“The prospects?” Skull asks.
“Yeah, they rub me the wrong way.”
“Ain’t given them too much thought. I get kind of blind being in the bar so much. What did they do?”
“Nothing yet. Just a gut feeling,” I say.
“It’s your right to give them shit and test them,” Shadow suggests.
“Yeah, but I’m trying not to be too obvious.”
“Please, let me do what I do best, clown motherfuckers and test their patience,” Skull says.
I laugh as he stands and stalks over to the stage. “Damn, I forgot how quickly he could wild out,” I say.
“Yeah, you can always count on Skull to do things without hesitation.” Shadow snickers.
We watch as he barks at the prospects who jump to their feet, standing at attention like this is boot camp and he’s their commanding officer. They practically shrink as Skull unloads. I can’t blame them for that. If you don’t know him, he’s a scary ass dude. With broad shoulders, muscles on top of muscles, and his mohawk, he cuts an intimidating figure.
“Have you seen the bathroom? It’s fucking disgusting. Go clean that shit up, prospects.”
It’s comical watching the two all but trip over one another as they rush to do his bidding. The malicious looks given by Scott aren’t missed. It’s not the action of a man trying to prove himself.
Careful, your mask is slipping.
Skull makes his way back slowly, stopping to have words with the others who share their approval of his actions. They haven’t been hazed much since they started—Mouth’s seen to that—but it’s a rite of passage he can’t stop inevitably.
“You see who has his back?” Shadow asks.
“Most people, seems like,” I reply.
“Skull is likeable, but I think this is more of a drawing of lines and a show of support. Mouth has friends in the club who are willing to look the other way and let him ride out the last years he has left. But recently, he’s rubbed a lot of people the wrong way and they’re showing support.”
I watch my father and see he’s taking note of the people talking to Skull. I sense the winds of change creeping in. The club is about to go through a civil war. I scan the crowd until my eyes land on Stone. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s very aware of the division going on. It makes me wonder if Mouth is running the very thing that earned his road name. Opinionated, cocky, and loud, he didn’t back down or mince words. It was going to be his downfall.
Charm stands. I pretend to watch the strippers as he makes his way toward the back to smoke. When my father stays put, I wait a few more minutes and then follow.
Losing myself in the crowd, I stop by the bar. “Can I get a beer, darling? Whatever’s on ice is fine,” I ask the scantily clad brunette hired for tonight.
“You got it, handsome.” She sets a Bud on the counter.
I scoop it up and disappear into the crowd. Coming out on the other end,
I slip out the back door.
Charm is seated in one of the chairs. “What’s up, bro?” he asks.
“Just coming to see how you’re doing. We haven’t had any one-on-one in a long time.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s the life of a sponsor,” he says with a quiet chuckle that sounds forced.
I laugh. “I forgot you were moving up in the ranks now.”
“Fuck you, Echo,” Charm says, flipping me off.
“No thanks, I don’t do guys or incest.” It feels good to laugh with my baby brother. For a moment, things are normal. He lets down the wall he’s had up between us. I see the stress he’s carrying, and what I suspect is fear. He can feel the mounting tension as well as anyone else. “Inflated ego aside, you doing okay?” I ask.
He toys with the cigarette between his fingers. “I’m not sure what I am, man. You know that moment when you first understand your parents aren’t always in the right?”