Swing may be what the guys called me, but I was born Nero Rader, first and only son of Navy hero, Leon Rader and homemaker extraordinaire, Betsy Collins. Leon’s dad started the MC; he was a Navy man too. I chose not to follow in their footsteps. I guess it’s because I was a troubled youth or whatever, but Tidals & Anchors called to me as strongly as it did to them.
Commander Harold Rader was honorably discharged from the service sometime in the fifties with some of his Navy buddies and decided that they didn’t exactly want to be forced into retirement. Tidals & Anchors was an homage to their time spent at sea which was more often than not, and at first it seemed like a good idea.
When Grandpa aged out sometime in the seventies, Dad took over and drove the club straight to hell. I was born a little less than twenty years later and spent most of my childhood growing up around the guys that were now feared outlaws. My best friend, Dallas Quinn, was the new president’s son and we clicked almost immediately.
Seeing as though my grandfather started the MC, Dad should’ve been able to hold onto the presidency, but one too many bad decisions made behind the backs of the brothers, and he was unceremoniously tossed out on his ass.
Now Dallas’ father is starting to age out of his roll and there’s going to be
a vote soon as to who the new president should be. I know that the guys will most likely want to vote me in because of the lineage, but I don’t want it. I’d rather have it go to Dallas; he’s got his head on straighter than I ever had or will.
I like being the muscle that they come to when they need something really dirty done and honestly, I’m quite proud of my Dealer of Havoc patch. That would mean more to me than the president one.
With a sigh, I spit the toothpaste out into the sink and turned on the water. Cupping some into my hand I brought it to my lips and swished it around my mouth a few times, before spitting out the rest.
The vote was tonight. I didn’t want to be there but it was my duty and I couldn’t exactly refuse.
I turned off the light in the bathroom as I walked out and headed into my bedroom. I already had fresh clothes laid out and as I glanced at the clock I realized that if I didn’t get a move on, I wouldn’t be able to tell Dallas that the task that needed taken care of was complete.
Pulling my towel off, I gave myself one last quick rub down with it before I tossed it back into the bathroom. I craned my neck to see where it landed before I went to my dresser and grabbed a fresh pair of boxer briefs. I pulled them on, then went back to my bed and pulled on my dark blue denim jeans, my black, ribbed long sleeved shirt, and then my vest. I went over to my nightstand and picked up a hair-tie. Luckily, I had sisters so I was always stealing theirs. I pulled my hair back and looped it a few times, securing it into place before grabbing my knit cap and putting it over my head.
One last sigh was all I had in me as I walked toward the kitchen and grabbed the keys to my Harley. I stopped by the door and pulled on my heavy boots that were sitting next to my couch.
After I laced them up, I ran a hand over my face before walking out of my house. I could already tell that tonight’s decision wasn’t going to make anyone happy.
Two
The clubhouse was located in the middle of Bend, Oregon where most of us had been born and raised. It was located across the lot from Rader-Quinn Pawnshop; the largest and most lucrative shop in town.
As I pulled into the lot I saw that everyone was already there but my usual spot was left open for me to back my bike into. I turned it off and sat on it for a moment, before I used the tip of my boot to bring out the kickstand and let it lean onto it. I was just about to the front door when Dallas walked out.
“Hey Swing,” he called out with a nod. I smiled and followed him over to a set of benches where we sat on the table tops. He held out his pack of smokes and I took one, waiting patiently for him to let me use his lighter. After he lit his smoke, he handed it to me. Bringing it to the end of my cigarette, I inhaled deeply before I handed it back to him.
“Thanks man.”
He nodded again and leaned down, his arms resting on his knees. That was something he only ever did when he was in deep thought and I knew what he was thinking about; the vote.
I glanced at the top of his light brown hair and wondered how much shit he had put in it to keep it slicked back.
“How did it go?” he finally asked, picking at his fingernails.
“It went. Not as clean as I would have liked, but that’s one problem we won’t have again,” I replied, flicking ashes onto the bench.
He nodded and sat straight up. I took another drag of my cigarette, feeling his eyes on me. I was waiting for him to say something, anything, to make this less uncomfortable and he finally did.
“Good. Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want it?” he asked suddenly.
“Do I want what?” I asked, glancing at him.
“The chair.”
“No. Hell no. That’s the last thing I want,” I replied honestly. “What about you? Do you want it?”
Dallas raised his eyes to the night sky and smiled slightly. “I don’t know yet. But it’s going to come down to me or you and I just wanted to know if it was something you wanted or not.”