the line – Antonio’s longstanding feud with him would come to blows and if anything were the perfect catalyst, it would be the election. Death may be an inevitable result.
Bruno paused, thoughtfully, knowing precisely what Jaxson was getting at. “Antonio knows just as well as the rest of us do that you’re the only one capable of taking my place. What possible satisfaction could he gain from having you injured, or worse? A dead president after all, is hardly going to provide a functioning MC‒with the employment and protection on which he relies.” Bruno had implicit faith that his son would be forced to settle down and face reality soon enough.
“So how do we put a stop to this?” Jaxson signed heavily…they’d been here before.
“For now, keep him busy. When you’re working as president, he won’t have so much time at his disposal to cause trouble.”
“And if he can’t live with that, then what?”
Bruno took a breath.
“If any club brother eliminates his president, he dies himself. Club law stands for us all. Like the rest of us, Antonio knows that.” On that sobering note, he took a large gulp of whiskey.
Jaxson didn’t doubt Bruno’s word for a second. After Bruno’s wife had passed, his first love became his club. Bruno had been a great man to the guys; but he was a merciless leader, who’d hunted down and killed every last man who crossed his boundaries. The MC club worldview touched on matters of life and death—that’s just the way it was.
“Look, you’re a good man Jax and you’ve have made me so proud. I need you to keep them in line while I’m not around. The boys like and respect you.”
Jaxson shrugged. “I’m not sure.” Fuck! What a monumental mistake that was to show any doubt to this man.
De Luca gave him an icy stare in warning. His voice rose, “It’s your duty to your club.” He hit one hand on the desk; but with his strength, it unintentionally, made a loud slam. “It’s your duty to preserve the club that saved you; the club that raised you!” he ordered.
“Boss…” Jaxson interrupted, in a mild panic.
“I won’t be around forever. You’re the one capable of taking my place…I won’t let nobody make a fucking mess of my club.”
Jaxson had rarely seen this man lose it. But hell, he was close. It started to get a little unnerving.
With his deep breathing, his voice sounded shaky. “I need to know that my brother’s legacy will be safe.” Exhaling deeply in frustration, Bruno gazed up at the pictures on the office wall again. This time, he stared fondly at the largest frame in the center; at the portrait of Charlie, his late brother. “If it weren’t for that man, guys like you wouldn’t have a home.”
Jaxson nodded; he knew Bruno was right.