“You can call me anytime. You know that.”
“I ain’t got much time, so tell me what I’ve missed.”
“Nothing much. Timber came over for dinner last night. He taught me how to cheat at poker. When you get home, I’m going to whoop your ass.”
This time he flat out laughs. “Not sure it’s a good idea to tell me you’re gonna cheat.”
“Maybe not,” I admit. “We also watched Harold and Kumar go to White Castle. It’s the funniest movie I’ve ever seen. He told me that he’d take me there someday, and he’s supposed to bring his old Cheech and Chong movies with him next time he comes over. He says they’re even better.”
Kidd is quiet a moment before he responds. “You been spending a lot of time with Timber lately?”
“Yeah, he’s cool. Not as much fun as you, but then again, no one is.”
“That’s right, and don’t you forget it.”
Before I get the chance to respond, I hear a muffled voice say, “Come back to bed, baby. It’s cold without you.”
As soon as the words register in my mind, my stomach starts to roll. Oh my God! He’s got a woman in his bed, and he’s talking to me on the phone. For a second, I’m pissed, but then I remember that he thinks of me as his sister. With that thought weighing heavily on my mind, my anger begins to fade and deep sadness takes its place. All of the excitement I felt when I answered the phone is completely gone now.
“Jenna, I got to go. There’s some pressing business I need to take care of,” Kidd says, while the woman in the back ground giggles.
I shut my eyes and try to stop the tears from coming. “Bye, Kidd.”
“Bye, baby girl. Talk to you soon.”
I click the off button, drop my phone on the nightstand, and lay back down. “I don’t love Kidd. I don’t love Kidd.” Maybe if I say it enough, it will be true.
I’m sitting in Killer’s office with him, his son Timmons, and Brew. I’m trying to get a straight answer about what’s been going on with the drugs, but none are coming my way. “I’ve been here for nearly three months, and I still don’t know shit about what happened with the coke that was supposed to go to Digger’s crew. I’m telling you for the last time, I want an answer and I want it now.”
Killer sits forward and places his elbows on the table, a look of total defeat is written across his face. “I know, Kidd. I’ve been looking for the answers you are, but I ain’t finding them either.”
Brew jumps from his seat, sending his chair crashing against the floor. “I’ve told you both more than once, Rig was lead on all three shipments that were short. Since he’s been dead, every load has been flush. He had to have something to do with the missing coke. I don’t know why you won’t fuckin’ listen to me.”
“And, I’ve told you before, it’s just too fucking convenient of an answer. Blame it on the dead man, doesn’t work for me. Plus, I met that bastard a time or two. I don’t think he was smart enough to pull this shit off.”
“I might be able to help you with that,” Timmons mumbles out, shooting daggers my way.
There’s just something about this motherfucker that rubs me the wrong way. I’ve known him my whole life, and never really thought much of him, but now I can’t stand being in the same damn room as him. “What’s that?”
“He’d grown pretty tight with one of our prospects. The kid went with Rig on his last two runs to Cali. He helped him get ready for the other. This kid was slick. He’d only been here for a few months, and we were already thinking about making him a member.”
Killer looks towards his son. “You talking about Tug?”
Timmons nods. “Yeah. He talked Rig into riding through Tennessee, instead of straight through.”
“That’s right. Rig told me that Tug was helping him map out the trip. He said the kid told him it’d be better to change up our normal route, said back tracking through Tennessee would be safer. I didn’t understand why, but didn’t fucking think about it. Just wanted to get the shit there without any issues,” Brew says, looking almost relived.
My eyes cut back to Killer. “Where’s this kid?”
He shakes his head. “Found him dead a few days after Chipper left, OD’d in his bed.”
“Well, now you have your answers. You can head back to Big Clifty,” Timmons says with a sneer.
I shake my head. “I won’t be going anywhere for a while. We still got shit to settle here. This club isn’t pulling its own weight, so it’ll be a while before I leave.”
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Brew asks, picking his chair up and sitting back down.
“Just to get your asses in the black, I had to put nearly hundred grand of Big Clifty’s cash into this club. That shit ain’t right. You know the rules. Each charter covers their own ass. Until Mateland can do that, I’ll be here.”
“Gun didn’t say shit about that to me,” Killer says, sounding confused.
I shrug. “Maybe not, but he did to me. He also told me that I needed to pick a man to stand in for you. You’ll still be president, but the one I choose will hold the power.”
“No fucking way!” Killer growls out. “I started this club! Ain’t nobody taking it away from me.”
“You helped Pop start the club, and you also voted him in as President. You and Digger are founding members, but Pop is in control.”
“I’ll talk to Gun about this myself. If he thinks he can pull this shit on me and get away with it, he’s fuckin’ wrong. I’ll tell Digger and find out what he thinks about this shit. Maybe we two founding members might need to see about taking that control away from Gun,” Killer threatens.
I nod. “You can do that, but you might reconsider. Digger’s not real happy with you right now. In fact, I’d say he’s really fuckin’ pissed.”
“What the fuck are you talking about now?” He shouts.
“Digger made a trip to Big Clifty the week before I came here. See, he wanted Pop to cut your charter. Actually, he wanted Pop to approve his club going to war with Mateland. Seems he’s tired of your shit,” I say with an edge to my voice. “Took Pop nearly three days to convince him not to sic his boys on your ass.”
All color drains from Killer’s face before he responds, “Digger wouldn’t do that to me.”
I nod again, “Yeah, he would. Your club fucked up big time. Your fuck up cost him money, and more importantly, it cost him connections. You made him look bad, you know, Digger. He doesn’t like to look bad.”
Digger got his name during his second tour in Vietnam. Pop says Digger put more men in their graves than the rest of their entire unit combined. Pop got his name because he was a crack shot, especially with a long range shotgun. Killer, on the other hand, got his name for the killer weed he seemed to always have.
Killer’s quiet for a moment before replying, “Fine, do whatever the fuck you have to.”
I smile at Timber as I climb off his bike. “Thanks for everything. I had a blast.”
“Anytime, Jenna girl,” he says, sliding off the bike. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and leads me into the house.
It’s been a wonderful day. Timber showed up this morning right after breakfast and told me to go get dressed, but refused to tell me what he had planned. An hour later, we pulled into the parking lot at the Kansas City zoo. When I saw the zoo sign, I got so excited that I nearly fell off the bike.
I couldn’t believe he would take me to a zoo. Bikers don’t go to the zoo, do they? A few weeks ago, I told him I’d never been to one. He said everybody should go to the zoo at least once, for no other reason than to see the tigers. I didn’t think much more about our conversation, but obviously, he did.
By the end of the day, I realized he was right. The tigers are bad ass.
As soon as we step inside of the house, the smell of vomit hits my nose. I immediately pull away from him and run towards Chipper and Mindy’s room. She’s laying in the bed, eyes closed but not asleep. “Did you have fun, sweetie?”
I walk to her side and go down to my knees. “You’ve been sick again?”
“I’m sick every day,” she says in a weak voice.