“I just need to know what kind of man I am before I drag you down with me, Lucy…You’re playing with fire, darlin’. You’ll get burned.”
My cock is hard as a fucking rock. I want Lucy. I want her every hour of every day.
I don’t give her a chance to respond. I throw on my leather jacket, give Lucy a kiss on the forehead and head out the door. I need to step away from the situation before I end up the one burned.
A short walk later, I’ve finally arrived.
Big Sal’s.
Its sign is lit up in the day with blue neon lights that follow right on into the dark bar.
Stepping inside, the rest of the run-down joint is a relic of some forgone, cocaine-fueled time long past. It’s dark and stinks like tobacco and foul men at play. Hints of women’s perfume catch my nostrils as I listen to the metal blasting on the stereo. It’s instantly familiar to me. I sense no imminent threat here. When I catch the attention of the security guard and the young, pretty ginger thing behind the bar they seem completely comfortable with my arrival.
The music’s blaring so loud, I gotta shout for my order when I reach the bar. Little Red pours me a shot of whiskey and a beer before I’ve even opened my mouth. “How much?”
“Huh?” she says, confused.
“I said ‘How much?’”
“On the house, honey,” she says with a laugh, her hand atop mine that holds a few dollar bills. She stands back up and gestures her head to the back of the room.
Someone whistles. The music turns off. Some faceless bodies slide out from their vinyl booths, moving beside me and the stripper poles and out the door. Squinting through the dim, I notice some guys have stayed behind. I take a step back towards the door.
“That’s some big fuckin’ balls you got,” comes a powerful voice. He approaches with arms open wide and I receive his embrace.
“Y…Yeah.”
“Landon. Look at me, bro. Did you find Lucy?”
Chapter 19
“Bro, what the hell happened to you? You look like you seen a fuckin’ ghost or somethin’.”
“I… don’t know?” I take a deep swallow of the beer in front of me but the man snatches it from me. How the fuck does he know about Lucy?
“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning. Chill out, brother.”
Man, a drink would help me right now. My brain’s buzzing, running over all these moments with my Lucy, wondering if she knows me, or if I knew her, or if this whole thing was just some fucked up coincidence.
From beside us, more bodies appear— faces that feel like family…Or something close to family…
“The fuck is wrong with you? And what happened to your cut?” says one of them.
Garrett. I recall his name easily. He approaches me looking relieved and I stand from the booth to hug him. I recognize him. I know him. I remember him. Thank fucking God I remember someone!
I get a punch on my bicep and want to laugh. Garrett, my blood brother who I’d give my life for is shaking me excitedly. I have to try keep my cool for now in case I’m wrong about the whole story here.
“The fuck is wrong with me? The fuck’s wrong with you?” I smile to show I’m only messing around. Everything feels like a dream where it’s almost real life but some bits are off about it. There’s some blanks I can’t fill in.
“I was fuckin’ worried sick, bro. Thought the worst but Mac wouldn’t let us trail you.”
“Garrett,” I say.
“Yeah, ya fuck. It’s fuckin’ Garrett. Who the fuck you think I am?”
“Leave him alone, G. Landon’s rockin’ a mean hangover or something.”
I take my palm and squeeze Garrett’s neck. My brother’s are back; My MC brothers. Garrett is with me. I’m safer than I was. I have someone on my side.
“Where’s Mac?” I recall some more memories. Maybe the context of the bar and my brothers is sparking some things. I remember I had something to do with him or for him.
“Aw, hell no,” Garrett says. “Ain’t no goddamn way in hell you’re chatting to Prez like this. We gotta get you sobered up before the apology you owe him.”
“Apology?” That seemed a more plausible scenario than I had in mind. Why did I think this would be easy? I’d thought before about how maybe I’d run, that’s why I was on the bike. Shit. “Is Prez pissed?”
“What’s with you? You know Mac don’t forgive that quick. You’ll be lucky if you get out of this with a fucking beating. Why the hell did you tear your patches off?”
“I don’t know…” I stumble over my words, trying to back away and running into another lump of human muscle. I turn and look up at his huge frame.
“Haven’t seen you this blackout since that fight with Mia. Someone knock you over the head or somethin’?” I notice a badge on this guy’s cut. Rev. It’s Rev. And suddenly I know I know him too. “Your brain’s mush, bro.”
“Can’t stop, won’t stop.” I mumble and shrug at him.
“Yeah, we know that,” Garrett says. “Get that ass on the couch. I’ll get the girls to cook you up some chow. You get some sleep and we’ll figure this out later.”
I sit down on the sofa, forced to recline by Garrett’s strength. “I’m good man,” I protest but he’ll have none of it.
“I know how stubborn you are. Now lay the fuck down before I put you to sleep.”
“Garrett,” I say. “We gotta talk about something serious. I need help.”
“I know you got shit to talk about. But Prez said if we see you back in town to have him speak to you first. You know I can’t be brought into more shit. If Prez thinks I’m hiding something from him about you, you know how he gets. I got the kid. I need Mac on my good side. You understand.”
I don’t fight him longer than that. I fucked up. I’ve got a punishment to face that might not be pretty. I forget about Lucy for a minute to save me the pain of thinking about our future. The sofa’s comfortable. I figure I could take a rest on it a few hours, be up ready to handle whatever Mac’s got in store then make it back to the motel before sunset.
Someone clears their throat.
I open my eyes into the room. Everything’s dark now but I can make out the outline in the doorway. Standing six-foot-six, bald, rough and weather worn…It’s Mac, who’s leaned up against the door frame. He switches on the bright, fluorescent lights and I squint hard adjusting to them.
“Up,” he tells me and gestures his head for me to f
ollow him into the clubhouse behind the bar.
He doesn’t say another word until we’re sat at the table where church — the club’s official meetings — is held. He wipes his nose on his bandana and narrows his eyes to me.
“Talk.” His deep voice, the result of decades smoking two packs a day, croaks at me.
“I gotta start by letting you know I ain’t thinkin’ straight right now.”
“I don’t want your goddamn excuses, boy. You can’t handle your piss. That ain’t my worry.”
“I haven’t had a drink, Mac. No disrespect but I crashed my bike, hit my head. Spent the last couple days trying to figure out who the fuck I am… But being here, some things seem to be clearing up.”
“I couldn’t give two holy shits about how you feel now. What I needa know is why you abandoned this club in the first place. Why you walked away from your brothers, from me. I gave you fucking everything!” His fist beats the table and he stands up, pacing behind my chair. “You made a promise to me. You said you could handle this, that you wanted her, that you wanted this for the club and our families.”
He squeezes my face. I rage inside but don’t fight back. “Mac, Prez… I get you’re upset. I get it….But I’m missing some memories. I fell off my bike. I don’t know what you’re talking about right now.”
His knuckles crack and his hands land on my shoulders. “Seems convenient you’d lose your head at a time like this.”
“I swear to Christ, Mac, when I get it back I’ll take whatever punishment you got but thing is I don’t know what happened. I want to give you answers but I’ve got none. Hell, I can’t even remember my own address.”