“Hey, Alaska!” I said in the friendliest voice I could muster.
She stopped short and looked out curiously. I walked up the walkway and a look of recognition dawned on her face, the closer I got to her front door.
“Hey,” she replied curiously.
I approached her door and shoved it open, knocking her off of her feet in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, as I raised the gun, took aim, and fired.
Seven
I waited another day or so before I told Pardon that it was done. The look of fear and confusion in her eyes when I raised my gun had been plaguing me and I was angry.
Angry that I had done it. Angry that I hadn’t been man enough to stick to my fucking guns and not break my only rule.
I rubbed my hands over my face irritably before I reached for my phone. I was lying on my couch watching television and decided it was now or never.
I brought the screen to life and scrolled through the contacts until I got to his name and hit dial. With a heavy sigh, I put the phone to my ear and waited for him to pick up.
“Yeah?” he barked into the phone.
“It’s done, old man,” I replied.
“Where the hell you been?” he asked, angrily.
“Killing little girls because Pardon said so,” I shot back.
Pardon didn’t respond. Not right away and I could tell that my little outburst had pissed him off.
Good. Now you know how I’ve been feeling.
I expected chastising words to follow; something that would’ve put me back in my “place” when he spoke, but instead I heard the click of the line as he disconnected the call.
I reached down with the phone and let it drop on the living room carpet. Whatever. If he was pissed, he was pissed, and nothing I did or said was going to change that. I was honestly to a point with Pardon where I wanted to have the havoc vote again. I’d make damn sure it was unanimous and show him what rage really looked like.
And this all was because he made me break my rule.
It would take a long time for the fury inside of me to die down and I had to be sure to control it until it was time. Pardon’s time. Then I would swoop in like the Devil himself and give him a fucking amazing death.
Then maybe I would take the chair. I’d fucking run Tidals & Anchors the way my grandfather wanted. It wouldn’t be the shit show that Leon had turned it into. I closed my eyes and thought about all the things the club could be if I took the chair. We’d get out of the shady business of drug running that Leon had put us into. The money was good; the prisons were a great place to sell to and the income was way better than any nine to five job. The protection runs were my thing though; I didn’t want anything to do with the drugs, so if a certain politician or person of importance needed some shit to get in or out of Bend, I was the one that would always lead it.
I woke up with a start at the banging on my door. I hadn’t even realized I had fallen asleep until I opened and closed my mouth a few times, and felt the familiar dryness of slumber. I groaned and turned on my side, blinking rapidly a few times to get rid of the haze of sleep, before I pushed myself to my feet and went to the door.
Just as I put my hand on the doorknob, the incessant pounding started again.
“Alright already!” I yelled as I pulled the door open. It was Dallas and he looked worse for wear. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Pardon is pissed. What the fuck did you say to him?” he asked, walking past me into the living room.
I rolled my eyes. For a motorcycle club full of men, it was starting to feel like a gossipy group of high school girls.
“Dallas, if you’re here to ask me about what your old man and I talked about, it’s simple. I told him the job he needed done was taken care of. Now, if that answered all your questions, could you go? I kinda wanna go back to sleep,” I said eyeing my couch.
“Can’t. Protection run came up for tonight,” he said, dropping down onto the love seat.
I crossed my arms over my chest. It would be nice to have some more money, but if this was Pardon’s deal, I didn’t want any part of it.
“What’s the job?” I asked him.