Page 18 of Deacon

Between Shadow and Gunz, I can’t hide from the current and weight of Squeak’s absence in peace. Both of my friends mention her name for shits and giggles, several times a day, knowing what it does to my psyche. Although it’s my damn fault for spazzing out the first day, Squeak’s ass didn’t show up to perform her secretarial duties for the club. Neither Shadow nor Gunz needed confirmation of my affection for Squeak because they said my actions spoke loudly the day she became our secretary.

“You don’t have to be like that. We’re our brother's keeper and shit,” Gunz says, entering the conversation I didn’t ask for or welcome.

Handling Wrangler inside the clubhouse might not have been the right decision due to the possible backlash the club could receive. However, not a single member of our band of brothers fears a solitary member of Satan’s Cobras or anyone, so we move how we see fit.

“Now that we’ve handled the numb nuts… What’s next on the agenda for today?” Bulldog asks.

With the fury running through my bloodstream, I walk behind the bar, grabbing the first bottle of liquor I come across. Twisting off the cap, I tilt the bottle and drink straight from the mouth, hoping that the contents are capable of cooling the mounting inferno within me.

“Why the hell didn’t you niggas clear the bar of the dark? Y’all know this nigga doesn’t need anything else fueling him,” Diesel says as I come up for air after draining a third of the bottle.

“I’m straight,” I say.

“Not to mention, none of us feel like tussling with his ass. If he wants to show his ass, all we can do is clear a path,” Shadow says, shrugging.

“My bad, Diesel. I got caught up arguing with my baby momma,” Sleepy says, coming from the back of the clubhouse.

Smirking, I stare around the room as my brothers watch me like I’m either a science experiment or a bomb, seconds from detonating. While it's been a minute since I’ve been this out of pocket, each of them, except the newbies, knows what I’m capable of in this state.

“Did we or didn’t we agree that handling Wrangler was the right plan?” I ask.

“We did. However, did you have to spit on the nigga after blacking both of his eyes?” Shadow asks.

“Does the Bible not mention Jesus spitting on a man’s eye to cure his blindness?” I ask, upturning the bottle in my hand and taking another swig as the amber liquid coats my throat.

“I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be referencing any biblical teachings after committing sinful acts,” Smoke says hesitantly.

Unable to contain it, a low chuckle escapes my mouth from Smoke backing away despite a wide distance between him and me.

“Nigga, what are you running for?” I ask.

“Man, when you piss God off, I want Him to only hit you with the bolt of lightning coming for your crazy ass,” Smoke says with his hands up in the posture for surrendering and a sneaky grin slides into place when a thought comes to mind about Smoke.

“Wow. Niggas really be delusional around here. How did you get your name, bro?” I ask Smoke, shaking my head as the room erupts in laughter.

Davin McClurkin, also known to the club as Smoke, didn’t get his name because he enjoys a blunt or Newport. It’s why everyone is laughing because Smoke is just as crazy as the rest of us. Smoke’s name was given to him by Bulldog when he was a prospect after setting his stepfather’s house on fire after dumping a bucket of urine on the man. Smoke’s stepfather narrowly escaped with his life and becomes Usain Bolt if he even hears Smoke’s name in his vicinity.

“Stop bringing up old shit, Deacon,” Smoke says, laughing.

Hours later…

“How long should we give Squeak to show her face before we pop up on her stubborn ass, Tinker Belle?” Diesel asks.

After things calmed down from the events with Wrangler, Diesel sent an emergent text requesting all members come to the clubhouse for a full-body meeting. While Diesel and Gunz brought the members up to speed on the beef between us and Satan’s Cobras, I continued drinking until my face was now numb. About twenty minutes ago, Shadow’s hating ass came andsnatched the bottle from my hand. Ever the enforcer, his ass spent the meeting babysitting me and the contents of the bar.

“I’m working on her, but unfortunately, I don’t know. I have been by her place, and it's been completely dark. With my work schedule, I haven’t been able to catch Squeak coming or going,” Tinker Belle says with a tinge of irritation coating her tone and face.

“Give me the fucking address. I’ll clear my schedule to sit on her spot,” I say, fed the fuck up with waiting for Squeak to come to her damn senses.

“I know you mean well, but forcing Squeak’s hand will only backfire. I-I can’t lose her again,” Tinker Belle says shakily, causing my brows to furrow as a deep frown slips into place.

What the fuck isn’t Tinker Belle saying?

“Okay. We’ll wait a little longer. I know this is beyond your capabilities, but have some patience, Deacon,” Diesel says deadpan.

“In the meantime, nobody moves without alerting another member of the club of your whereabouts. I don’t give a fuck if you're going to help your granny take a shit… Let somebody know. Understood?” Gunz interjects before varying expressions of agreement sound around the room.

A knot settles in the pit of my stomach, causing an uneasy feeling to spread through my body. Rubbing my hand through my beard, I drift into my thoughts, trying to identify the emotion beginning to take shape.

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