“Aw man, what the fuck? You know my ole lady’s got dinner cooking. She’s gonna have my nuts.”
Ace shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “Told you not to settle down, man. You brought this on yourself.”
Brick curses under his breath before whipping out his phone, no doubt to let his girl know he won’t be home as planned. That’s just the reality of our work, though. He gets it, and so does she. There aren’t a lot of women connected to the Black Crows for this very reason. We aren’t a leisure club; we don’t hustle a little weed or guns once in a while. This is an empire, an economy. Once you’re in it, you’re in it, and the only way out is in a wooden fucking box.
My dad made all of that very clear to me when he got out of prison all those years ago. I’d resisted prospecting the club, leaning towards the same all-American dream Nick was chasing. That we both were. But Snakes made it very clear that not only would that be a poor decision; it would be an impossible one, on his orders.
“You heading back to the club?” Ace asks.
I shake my head as I throw my leg over my bike and fire it up.
He frowns, cocking his head to one side. “You good, man? You’ve been extra… edgy lately.”
I want to scoff at him. No, I’m not fucking good. Not since I walked into that goddamn club, that goddamn room and shovedmy cock through that hole. Not since she began plaguing every thought of every moment of my life afterwards. She’s like an infection, and I want her gone. The only thing I can think to do is starve her out of my system, but with every growing day, the pain of doing that is becoming damn near unmanageable.
I’d never admit any of that shit to another living soul, though. So, instead, I shrug and reach my hand out to his. He bumps his fist against mine warily before nodding his acceptance and firing up his own bike.
Ace prospected the club a little after I joined up, so we’ve known each other for a while, and I’m sure he’d consider us great friends. He’s an alright guy—good in a fight, takes orders well—but that’s about as close as I’ll ever get to someone in the club. Honestly, to anyone anywhere.
When I pull up to a stop light, I feel my phone buzz in my jacket, and I quickly pull it out.
Nick: Hey, man. Game’s on tonight. Want to meet up?
He stopped asking me years ago. I guess now I’ve been to dinner, he assumes the door is open. Fuck, I wish I could leave it open. I’ve missed Nick. He wasn’t just a friend; he was my goddamn brother. Seeing him, even Anthony and Mom… it was like the hole in my chest was temporarily patched. The only thing that brought the good vibes down was sitting at the table withher.
Before I’ve thought it through, I’m responding to him, shooting off a text just before the light turns green.
Me: Sure. Meet me at the GOAT.
It’s a sports bar that’s almost considered Northgate—out of the direct jurisdiction of the Black Crows and hopefully far enough away from anyone that could spot us. The last thing I want is Nick getting caught up in any of this shit.
Nick must have been in the area because he beats me to the bar. As soon as I walk in, a goofy-ass grin lights up his face, then he’s jumping off the bar stool and making his way over to me. He pulls me in for a quick hug, clapping my back as he nods to his seat.
“C’mon—I got the first round ordered.”
I sit down and take the beer Nick offers me, dipping my head in thanks.
“I wasn’t sure you were gonna accept the invite,” Nick says, almost hesitantly.
“I wasn’t sure I was gonna either,” I reply then take a sip of my beer.
“I’ve missed you, bro. I’m glad you’re around.”
I don’t know how to tell him that I won’t be around for much longer. I can’t be. The more times I hang with him, go to Mom’s, anything, the higher the chance of someone catching on. And then no one is safe. I’m not bringing my life into theirs; I’ll die before I let that happen. Instead of saying all that, though, I nod and shrug like it’s no big deal.
“I’ve missed you too,” I say before turning my attention to the TV in front of us.
Nick does the same, and as time goes by and drinks go down, we both loosen up—until we’re screaming and hollering when our boys pull a home run out of their asses.
“Fuck yeahhhh!” Nick shouts before high-fiving a stranger and then me.
I laugh at his tipsy ass as he wobbles on the stool, and he grins back at me.
“Fuck, man. Why haven’t we been doing this all this time? It’s bullshit.”
I nod. “I’m sorry.”
Nick shrugs, pushing my shoulder and waving me off. “S’no big deal. Anthony was never upset, and you’ve won Mom’s forgiveness.”