Page 11 of Between Brothers

“You have your certificate; you can work at the shop now. You can dive into the life you’ve been neglecting and pretending you weren’t born into. I swear, you’re an ingrate. Just look at you. Sitting there gawking at me like I’m fucking speaking gibberish. You were born into greatness, son. You were born for big things. Both of you. You’re my boys, and it’s time to take what is owed to us. No more settling for escapes and scraps. We’re taking it.”

“Taking what?” King piped up.

“Listen, as far as I’m concerned, my mother always told me didn’t nobody owe me a goddamn thing in this life. So, yeah…. Enlighten us, ol’ man.” I barely contained my amusement, my tone tinging with laughter.

He stared at me like he was debating on slitting my throat right where we sat.

“The fucking Saints, dumbasses. I’m taking the Saints from Forty. It should’ve been mine. I put in the work for that seat. All he ever did was snitch.” The way the last word rolled off his tongue sent chills through me.

I’d watched my father carve up a snitch or two in my younger years. I knew exactly what that word meant to Birdman.

“Forty is a fed?” King whispered, unable to lend words to the thought.

Birdman grimaced, and cut his eyes toward King, “I should have drowned you both at birth. Can I count on you or not?”

I sniffed, desperately trying to hold back my laughter as I awaited my brother’s answer.

When the silence spanned, I found them both staring at me again.

“What do you say, King? You going to hand your dad a coup and swallow this story?”

“It’s not a story. Kennedy already agreed to meet me. We just need you to… Well, he’ll tell you when the time is right.” King shrugged.

My whole face soured with the reality of the moment. They weren’t fucking kidding. Birdman meant to kill Forty, and my brother was already aware…

I tried to find my footing between paralyzing rounds of disbelief and nauseating levels of disgust.

“He isn’t going to betray us. He’s a fucking Crowe,” King attempted to sign me on.

“He is Penny’s son,” Kate pointedly sang, drawing my attention to her presence at the opening of the hallway.

“I am Penny’s son,” I quickly shot back, all but daring her to suggest that fact was anything short of a blessing.

She fought a smile as she lowered her gaze and committed to entering the dining area. She sashayed over to the counter and took her time pouring an oversized cup of coffee.

“Still putting meth in the filter so you can keep up with the Sweethearts?” It was beneath me, but there was something about my mother’s name falling off her painted lips that left me incapable of leaving it alone.

She made a sound between a snort and a laugh before turning to give her weight to the counter’s ledge while she studied me.

As much as I wanted to let her have it, I was intrigued by her presence. How long had she been there?

Did she know her husband was planning an MC coup against his own fucking club?

Was she okay with it?

The smile that curled across her lips plucked a disgusted groan from me. Birdman popped me on the shoulder, drawing my attention back to him.

“You’re serious?” I huffed.

“You’re slow.” He nodded, like it was something he was finally accepting.

Kate laughed wholeheartedly and casually made her way back down the trailer hall toward their bedroom.

“What the fuck do you want me to do?” I huffed, eager to get the hell out of there.

“Do Pacman.” He said it so flippantly, I wasn’t sure I heard him.

I had to have imagined it.