Chapter two

The gentle hum from my tattoo gun ends as I finish up on the art piece I’ve been working for the last forty five minutes.

“It looks perfect if I do say so myself.” I tell Lacey, my client, who just rolls her eyes. “Hey, no need for that look. It’s not big-headedness if I’ve got the talent to back it up.”

“Are you always so cocky, Booker?” she says as I clean her up and dress the tattoo.

“Always, baby.”

“You know,” she starts to say, and she’s right. I do know exactly what she’s going to say. “There is this cute guy who always comes into my bakery, and I think he would be absolutely perfect for you.”

There it is.

Lacey has got a heart of gold. She is one of my regulars who has been coming into my tattoo store for about a year now, and every time without fail, she tries to set me up with a guy who visits her bakery every day. I’m sure he is very nice, but that’s the problem. I may want a boyfriend, want something real, something more than just hookups, but I don’t want just nice.

I want fire.

Rex says it’s good I know my worth.

Speak of the devil. The door to my tattoo shop slams open. The fucker never opens a door like a normal person.

“Booker, you’re needed. Church.” A man of many words is my club brother and co-owner of Tats The Way. We’ve been friends since we met at the DV shelter as were teens. When his mom went back to her abusive ex, my mom took him in and we moved out here to Vigo Falls. He’s not my brother by blood, but that doesn’t mean shit. He’s my brother in all the ways that matter.

I nod at him and turn back to Lacey, giving her all the aftercare instructions she already knows, but I need to say, anyway.

“Did Prez say what it’s about?” I ask as the door closes behind her.

“Just that it’s urgent,” he says with a look. Shit. Urgent means trouble in our world.

After moving here, my mom met and married Kenny. He’s the kind of man she deserved, and they had Reed. I guess he’s technically my half-brother, but we don’t see it like that. He’s just my brother.

Kenny is the president of the Fallen Gargolyes motorcycle club. MCs get a bad rap, and a lot of it is justified, but not us. Fallen Gargoyles was started by Kenny’s dad, Grandpops, a former FBI agent who became disenfranchised with the whole law enforcement system back in the eighties. He started the club, made up of mainly queer former cops and vets, to help out those more vulnerable members of society. On the face of it, we raise a lot of money and support for women’s refuge shelters and homeless queer youth.

Behind the scenes, we do a lot more to protect these people.

So if Prez says something is urgent, we fucking roll.

“Rex and I have club business. You okay to handle any walk-ins?” I call out to Chez and Ophie, our two employees who aren’t members of the club.

“No probs,” Ophie says, and Chez gives me an up nod, going back to cleaning his station.

We head out to our bikes and ride side by side for the five minutes it takes to get to the clubhouse.

The Fallen Gargoyle clubhouse isn’t your regular biker hangout. It used to be a hotel back in the day. It has over a hundred rooms, most of which are now mini apartments and offices for club members. There is a conference room that is now used as a games and movie room, a bar that anyone can come hang out at, and a dining room for club members and family. It also has a shit ton of outside space for all the family fun days we do to raise money for our charities.

I’ve always loved this building. Especially Arnold and Sylvester, the two gargoyles that sit on the porch roof protecting us. Grandpops explained that gargoyles are protectors. It’s why he named the MC after them.

We park in our usual spots and head on in. Just in time to see Kenny with a face like thunder storming out of his office to the bar, where Toni hastily pours him a glass of whiskey which he proceeds to down in one.

“Church now,” he storms back across the room into the room next to his office where we hold church.

For us, church isn’t about giving an ego boost to a deity. It’s about a club meeting where we talk about all the stuff we need to sort out. Usually, it has to do with those who we’re helping.

Kenny is like a dad to me. The most chill guy I know. Him stomping around and knocking back alcohol before noon is a bad sign.

I make my way into the room. A low hum of everyone talking around the giant, ornate table. I slide into my usual seat, Rex sitting opposite me and looking just as fucking bemused as I am.

“Everyone be quiet,” Kenny shouts, sitting at the head of the table. Him raising his voice is concerning. He didn’t even yell when Jet and I accidentally super-glued his favorite wrench to the garage ceiling. “I just found out I might have a 23-year-old son.”

There is a shocked silence for a beat before everyone starts talking all at once.

“How did you find him?”

“Does Stella know?”

“Is he after money?”

“How hot is he?”

Kenny sags into his chair. “He only found out this week. His mom told him his dad was a biker named Kenny from Oregon, whom she met in Vegas in ‘99.”

“My wedding to Nicole?” Mac says, leaning forward in his seat next to Kenny. “You took the whole “party like it’s 1999” to heart on that trip.”

“Of course I did. Everyone thought the new millennium was going to be the start of the apocalypse,” Kenny sniffs. “I’m not 100% sure it wasn’t.”

“What do we know about him?” Echo takes his role as a club enforcer very seriously. A little too serious sometimes. We aren’t the kind of club to do murder, but we do have a few enforcers who are experts at scarring the shit out of the cunty abusers we deal with.

“He’s a website designer. Originally from Colorado, but now he travels as he works.”

“Is he one of those van life people?” Jet sneers.

“Seriously, why do you hate them?” Fizz asks with an eye roll. “They are living the dream.”

“They don’t have proper bathroom facilities.”

“You need help.”

“He rides a Harley Cruiser,” Kenny says, ignoring Fiz and Jet’s bickering. He looks at me and for the first time today Kenny smiles. “My kid is one of us.”

I return his smile. “Fuck yeah, he is. So when do we get to meet him?”

“He wants a DNA test first,” Kenny turns to Jet. “Do you think you could get one done in a rush?”

“Of course, Prez. One of the lab techs owes me a favor. I’ll let him know to make it a priority when I start my shift later.” Jet is a labor and delivery nurse at the local hospital. Being a 6’4” former college linebacker, people always do a double-take when they see him in pastel scrubs.

“Thank you, brother,” Kenny takes a deep breath. “I need to go tell Stella.”

“Mom is going to be so excited. She’ll have a Pinterest board going for him within the hour.” I snort. “How are you feeling about this, Kenny?”

He runs a hand down his face, looking older and wearier than I’d ever seen him.

“I wish I knew about him before. 23 years I’ve missed out on, and if the kid is tracking me down, how well was his home life?”

“Kenny, you know that kids can have the best parents but will still be curious about who they share genetics with,” Mac tells him gently.

“I know you’re right, I just have a feeling,” he looks around the table. “Let’s get down to other business. Keith Ugart has been hanging around Humberton. He hasn’t officially broken his restraining order, but it’s making Michelle nervous he might show up at her work again.”

Echo leans forward. “I think club members should be seen around town. He knows we helped Michelle restart her life. Let’s show him we didn’t go away.”

“Good idea. Can you set that up? I want you to take the lead, Echo, but make sure you don’t take it all on.” I can’t help snorting.

Echo would take an army on by himself if he could.

“Will do, prez,” Echo nods. “I’ll make a spreadsheet for people to sign up.”

Kenny smiles at him fondly. “Sounds great. I think that’s everything. Hopefully next week, we’ll know more.”

Everyone moves to leave, but I stay back.

“This guy is going to be so fucking lucky he has you as a dad, Kenny. Reed and I are going to smother him in brotherly love.” I tell him when it’s just the two of us in the room.

“I hope so. He sounded like a good kid, but what if he’s small-minded? I don’t want to bring that into our lives.” He groans, closing his eyes.

“If he is, then we’ll see if we can help him open it. Maybe away from Reed and the others, though.” I tack on as an afterthought. Reed is only fifteen and came out as a demi boy two years ago. No queer person needs to be around ignorance, especially not queer youth.

“Thanks, Booker, dunno what I’d do without you, Reed, and your Mom.”

“You’ll never have to find out.” I give him a hug, and then we both head on with our day. I have to get back to the shop and get ready for my next client.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with Kenny’s son. I just really fucking hope he doesn’t break Kenny’s heart.