CHAPTER FIVE OLD GHOSTS

Brayden—

Turning the corner, I see the clubhouse of my father’s old chapter. It’s an old house that takes up the corner lot in a poor neighborhood buried behind the old steel mill. I notice a lot of boarded-up houses on this street.

Cole and Crash lead us around to the alley in the back and stop at a big wooden gate with the Evil Dead three skulls painted across it. Two prospects are waiting and swing the gates wide for us.

Our bikes rumble through and into a large backyard, taken up mostly by a gravel section where we park in a line.

By the time we all climb off, the Birmingham President and VP have come out to greet us, along with what looks like their entire chapter.

My father shakes hands with them, giving them a backslapping hug, but it’s clear to me there’s tension between the two. I can tell it by the tight jaws, chins in the air, and no smiles.

My eyes shift around to the men of our chapter. From their expressions, I know they feel it, too. I’ve been to the Oregon Chapter and the Nevada chapter. There was honest friendliness, smiles, and backslaps. We were brothers reuniting.

This doesn’t feel like that at all, and I can’t figure it out. I may be too new to know the bad blood between our chapters, but I’ve never heard anything about it.

“Men, this is Shades, President, and his VP, Ghost,” my father says.

We all nod and line up to shake their hands.

Shades introduces my father. “Men, this is Cole, President of the San José chapter, and his VP, Crash. Some of you may remember them.”

I spot a couple of old guys in the crowd who nod and come forward for backslaps. It’s then I see the first smile on my father’s face.

I’m introduced to several men and try to remember names. Hammer, Griz, JJ, Boot, Slick, Gator… I soon lose track.

In addition to the local chapter, there are men from the New Orleans chapter. Undertaker, their president, their VP, Mooch, Blood, Sandman, Joker, and Wicked, to name a few.

We move inside, and soon we’ve all got a beer in our hands, and are relaxing after the long fucking trip. I find a leather chair in a corner and rest my aching body.

TJ is with my father, and I spot Billy and Marcus talking to some guys near the pool table, along with Kyle and Rafe.

Eventually, Green makes his way over and takes a seat next to me. “How’s it goin’ little grasshopper?”

I grin at his nickname for me. “Tired. You?”

He adjusts his leg. “Doin’ okay.”

“Hey, Green?” I ask.

“Yeah?”

“What’s the deal here? Something’s off. This isn’t like when we show up at Nevada or Oregon.”

Crash walks up, and Green lifts his finger off his longneck bottle, pointing at him. “That’s the man to answer that question.”

Crash frowns. “What question?”

“Grasshopper wants to know what’s up with the vibe between Cole and Shades.”

“Oh, that.”

Green chuckles. “Yeah, that.”

“Look, kid. It’s like this. When your old man was a member here, Shades was a lowly prospect working toward earning his patch, and Cole was his sponsor. Some shit went down, and Cole found out Shades’ had lied to him. He beat the shit out of his prospect and laid down the law.”

“What happened?” I frown. Obviously, the man didn’t get kicked out.

“Shades did what he was told, but he didn’t agree with it, and it caused him a lot of trouble later on. He’s resented Cole from then on.”

“Way to shorten a story, VP,” Green grumbles. “You left out all the important details.”

“It’s a long fucking story, and I’m too tired to tell it,” Crash replies.

Green grins. “You clear on all that?”

“Not a clue,” I reply.

“Then you fucking fill him in,” Crash snaps and walks away.

Green leans toward me. “He’s a little grouchy.”

“So, what’s the rest of the story?” I ask.

“Shades was warned off Crash’s little sister, Letty and her best friend, Skylar. They were just teenagers at the time. Shades hooked up with Skylar anyway, and Cole found out. He lured him out to an alley downtown one night with a callout. When Shades showed up, Cole beat the shit out of him. Told him he had to cut Skylar loose. If he didn’t, Cole was never going to vote him in.”

“What happened?”

“Shades did what he was told. Way I heard it, Skylar took off, and he didn’t see her for years.”

“That’s sad.”

“Don’t worry, kid. They’re married now.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Skylar showed up in town, but the truth was, she was running from the Devil Kings MC in Georgia.”

“Running from them? Why?”

“They thought she’d killed one of their guys. It wasn’t the case, but they came lookin’ for her. Shades tried to protect her, but before it was all through, they’d kidnapped her, and he walked into their compound to exchange himself for her. Luckily, it all worked out, but that takes fucking guts. The man thought he’d lost the love of his life. He blamed it all back to when Cole made him run her off.”

“Holy shit. Now I get why they’re barely speaking.”

“Yeah. I thought they were finally getting over it, but then all that shit went down with the DKs when you were prospecting. Our chapter kind of put them in a spot. See, they’ve got a good relationship—kind of a truce—with the DKs in Georgia. But we put them in a bad position when they had to lie for us. Could have caused them a lot of blow-back. But as long as that cat never gets out of the bag, they should be good.”

“Damn, so much for brotherhood. So, Cole and Shades don’t speak?”

“Oh, they’ll shake each other’s hand, pay the respect, but there’s no love lost. All over something that happened over two decades ago.”

A club girl comes over with a tray of beer and shots, and offers us fresh ones, along with the Jack Daniels. Green and I each take a beer and a whiskey.

He holds his shot up. “Here’s to ya, kid.”

We clink glasses and toss them back.

I ease in my chair. “You ever meet Butcher?”

“Met him a few times at Sturgis, but I don’t know him like Cole and Crash know him.”

“How’s an MC funeral go? I’ve never been to one.”

He shrugs. “We’ll ride to the funeral home and pay our respects. Then they’ll load him in the hearse, and we’ll escort him, two by two, to the cemetery. Once he’s lowered into the ground, we do something called the last rev.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see. We’ll tell you what to do when we get there.”

An hour later, after the Oregon boys arrive, Green stands. “We’ve got rooms reserved at the Imperial Inn. I need to rest this aching leg. I’m gonna head that way.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out an envelope with a room number scribbled on it. “You and TJ are sharing a room. There are two keycards in that.”

“I’m ready to go. Mind if I tag along?”

“Sure. Find your brother and give him his card. Meet me out at the bikes.”

“Will do.”

TJ is over at the bar, talking with some of the Nevada brothers. I lift my chin to the ones I’ve met. Daytona, Trick, and Lobo, then lean to TJ’s ear and shout above the noise. “I’m taking off with Green. Heading to the motel. Here’s the keycard to our room.”

“You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, just need to lie down for a bit.”

He nods, and I head outside.

Green’s already mounted. I sling my leg over my bike and lift it off its kickstand, then fire it up. The engine roars to life, and I hit the throttle, following Green out the back gate. We drive a long way before we reach this motel, which I suppose is good, since the clubhouse was in a crappy side of town.

As we roll into the lot, I scan the place. It actually looks nice. Our rooms are in the back, and it’s the kind of place where we park right at our door.

I’m in room 168, and Green is in room 180. We park and I unstrap my pack.

Green holds up a hand. “See you ma?ana, grasshopper.”

Entering my room, I toss my pack on one of the two queen beds. The room is surprisingly nice. Sitting on the bed, I pull my boots off, then strip and hit the shower. It revives me, and I dress in a clean pair of jeans and shirt, then pull a trash bag out of my pack, shake it out, and stuff my dirty clothes in it, then haul it to the laundry room we passed on the way in. Luckily, it’s just around the corner in a breezeway, along with an ice machine.

Once I get the load in the washer, I return to the room and dig out my aspirin. I’m almost out, plus I need more smokes, and decide to take a ride to get restock and explore the town. It’s only just after rush hour, and I drive south. The motel we’re at is at the intersection of interstate 65 and Highway 31. I file the info in my head.

About fifteen minutes later, I hit a pothole and immediately hear a hissing noise coming from my back tire. “Fucking hell.”

I pull over to the shoulder and take a look. There’s a nail in the side wall, but I’m not sure if it’s close enough to the tread to be fixable. Shit. I glance around to see if there’s any auto parts stores, thinking I may try a can of tire fix.

A beat-up old pickup pulls up behind me and an old man climbs out. “You got trouble with your bike, son?”

“Yeah, I picked up a nail.”

He glances around, then lifts his chin to the small incline near the corner. “Roll your bike over there, and I’ll back my truck up to it. You should be able to roll it into the bed of the pickup from there. I’ll give you a lift down the road a couple of miles. It’s the only garage I know that stays open late on Fridays. I think they work on bikes.”

“Thanks. That would be great.”

He climbs behind the wheel, and I shrug out of my cut, tucking it in my saddlebag, then push my bike to the spot and load it up with no trouble at all. We strap it down, and when I climb in the passenger seat, the old guy introduces himself.

“I’m John, by the way, but my friends call me Cooter.”

“Cooter. Pleased to meet you. I’m Brayden. Thanks for this. You’re a real lifesaver.”

“So, judging from the rocker on that vest you were wearing, I take it you’re a long way from home.”

“I am. A few of us are in town for a brother’s funeral. Pay our respects.”

He nods. “It’s important to honor the dead.”

“Yes, sir.”

It’s only minutes until he’s turning into the parking lot of a cement block building. The lights are still on and the garage doors are up. I see a couple of people moving around inside. I spot a ramp leaned against the wall outside and nod to it. “I’ll just grab that.”

Cooter nods. “I’ll drop the tailgate.”

We both climb out, and once the bike is unloaded, I reach over and shake Cooter’s hand. “Thanks for everything. I really appreciate it.”

“No trouble. You take care of yourself.”

Once he drives off, I roll the bike up to the doors. “Can I get some help with a flat?”