Page 3 of Eternally Ginger

“Because of his tattoo?”

“Yeah, that, and I wasn’t sure if he could take care of them.”

“He actually got the tat when he was active military. Before the club. As far as taking care of them, we all take turns helping him, mostly the prospects, though.”

“Wow. I didn’t know Spider served.” His eyes widened in surprise, and his bottom lip stuck out a little further as he thought aloud. “The more you know.”

A loud laugh traveled out of my mouth, and my head hung in disbelief. I was really glad Hawk and I connected after the state party Spider and the guys threw in my honor for my early release from prison. I had to admit, when we first met, I did not care for him at all. In fact, at the time, I would have been perfectly happy going the rest of my life without crossing paths with him again. Now, I was more than grateful to be able to call him my brother. Everyone deserved a second chance; I was walking proof of that overused clichéd statement. Although I would lay money on the saying, “If dead men could talk, they would argue,” that I wasn’t deserving of anything, especially mercy.

We both got to our feet, and with a smile, I said, “You ever need anything in Ankeny, let me know.”

“Will do, brother.”

* * *

“Are y’all gonna get off your asses so we can get this shit done or what?” Grudge asked as soon as his foot crossed the clubhouse threshold.

“Thought you were going to be here yesterday, fuck-stick.” Wily flicked his sunglasses upward with the tip of his finger as he half-heartedly joked and let them drop back onto the bridge of his nose. We were all nursing our hangovers after partying a little too hard with Hawk last night.

“Look, if you all got your shit crossed, that’s on you. Not me,” he snapped, evidently not finding Wily funny at all. The rest of us usually did, but the guy had a specialty of grating people’s nerves.

“No one got anything crossed, brother.” I stepped in between them to diffuse the situation before it could escalate. Nobody had the energy to deal with that kind of crap today. Especially me. “Hawk dropped in from Ankeny last night and helped us out. Just missed him, actually.” My wrist bent as I twisted the cap off the bottle of whiskey and curled it in the bend of my fingers, praying a drink might help me feel better. My head spun, and an annoying, painful throb hadn’t stopped since I opened my eyes this morning.

Grudge was being a dick, and although I wanted to keep the peace between brothers, I wouldn’t allow blatant disrespect in my clubhouse. Respect was one of the most important things to a biker. You had to give it to get it, though. I was certain that was an across-the-board type of thing and doubted it was any different in his clubhouse of Charleston, West Virginia. I had to make it known that this wasn’t the place for disrespect. Some people had thicker skulls than others, and while it should be a given to recognize where you were and who was in charge, it didn’t always automatically happen. Needless to say, there was always going to be that one person who challenged the rules just to be an ass. I hoped for Grudge’s sake it was not him. Wasting my time on someone who had something to prove was not a thing I enjoyed doing on a good day. Considering the amount of alcohol and coke I put in my body last night, today definitely wouldn’t be a day to push my tolerance.

“10-4.” He got my message fast, thankfully.

“Hair of the dog?” I tipped the top of the bottle toward him, offering him a drink, and waved over my shoulder as I invited him further into the clubhouse. Honestly, I did not much blame him for being somewhat of an asshole; he had just ridden around six hours or so to get here. It was not a comfortable trip to make in a car, much less straddling a sled for that long. That didn’t mean I wanted him being one in my clubhouse, though.

“One beer,” he agreed, his voice relaxed a tad more than it was when he had spoken last.

“Sure thing. Sleeper here will get you anything you want for your troubles, brother.” My hand clapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder blade within my palm. I had seen Spider do this plenty of times as a way to diffuse situations before things went sideways, and it was effective most of the time. It was subtle enough to come off as friendly, but depending on how much pressure you applied, it could be painful, letting the brother understand they were out of line.

Everyone was still getting used to the changes around our clubhouse since I became President of the Cleveland chapter of the RBMC. Of course, Spider attended every church meeting that was held and was usually close by if I had questions. Surprisingly, I had more than I ever thought imaginable. I think the biggest problem I had to overcome was occasionally forgetting that I was a free man and no longer a convict. I hadn’t been locked up for over a year, but there were times I digressed. Perhaps it was a feeling I would always have now and then. There was something about being institutionalized that hung with me, but it probably did with a lot of people who had been locked up. It was not that I never thought I would find myself incarcerated—that was pretty much a given when I signed up to ride with a motorcycle club. It was the fact that I accepted it and then was released unexpectedly, I thought. Realistically, I had no clue at all; it was just my best guess. My opinion may change entirely by the time the sun rose in the sky tomorrow, maybe not.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Sledge asked through a yawn, lifting his ball cap off his face and opening an eye.

“Nothing if I have anything to do with it.” I dropped down onto the chair beside him.

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” He chuckled, dropping his Brown’s hat back onto his face to block the light. “I think we all need a day to lick our wounds.” He rolled over to face the couch, happy to not have anything club related.

“Already buried my bone.” Sac sat up, his thumbs scratching the middle of his back as he lazily strolled the hallway with a sweet ass following behind him. “Isn’t that right?” He smacked her on the ass when she passed him and kissed his cheek. I was having trouble dividing my time between the club and Ginger, but Sledgehammer and Sac did not seem to have that problem. Between the two of them, a revolving door would pay for itself if it was installed, judging by the amount of tail they’d had in our house recently. The difference was I genuinely cared about the time Ginger and I shared, whereas my brothers were doing more of a bagging and tagging scenario. If I was honest, I didn’t miss that lifestyle at all. I never pictured myself as having an old lady, and I mean never, yet I couldn’t be any happier with how things turned out for us.

“More like a game of fetch with balls as big as yours,” I snorted before swallowing two big gulps of the whiskey. Air made its way into the upside-down bottle, and a bubble popped, shooting brown liquid out. It splashed all over my lips and thick mustache. I wiped it off with the back of my arm and put the replaced the cap, passing the bottle off to Spider.

“Talk about my balls again.” Sac wailed with laughter.

“Needed a shower anyway,” I fired back at him.

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