Page 32 of Talon (Road Rebels MC 2)
“Oh yes, some Italian restaurants and a couple of cafes. Nothing as fancy as the ones you’re no doubt used to in San Francisco,” mom boiled water in the kettle as she spooned instant coffee into two mugs. I smiled at her lovingly.
“Italian it is then. I hope you like meatballs!” I exclaimed, and she laughed.
“I’m so happy, baby, you have no idea. I knew you’d pass that exam. You were always a smart girl,” mom commented from her position at the kitchen counter, and I tucked in some of my red hair behind my ears.
Her fridge door was covered with magnets from San Francisco that I’d sent her over the years. She’d framed a few of my photographs, and they were scattered around the walls of her kitchen.
“I knew I had to do it, and I’m happy that I passed. I figured that I’d come over and spend some time with you here before I started applying for jobs,” I replied, as mom carried over the two mugs of coffee to the table. We smiled at each other as she sat down across from me, and I reached over and squeezed her hand. I could see for myself now how weak she’d gotten, and it was beginning to break my heart.
“How are you mom?” I asked her, and she nodded her head. She was never the kind of person to complain or spend time feeling sorry for herself.
“I’m perfect, and I’ve never been happier than I am today!” she exclaimed, and I took a sip of the coffee. It used to taste fine when I lived here, now it tasted bitter and watered down. I gulped it down hurriedly, hoping that mom didn’t catch the expression of disgust on my face.
“And how is everyone else?” I asked casually, and mom shifted in her chair, getting ready to give me all the gossip she had been holding onto for the past ten years.
“Oh, where shall I begin? You know Janie is on her second pregnancy,” she said, and I raised my brows.
“With Brian?” I asked, and mom shook her head.
“Some guy from Orange County. As it turns out, even the first kid wasn’t Brian’s,” mom was chattering away happily.
“Oh, and Sally O’Shea’s husband died last year, gun to the head, flat out killed himself. What a shame, of course, their son…you know, Max, is in prison for the third time now. Or is it the fourth?” mom thought as I forced myself to drink some more of the coffee.
It was good to hear her voice, which wasn’t distorted by the phone. I allowed her the thrill she got from spilling all the gossip, stories that I wasn’t really interested in anymore.
“And Jackson…oh, I guess they call him Glock now, has turned into a strapping young man, baby. You should see him these days, taller than his father used to be and such a handsome face,” I heard her say, and I could feel the muscles in my belly tighten. I was afraid of this happening, and I kept my head down, avoiding mom’s eyes.
“Did you tell him you’re coming back? Have you seen him?” she asked and I forced myself to look up at my mother. Her eyes glowed as she looked at me and I took in a deep breath.
“No, mom, I haven’t been in touch with him. I haven’t seen him, and I’d appreciate it if we didn’t talk about him,” I said, trying to control the mix of emotions that were swelling inside me. Mom looked confused, but she smiled weakly at me and nodded. She had always been on Jackson’s side, I knew that even though she had never openly voiced her opinion.
“So, tell me about what’s going on with the Lamberts. How many of them are still living here?” I asked, in an attempt to change the subject.
Chapter 3
Glock
Two hours ago, I’d walked into The Brass Cock, with enough fresh dollar bills in my wallet to buy everyone drinks. I was on the job and on the prowl, but to the regulars at the bar, I was just a friendly talkative Bad Disciples member who was foolish enough to keep buying them drinks.
The Brass Cock had a reputation of being neutral territory. It opened early in the morning and was shut probably no more than an hour every day. They had good music, an unlimited supply of alcohol and women, and members of some of the local gangs and smaller MCs hung out there on a regular basis.
It was the best place for me to go when I had information to gather. No other member of the Bad Disciples, with their aggressive body language and ability to whip out a gun at a moment’s notice; would have been welcome here. I was friends with everyone. Or so they thought. I’d shoot anyone in the face if Axel instructed me to, or if they did anything that might harm my brothers.
I’d grown up with a bunch of these guys, we all came from the same neighborhood around town; so, there was a relationship of relative trust amongst us.
I was sitting at the counter now, buying drinks for Mickey and Dave, who were already beginning to spill their guts.
“Bullshit, man, absolute fucking bullshit. It’s like if the Dark Knights are around, I’m outta there you know? Fucking unpredictable bastards,” Mickey was saying as he drank his fifth bottle of beer. I was on my second, while Dave stood between our stools nodding his head. Mickey and Dave ran a small-time operation of stealing cars in the neighborhood.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“You said it, man,” I said encouragingly, and Mickey was pleased that I agreed with him.
“And the way they shot at you guys that night!” Dave added and shook his head in dismay. I didn’t really care for their support or sympathy. I wanted to know what they knew, that was all. But it would have to be coaxed out of them, no matter how drunk these guys got, they were always on high alert. They had to be. Just like me, their lives depended on it.
“Retaliation,” I said and took a small sip of my beer. The key here was to give the appearance of drinking like a fish, and not actually getting drunk.
“Bullshit! They shouldn’t be rounding up local women and then selling them off!” Dave commented, and Mickey shook his head.
“I’ve told my sister, yo. Stay inside the house after dark. Can’t believe it’s come to this. Even my sister isn’t safe. You guys gotta do something about them,” Mickey continued, and I took in a deep breath and shrugged my shoulders. I half smiled as I took another swig of my beer. The Bad Disciples have been known to take care of problems around Long Beach. The Dragon Knights were quickly becoming more than just a small problem with our club. They were starting to affect the entire city.
“We’re trying, but they keep rising up,” I said.
“From ashes like a phoenix,” Dave supplied, and I smiled at him, even though I didn’t want to. What did he think he was? A fucking stand-up comedian?
“Heard anything?” I asked them, drinking from my bottle so that they didn’t catch my eyes as I asked them that.
“About the Dark Knights? You know they don’t hang around here. Whatever information we get is from crazy P,” Dave said, and I nodded my head encouragingly at him. Crazy P wasn’t exactly reliable, but at least it would be some information to chase.
“What did he say?” I asked, and Mickey interrupted Dave before he could say anything.
“What he did say was that Sage red-hot Campbell is back in town,” Mickey said, and I felt like my breath had been knocked straight out of me. I gulped down the beer in my mouth and turned to Mickey.
“What did you say?” I asked and gripped my bottle tighter.
“Sage Campbell, I know you’ve not forgotten her. She had that cute little booty and wore really short skirts. Remember that one summer she dyed her hair pink and wore black lipstick like she was some Goth or something?” Mickey was laughing with Dave, who laughed too.
“Still hot though,” Dave added and I felt like the ground was moving underneath my feet.
“She’s back in town?” I asked, and Mickey shrugged his shoulders casually.
“That’s what I heard. When did she leave?” Mickey asked, squinting his eyes.
“Ten years ago. She was seventeen,” I replied, in a deep hoarse voice.
“Ten fucking years. Didn’t she go to San Francisco or something? As far away from Long Beach as she could fucking get,” Dave said, and Mickey laughed again.
&nbs
