Page 25 of Found Through Fire

“Will is heading out of town for a job. You are to treat her with respect if you ever do meet her. Michael is expecting a meeting. They are friends of the club with me vouching for them. They have no interest in taking territory or effecting the club’s business. This is solely to make introductions, nothing more,” Blitz says in his commanding voice. He never steps on the toes of the chapter Pres, but apparently, his thoughts on this are final.

He puts his hand out to Axel, and before I can register what is happening, he takes the memory card back and snaps it in half with his hands. I feel the sting of disappointment for mine and Willow’s future kids. I stop the pout that threatens to show on my face.

“Set it up, and the officers will show up and be the welcome wagon,” my dad says, trying to hold back his irritation at being corrected in front of our entire chapter. He has always been a good President, especially after Mom died. But the last few years, he has become complacent, thinking that the club pretty much runs itself at this point. He hasn’t been as involved.

Something is going on with him, but he hasn’t said anything to me yet. We have always been close, so I’ll wait for him to tell me. After being in the car with my mom during the crash that killed her, he never really left my side more than he had to growing up.

Watching Mom die in front of me—being stuck in the back seat, unable to do anything but watch her bleed out—changed me. Dad brought me around club business more and more so he could keep an eye on me, but it brought out a violent side of meas I got older. I would never hurt a civilian…Well, one that didn’t have it coming. But I like the brutal side of our world. I like hunting down people that went against our club.

Part of me thinks that I would rather be the Enforcer, being the “muscle” of the club instead of making hard decisions. But luckily, Smoke is going to be my VP. He has to think everything through and gives me the information in a way that I need it. I would lead the club to its end if he wasn’t there to rein me in when I want to go off the rails.

We all get up to leave Church. I follow Smoke back to our rooms, wanting to check in with him after what went down. As we turn the corner in the hallway, I see Brandi leaning against my door. Damn it! I knew I shouldn’t have hit it more than once—it’s my usual rule when it comes to club girls. She was just new, and I have been spending too much time at the shop lately to actually go out and put effort into getting laid. I need to cut this shit off, especially now that I know about Willow. I don’t want her to have to deal with club girl shit when she starts coming around.

Brandi sees me approaching and walks over to me, swaying her hips more than normal. She has bleached blonde hair that has brown roots showing at the top, and is wearing a jean skirt so short that her ass cheeks are hanging out and a tank top that is cut just under her tits. She isn’t wearing a bra, so the bottom of those are hanging out, too. She’s hot, but never someone I would consider giving my patch to and making her my ‘Ol Lady. I don’t think any of the Brothers in their right mind would patch a club girl.

“Hey, baby! I was waiting for you,” she says as she runs her hands up and down my chest. Her lipstick is smeared, so I wonder who got her before this since all the Brothers were in Church. I don’t really give a fuck, but usually, club girls don’t go for anyone that is not patched in. More power to her, I guess.

“I’m good, Brandi. The other Brothers are out if you wanna go see who wants a turn.” Removing her hands from my chest, I step around her. I see the disappointment and anger in her eyes as I walk to Smoke’s closed door without knocking and let myself in. I know he hates it when I do that, but I’m his best friend, so he has to suck it up; best friends don’t have to deal with stupid shit like boundaries.

He's lounging on his bed and looks up from the journal that I know is from his mom with an annoyed look. “Sure, come on in,” he says in a sarcastic tone. Ignoring him, I walk further into the room and take a seat on top of the desk, completely ignoring the chair.

“Get your ass off my desk,” he says while bringing his attention back to the journal in his hand.

“Nah, I’m good here. So, have you decided what you are going to do about the whole sister thing?” I ask, watching his face for hints about what he’s thinking. Smoke keeps his emotions close to his chest. He thinks they cloud your judgment. Too bad for him, I know all of his tells by the way I see him take a slow breath and scratch his eyebrow with his thumb. It’s obvious he’s nervous about the “situation.” He’ll fill me in when he is ready.

“Not sure yet. I need to apologize for what I said to her about our mom. But I don’t know after that. I want to ask her some questions about Mom, but I don’t have any of her contact info.” A hint of guilt comes through his voice.

“You can ask Blitz,” I throw out after thinking for a second. If I’m going to meet her, he needs to reach out. It’s mostly for him, but I need some help, too.

“This is going to be awkward as fuck, but I might as well do it now,” he says, getting up and walking out his door, leaving me alone. Not upset with him ditching me, I head over to the box that is open on his bed, removing the lid and grabbing thepictures of his other family. I’m assuming the most recent is on top.

Taking the picture in my hand, I study it deeply. My future wife is beautiful. She has wild, curly, dirty blonde hair that falls over her shoulders, and a small face and nose that make her blue eyes look giant. Her and her mom look tiny sitting next to the guys in the picture.

Willow is holding a picture of Smoke when he was a baby. I can see the similarities between her, Smoke, and Griz. It’s no doubt that they are all related. I stare at the picture for a little longer, memorizing her face before setting it back in the box, putting the lid on.

I walk out of Smoke’s room and decide to clear my head after all the shit that happened today. I head out to my bike and hop on. I make my way to the shop, needing to get lost in the build that we are doing.

The shop is mine and Smoke’s baby. We started upgrading our bikes in the clubhouse garage, and that turned into us building brand new bikes for ourselves. We posted them on social media, and people wanted to pay us to build them one. It slowly took off after that.

Before that, we were both working at club businesses, and the second we were able to start our own, we jumped on it. Our entire lives revolved around the club, so we wanted something completely separate. We pay our dues, but the club gets no say in how we run our shop.

I pull up, get off my bike, and head in the door. It’s one of the older buildings in town. It was used as an auto shop back in the day, so it already had the space that we needed for the builds. We started renting the shop, not just because we had too much business to keep it up at the clubhouse, but to be able to get shit done without constant interruptions. There is always someoneat the clubhouse, or a party going on. It’s been so bad lately with the new wave of people prospecting and the new hang-arounds.

Usually, we only have about three new prospects per year, but this year, we have twelve. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but the clubhouse is starting to feel cramped. The town is growing, so more people are hearing about the club and wanting to check it out. I like a party just as much as the next guy, but it’s getting fuckin’ ridiculous. I’m thinking about getting a place outside of the clubhouse in town. Some of the Brothers do that when they get ‘Ol Ladies that don’t want to be on club property all of the time.

Walking into the shop, the smell of paint and oil surrounds me, making me feel calm and at home. There is an area in the front that we can set up with seating to meet clients; too bad that isn’t happening. Jackson and I communicate with possible clients online. Then, if we decide to do the build, they can speak to us on the phone.

We don’t have the best people skills. Smoke is quiet and prefers to observe people, whereas I have no patience for bullshit and have been known to end a conversation with a swift “fuck off.” It’s easier to just have them write out the details they want, and we decide if we are going to do it. It’s worked for us so far, but we are going to have to go to a trade show that we were recently invited to. I would rather put my hand in a fuckin’ wood chipper than have to stand behind a booth and talk to people all fuckin’ day, but Smoke says that we have to keep momentum of the shop going, and I guess if he has to go, I do, too. We should bring in someone that can deal with the people part of the business, and we can just focus on the bikes.

I walk to the project that we’ve been working on for an out-of-state client. We finished building the engine last week, and I am finishing up painting the gas tank. I need to bring someone in soon full-time to help with the paint. It’s my favorite part ofthe builds, but there is such a high demand now, I can’t keep up and give the amount of time required for the custom detailed work that I want.

I posted an ad, and I’m still working through people’s portfolios, hoping to get one that clicks. It blows my fuckin’ mind when I think back to how we started in the garage at the clubhouse, and now, we could call this business a “success.” Smoke and I both had a moment of shock when we found out that we could quit our jobs at the club businesses and do our “side hustle” full time.

About an hour into working on the bike, I hear the door in the back of the shop open. I look up to see Smoke stomping in and taking one of the work stools. He pulls it up the other side of the bike and starts to work on it, not saying anything.

“So, how did it go?” I ask him after a few minutes of working in silence. I’m not good with the quiet. Usually, I turn the music on while I’m working, but I had a lot on my mind when I came in, and then it seemed like too much effort to grab my phone and hook it up to the speaker.

“He gave it to me, but I got a lecture about not being a dick to her if I’m planning on reaching out,” he says over the top of the bike.