Page 4 of Jet

“No probs,” Ophie says, and Chez gives me an up nod, going back to cleaning his station.

We head out to our bikes and ride side by side for the five minutes it takes to get to the clubhouse.

The Fallen Gargoyle clubhouse isn’t your regular biker hangout. It used to be a hotel back in the day. It has over a hundred rooms, most of which are now mini apartments and offices for club members. There is a conference room that is now used as a games and movie room, a bar that anyone can come hang out at, and a dining room for club members and family. It also has a shit ton of outside space for all the family fun days we do to raise money for our charities.

I’ve always loved this building. Especially Arnold and Sylvester, the two gargoyles that sit on the porch roof protecting us. Grandpops explained that gargoyles are protectors. It’s why he named the MC after them.

We park in our usual spots and head on in. Just in time to see Kenny with a face like thunder storming out of his office to the bar, where Toni hastily pours him a glass of whiskey which he proceeds to down in one.

“Church now,” he storms back across the room into the room next to his office where we hold church.

For us, church isn’t about giving an ego boost to a deity. It’s about a club meeting where we talk about all the stuff we need to sort out. Usually, it has to do with those who we’re helping.

Kenny is like a dad to me. The most chill guy I know. Him stomping around and knocking back alcohol before noon is a bad sign.

I make my way into the room. A low hum of everyone talking around the giant, ornate table. I slide into my usual seat, Rex sitting opposite me and looking just as fucking bemused as I am.

“Everyone be quiet,” Kenny shouts, sitting at the head of the table. Him raising his voice is concerning. He didn’t even yell when Jet and I accidentally super-glued his favorite wrench to the garage ceiling. “I just found out I might have a 23-year-old son.”

There is a shocked silence for a beat before everyone starts talking all at once.

“How did you find him?”

“Does Stella know?”

“Is he after money?”

“How hot is he?”

Kenny sags into his chair. “He only found out this week. His mom told him his dad was a biker named Kenny from Oregon, whom she met in Vegas in ‘99.”

“My wedding to Nicole?” Mac says, leaning forward in his seat next to Kenny. “You took the whole “party like it’s 1999” to heart on that trip.”

“Of course I did. Everyone thought the new millennium was going to be the start of the apocalypse,” Kenny sniffs. “I’m not 100% sure it wasn’t.”

“What do we know about him?” Echo takes his role as a club enforcer very seriously. A little too serious sometimes. We aren’t the kind of club to do murder, but we do have a few enforcers who are experts at scaring the shit out of the cunty abusers we deal with.

“He’s a website designer. Originally from Colorado, but now he travels as he works.”

“Is he one of those van life people?” Jet sneers.

“Seriously, why do you hate them?” Fizz asks with an eye roll. “They are living the dream.”

“They don’t have proper bathroom facilities.”

“You need help.”

“He rides a Harley Cruiser,” Kenny says, ignoring Fizz and Jet’s bickering. He looks at me, and for the first time today, Kenny smiles. “My kid is one of us.”

I return his smile. “Fuck yeah, he is. So when do we get to meet him?”

“He wants a DNA test first,” Kenny turns to Jet. “Do you think you could get one done in a rush?”

“Of course, Prez. One of the lab techs owes me a favor. I’ll let him know to make it a priority when I start my shift later.” Jet is a labor and delivery nurse at the local hospital. Being a 6’4” former college linebacker, people always do a double-take when they see him in pastel scrubs.

“Thank you, brother,” Kenny takes a deep breath. “I need to go tell Stella.”

“Mom is going to be so excited. She’ll have a Pinterest board going for him within the hour.” I snort. “How are you feeling about this, Kenny?”

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