Rod (4 page)

“Initiation for you is going to be
hell.
 
It could range from any one of the
officers demanding you do a task for them.
 
That includes running collections for protection money, breaking
someone’s nose on command, or getting beer for the club – or all of the above.”

“I get that, pops,” I say in agreement.

I’m finally a prospect.
 
It’s about time.

“Are you sure you can handle all of this?”
he presses.

“Yes,” I reply.
 
I hold myself in the chair to prevent from
spouting off with happiness.

“If you think you’ve proven yourself
already, then that’s nothing.
 
Trish, I
want you to really think long and hard about this decision.
 
The club is a dangerous place.
 
Just last week, Josh Lucas got his nose
broken for keeping the peace in the Lair.
 
It’s not easy, and it’s not always fun.”

“I know what I’m getting myself into,
pops,” I reassure him.

He takes a bottle out of the bottom drawer
of his oak desk and deposits two shot glasses on the top.
 
He pours the whiskey in each glass and raises
one.

“If you’re sure, Trish,” he says, shot
glass held high.

“I’m sure,” I say, clinking my shot glass
with his.

“Then it’s official.
 
I’ll make the announcement when the club
reconvenes on Thursday.”

“Awesome,” I say and he can tell that
there is another question on my mind.

“Anything else?”

“I overheard your conversation with mom
about Mickey being in jail, what was that all about?” I ask.

He looks at me like I’m that nosey, bratty
child of his all over again.

“None of your fucking business,” he rants.
 
I’ll take his good moods when I can get them.

He hands me back my notebook and I stand
to leave.

“So I get a patch then?”

“No, you don’t get a fucking patch as a
prospect.
 
You have to wait until you
prove yourself.”

“Oh,” I manage before leaving his office.

“Trish,” he stops me.
 
“Don’t let your mother know just yet.”

“Alright,” I say as I close his door
behind myself.
 

I text Jasmine to let her know that I’ve
been granted rights to the back room.
 
She texts me back a smiley face with the words: “About time.”

I feel happy.
 
I pass my mother to the garage where my bike
stands.
 
I hit the garage button door,
raising it up and I set the timer to close the door in thirty seconds.
 
Climbing on my pink ride, I rev it up and
take off.
 
This calls for a joy ride.

I need to feel the cool air in my face as
I jet out onto the street and hit thirty-five miles per hour.
 
I feel a rush of energy overcome me as I
weave my way to the interstate.
 
Twenty
minutes pass and I’m on the highway.
 
The
road is littered with slow moving cars and people seemingly just getting off
from work.
 
I hit the fast lane and
become a blur of pink and black within seconds.

Invincible.
 
Two hours pass and I’m back home, having
spent all of the nervous energy I have inside of me.
 
I hit the numbers on the keypad to raise the
garage door and park my bike inside.
 

Days pass until my first meeting is upon
me.
 
I’m nervous for the potential
‘favoritism’ comments, but I put my jacket on and hop on my pink machine.
 
I am fully geared up.
 
Winding down the dirt roads to the pavement,
I find myself at the Dragon’s Lair.
 
There are thirty or so motorcycles all outside in a line circling the
establishment.

I walk in the doors proudly, and with a
nod from Jasmine, I seat myself at the bar.
 
Dad isn’t here yet.
 
My eyes
wander the room until I find Rodney engrossed in a conversation with
Pence.
 

We all sit in anticipation of my father’s
arrival.
 
I have no knowledge of his
agenda for the evening, but I hope I’m received well.
 

Suddenly, the roar of his bike announces
his arrival.
 
Two seconds later, a thrash
through the door signifies his presence.
 
There is fire in his eyes.
 
He’s
full of panic as he moves quickly to the head of the club.
 
Running his hands through his hair, he
appears distraught.
 
He scans the room
until our eyes meet.
 
He takes a deep
breath as if he feels relief.

He yells, “Alright, shut the fuck up and
listen.
 
Serious fucking business
here.
 
My twelve-year-old daughter Sasha
is missing!”

His voice is full of rage and panic.
 
He doesn’t know what to do.
 
A hush falls over everyone in attendance as
we decipher his words.
 
It registers
deeply with the officers.
 
They look to
my father with devotion in their eyes.
 
They look on to see me sitting there, in shock.
 
I have no words.

Questions are on everyone’s minds as we
all try to piece together our thoughts.
 
I swallow hard.
 
My poor baby
sister is missing.

I put my head down.
 
I am overwhelmed at the idea that my sister
has been taken.
 

“Fuck,” I say quietly to avoid disrupting
my father.
 
He tells everyone that he
barely has any details.
 
A tear wells up
in my eyes as I think back to the last time I saw Sasha.
 
She looked like an angel standing there on
her mother’s porch.
 
I feel desperate to
go back in time and live in that moment, just to know that she’s okay.

I wretch; my stomach immediately feels
hollow and I feel my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.
 

The club member to my right consoles me
with a pat of my shoulder and some words I don’t hear.
 
Panic strikes and I feel the urge to comb the
streets of Hinton Township on my bike to find my sister.
 
Poor Sasha; scared and alone.

Chapter Two

Rodney Vinton

I hush the brothers around me with a
nudge.
 
I need to hear this.
 
I scramble to hear the details.
 
Listening intently to Ronan reveal all he
knows about his daughter’s disappearance, my eyes wander to Trish.
 
She’s sitting there looking beautiful, but
has a scared look on her face.
 
She is a
mess.

Ronan’s eyes connect with Trish’s.
 
His words ring out.

“You should go home and stay with your
mother,” he commands her.

“What the fuck?” she protests.

“You don’t need to be here for this
Trish.
 
They could come after you next.”

“I can help.”

“No, you can’t.
 
This was a deliberate act.
 
These people want something.
 
If
they
 
take
you too, it’s more leverage for
them.”

“I can’t just fucking sit at home and do
nothing.”

They argue like they’re the only ones
here.
 

“That is exactly what you’re going to do.”

He raises his voice.
 
He doesn’t have time for this bullshit.
 
His eyes move to the people surrounding her
as if to tell them to help her on her way out.

“Go,” he yells.
 
“This is way too close to home.
 
This is personal.
 
As a matter of fact, anyone who is not a
member or prospect needs to get the fuck out.
 
This is personal business and if you don’t have anything to contribute,
you can go, too.”

With a wave of his arm, several of the
guys who are ‘hang-arounds’ turn toward the exit.
 
He raises his eyebrows at Trish as if to ask
why she’s still sitting here.
 
She gets
up in a display of protest.
 

“This fucking sucks, for the record,” she
states plainly on her way out.
 
I gather
that she is the only person who will ever speak that way to the president of
the Green Dragons.

I steady myself in my seat.
 
I won’t sit around.
 
Like Trish, I want to help.
 

“So here’s what I know,” Ronan tells us.
“Missy called me at three PM today to tell me that Sasha hasn’t made it home
from school today.
 
She said that she
called the school and they told her Sasha wasn’t there at all.”

Ronan’s words hang in the air and they
leave me unsure as to who would do such a thing to such a big and powerful
man.
 

He angrily continues, “I’ll tell you
fucking what.
 
I will go to every
goddamned door in this fucking township – all fourteen
thousand
of them to find Sasha.
 
If anyone knows
anything, come forward now and you’ll spare yourselves an ass kicking.”

I look around to find no one taking that
offer.
 
Some of the younger prospects
appear to be scared at the idea of getting their asses kicked, but I remain
vigilant.
 

Ronan tells us, “We need to get organized,
go door to door, and see if anyone knows anything.”

Justin
Hanke
chimes in to ask, “What about the cops?”

“The cops
ain’t
no fucking help, kid,” Mickey chirps up in his faded Irish accent.
 
“Never have been and never will be.”

“This is personal.
 
Ronan says bitterly.

With a vengeance, he tells us, “I swear to
fucking God I will strangle whoever’s responsible with my own bare fucking
hands.”

Minutes pass and he
calms
himself.
 
Once again, he quiets the room
to address us all.

“This is probably the work of a rival
club.
 
Damn, it’s been eight hours
already and she could be in California for all we know.
 
Even after two days, their help is shoddy at
best.
 
We have to take this matter
seriously.
 
That’s my baby girl.
 
Anyone who finds her will be rewarded
handsomely.
 
Anyone with information that
leads to her being found will also be rewarded.”

I give no thought to any reward.
 
I stand up, walk over to Ronan and extend my
hand.

“Rodney Vinton,” I tell him.
 
He grips my hand in his.
 

“Hey, brother,” he says with his eyes full
of determination.
 
Anger colors his face
red and he looks like he’s about to lose all self-control.
 
I can imagine his thoughts are wrought with
feelings of regret or just pure retaliation for such an act.
 

“I just want you to know that I will do
whatever I can to see that your daughter is back in your arms, safe and sound,”
I tell him with matched determination.
 
“You have my fucking word on it.”

The door creaks open and Trish pokes her
head inside.
 
“I can help,” she offers,
but he waves her off.
 
She sticks around
so that I can try to plead her case.

“Maybe she could prove to be an asset?” I
pose the question, but by the look on Ronan’s face, it gets the veto immediately.

“It could hurt our cause if she’s out
there,” he tells me.

He looks in her direction and says, “I
need you to be exactly where I know I can find you.
 
I don’t want you adding to this crisis.
 
If it’s personal, and I think it is, they might
come after you next.”

She looks down, unhappily, but shuts the
door behind herself.

Taking notice of her retreat, he tells me,
“Grab a team of people and get out there and look.”