Prodigal Son (13 page)

I
f you’re trying to get back into my hotel room, you win! See you around 5:30 tomorrow.

I put my phone back in my pocket and picked up the socket wrench that Joker had asked for.

“This the one?” I asked as I handed it to him.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be a natural, Luke.”

I watched while he tightened — or loosened, I wasn’t quite sure — a bolt on the bike he was fixing up for me. I’d told him that I could probably afford to buy a new one, but he’d insisted that if we worked on one together that he could teach me more. I had enough money in the bank to buy all of the Sons new bikes, but I figured that I should keep that information to myself.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I guess if I pick up a little here and there, the Sons will be more likely to vote me in as a prospect on Sunday.”

Joker put down the wrench and headed over to the refrigerator in the corner of his garage. He pulled out another beer. “Want one?”

“Nah. Little early for me,” I answered, astounded at my biological father’s capacity to consume alcohol.

“Luke,” he said after he’d taken a drink. “You got nothing to worry about on the vote. I’m the President of this MC, and you’re my son. You’ll be voted in.”

I’d learned a lot over the last few days, having spent time with Joker, Zeno, and even with Bug. I’d learned nothing that improved my impression of the VP, and I knew that even though he hadn’t officially made Krystal his old lady, I still probably wasn’t supposed to be taking her out tomorrow night. I’d decided that my game plan was going to be to beg for forgiveness if I got busted, rather than asking for permission ahead of time.

“Joker, I ‘m pretty sure Bug doesn’t like me. It only takes two votes to keep me out, right?”

Joker laughed. “Son, Bug don’t like anyone. I’ve already talked to J.C., and he’s gonna to what I’ve told him to do. Everyone else will fall in line. Trust me.”

“And you’re sure I should pitch the dispensary idea on the same day?”

“Yup. Every one of us is hurting for money. You give us a plan, and the Sons will be on your side. Even Bug will see the sense of keeping you around if you’re giving the MC some income.”

“Yeah. I talked to my buddy in California last night, and he said it’s going to take some time to get the license approved. Since the government’s involved, everything will take longer.”

“He give you any ideas about where to get some merchandise before we get out own supply planted and harvested?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Shoot.” Joker went back to work on the bike.

“He knows a couple of guys in Arizona who’re growing the same strain that we did in college. He said that he can hook me up with them and that they can probably sell us enough high-quality weed to get the whole state high.”

“Sounds good.”

“I thought we could maybe take a ride to Arizona. I think I’m ready for a longer ride.”

“Well, we can bring it up in church on Sunday. See if any of the guys want to go along.”

“I figure some of them might be pissed that I’m gonna be a prospect after only having been around for a week, and that might give us a way to get to know one another.”

Joker shook his head. “Look, Luke, I get what you’re saying, but I wouldn’t talk like that — all touchy-feely, psychology bullshit — in the meeting.”

I must have looked a little taken aback.

“We’re brothers, but we don’t usually talk about bonding and shit. You just do it, but you don’t really talk about it. Make sense?”

I nodded and thought for a few minutes while Joker started up the bike and listened for something only he could hear. While he made minute adjustments to fix whatever problem he’d perceived, I realized that I had a lot farther to go than I’d realized. I wasn’t just going to have to learn how to ride and maintain a bike. I was going to have to learn what it meant to be a part of a whole new culture. I wasn’t used to thinking of women as property or feelings as embarrassing. The last thing I wanted was for Bug to tell me to man up.

Joker killed the engine.

“I get it, man. I can do this,” I told him with confidence.

“Of course you can. You’re my son.”

The door from the house opened, and Sable walked out into the garage, saving me from having to respond to Joker’s statement. I was happy that he was so enthusiastic about meeting me and opening his home and his MC to me, but it still felt strange. It was almost too much, too fast.

“Beer for breakfast, Daniel?”

“Mind your own business, woman,” Joker replied, rolling his eyes.

“Did you get everything set up?” I asked Sable.

“Yup. We have an appointment at ten tomorrow morning at Cannabis Club, and another meeting at two with THC Healing.”

“Great. It was a good idea to see if we could talk to the owners of some other dispensaries. Hopefully, they can give us some tips about getting our license as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah, I went to high school with the guy at the THC place, and Moses had done a lot of tattoo work for him and his friends, so he was happy to see us.” Sable sat down on the steps that led from the house to the garage floor. “I wonder what Moses would have thought about all of this.”

I was riveted. Everyone in the club still talked about Moses like the man was a god. No one seemed to know exactly what a federal agent had been doing in his house, or why both Moses and the agent had ended up dead, but I was sure curious. I didn’t want to ask a bunch of questions, but I listened carefully anytime the topic came up.

Joker pointedly avoided Sable’s glare while he opened another beer. “Something had been going on with that boy. I don’t know exactly what, but I think he would have supported Luke’s idea.”

Sable studied Joker. “I think so, too,” she agreed. “And it’ll be nice to have some legitimate income coming in.”

Joker looked like he was going to argue with Sable, but he closed his mouth. “You’re right,” he agreed. “It will. I just hope it’s as profitable as Luke thinks it will be.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt,” I said, absolutely certain I was right. “The only people who fail in this business are the ones who don’t have sound business plans, or the ones who smoke up all their profits. Neither is the case here. I can write business plans in my sleep, and I’m going to make sure that we run things on the up-and-up.”

Sable smiled. “You’re going to need to decide who you’re going to have work the grow operation and the shop.”

Joker looked at Sable like she had three heads. “I don’t recall asking you for you input on club business.”

Sable rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Joker.”

“Actually, I was thinking about asking Sable to help with getting started growing, and she was nice enough to make the appointments for tomorrow.”

Sable stood up. “Or maybe Daniel will take up gardening, and he’ll be able to help you. He has such a green thumb.” She left her sarcasm behind as she headed back inside.

“You’re gonna learn,” Joker said. “It don’t pay to get women involved with club business. Next thing you know, they’re gonna be telling you how to run things and trying to meddle in shit that’s none of their concern.”

I wasn’t about to get into a debate about gender politics with Joker. “I hear you, man,” I said.

Joker clearly wanted to make a point. “Look, Luke, if you want to ask your mother some bullshit gardening questions to make her feel better, then go right ahead. But she’s not involved in club business.”

“She’s going with me to visit the shops tomorrow. Is that okay?” I wasn’t really asking permission, so much as trying to figure out where the boundaries were.

“I guess. Your mother’s actually pretty smart about money, but don’t tell her I said that.”

I laughed. “You know, she might actually like to hear you say something nice every once in a while.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe she shouldn’t be such a bitch all the time. Look, Luke, I know she’s your mother, but Sons don’t get involved with members’ relationships with their old ladies. That’s my business.”

Good grief, there were a lot of rules involved in being an outlaw biker.

I
checked my phone for the time and was relieved to see that it wasn’t seven quite yet. The day had been a blur, and I was so tired that I could just crawl in bed and not come out for a week. I’d gone to my two classes, worked the lunch shift at the Taphouse, gone grocery shopping, and had freshened up before I loaded my groceries in the car and headed for Bug’s house.

Bug wasn’t exactly an adventurous eater, and to be honest, I hadn’t been either until I’d started the new job. Since then, I’d tried all sorts of things I’d never had before, and I was going to try a couple of new recipes that night. I’d also packed a secret ingredient in my purse — two sleeping pills, crushed up as fine as I could get them. I figured that I’d mix them with some whiskey before dinner, or just sprinkle them on Bug’s steak if all else failed. I just had to make sure I kept his plate separate from my own!

I pulled into Bug’s drive and knew better than to expect him to help me carry stuff inside. I threw my backpack over my shoulder, not that I planned to spend the night, but I didn’t want Bug to know that. I grabbed the bags of groceries and headed inside.

“Jesus, Christ,” Bug said as I set the groceries on the counter. “How long is dinner gonna take? I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“Lovely to see you, too, darling,” I said, knowing that I was taking the risk of pissing Bug off, but unwilling to just let his rudeness slide.

He must have realized that he’d really been rude. “It was nice of you to offer to cook dinner,” he mumbled as he left the kitchen.

I was about to get dinner going when I looked at the sink and realized that it was completely full of dirty dishes. The fuck I was going to do them. I mixed up some cornbread, stirred in some finely chopped jalapeño and tomato, and put it in the oven to bake. I went outside, stepping over empty beer bottles on the back patio, and turned on the propane grill to let it warm up. The bagged salad I’d brought wouldn’t take more than a minute or two to throw together, so I figured I had a little time.

I found Bug in the living room, watching a television show about Navy SEALS.

“Want a drink?” I asked, hoping that I could knock him out sooner, rather than later.

“Is the Pope Catholic?”

I laughed, even though I’d heard his lame attempt at a joke hundreds of times. “Whiskey or beer?”

“Maker’s on the rocks, sweetheart,” he answered, without even looking away from the television.

I saw the rest of my life spread out before me if I didn’t make some changes. I saw a man who called me “sweetheart” only when he wanted another drink, and then only if he was in a good mood. I saw bruises that he would tell me were my fault. I saw Bug unable to get it up until he could make me cry out in pain. I saw myself — dropping out of school to take care of Bug’s children and raising a son who would treat women as badly as Bug treated me. It was right at that moment — when Bug had actually said something halfway nice to me — that I knew I had to get out. One way or another, I had to force myself to walk away from Bug and find something better for myself.

I wasn’t sure when, but I knew it had to happen.

On my way back into the kitchen, I picked up the bottle of Maker’s Mark on the dining room table. I scanned the table top — not that anyone would ever be able to eat a meal on it, covered with junk mail and bills, most of which had past due notices in red ink at the top. If the mail was anything to go by, Bug’s money troubles sure weren’t getting any better.

Pretty sure that nothing would separate Bug from the sofa other than a nuclear bomb, or perhaps the urge to pee, I fished the ziplock bag from my purse. I looked at the white powder and tried to decide how much to put in the drink. I wasn’t concerned about his safety; I knew that two sleeping pills wouldn’t kill him, even if I mixed them with whiskey. I was more worried that they would make the whiskey taste different and that he wouldn’t finish the drink. I needed him to drink more than a sip to knock him out.

I grabbed a glass from the counter and put half of the powder in. If I had to, I’d fix him a second drink. I went to the freezer and opened it to find four empty ice cube trays and only two ice cubes in the bucket. I sighed, filled the empty trays, telling myself that I wouldn’t have to clean up after Bug for much longer, and I dropped the cubes in the glass. I topped it off with several ounces of whiskey, stirred it until the pill had completely dissolved, and headed back out to deliver my cocktail.

I put the glass in Bug’s hand without a word and walked back outside to clean off the grill. I didn’t wait around for the thanks I knew I wouldn’t get. Grill scraped clean, I headed back inside to get the steaks, and I was pleased to see that the glass of whiskey was nearly half empty already. If I could get him drunk and sleepy quickly enough, I wouldn’t even have to bother trying to act like I wanted to sleep with him, a bonus for sure.

Salad in bowls, mine with the caesar dressing that had come in the bag, Bug’s with ranch — the only dressing he would eat – I called into the living room. “Bug, dinner will be ready in five minutes. Where do you want to eat?”

I knew what he’d answer, but I figured I’d give him a choice.

“My show’s on, and besides, that table’s a fuckin’ mess,” he called back, like it was my fault he’d stacked all his junk on the table.

“Coming right up, my lord and master,” I muttered under my breath.

“Huh?” he hollered from the living room.

“Ready in a minute,” I said as I went back out to get the steaks off the grill.

I pulled my steak off when it was about medium and left Bug’s on longer, until I was certain he wouldn’t see any pink in the middle. I plated everything and carried Bug’s in to the living room. He hadn’t bothered to even set up the tray tables, so I set down his dinner, set up his table, and put his plate and salad bowl in front of him.

He looked at the food. “What the fuck did you put in the cornbread?”