Page 54 of Whiskey Shivers

I went home at the end of the day, took a hot shower, and headed on out back to the garage, opening it up and sighing when I laid eyes on my bike. Man was she a sight for sore eyes. My project bike sat forlorn and wanting attention next to her.

“I ain’t forget you, baby,” I told the stripped bare machine that was going together piece by piece. “I just need to give your big sister some attention.” I went over to my baby and sat astride her, tipping her up onto her two wheels and twisting her key, thumbing the starter switch, and letting her come to life.

I ain’t been up on two wheels for too long of a spell, and I was looking forward to the ride tonight – knowing the one I was about to take just a few blocks on over to the club wouldn’t even serve as one of them fancy horse-doovers appetizers.

I rolled her on back out of the garage, her engine chugging like she was cranky I ain’t rode her in so long, and I had to hand it to her, she weren’t wrong.

I rode to the club to find everyone there and gave a nod to Axe and Saint. I went to La Croix and handed the note from Corliss’s student and told him about it. “You mind makin’ sure it gets to her sometime this weekend?”

“Louie,” La Croix called, and Louie came jogging out from behind the bar.

“You mind doing me a favor, man?” La Croix asked, and Louie gave a crooked grin.

“Anything for you, boss.”

“When Cypress goes out to check on the girls, why don’t you go on out there with him and make sure Hex’s woman gets this.” He handed the note to the kid. La Croix then turned to me and said, “I’m stayin’ my ass right here in the city in case shit goes sideways.”

I nodded and I could appreciate that, so I didn’t argue the point and just let it go.

“Fancy a fuckin’ beer?” Axe asked.

“Two birds, one stone,” I agreed and winked at him.

“Hold up,” Cypress declared. “You ain’t goin’ without me.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I got a bone to pick with these motherfuckers,” he said, and he looked pissed.

“What’s that now?” La Croix demanded, crossing his bulky arms over his chest.

“Some of them motherfuckers were poaching our lines,” he said, and I felt my eyebrows go up.

La Croix grunted and I held up a hand. “No, this is good. This is fortunate,” I said, and all eyes turned toward me.

“Might we can killthreebirds with this one stone,” I said.

“How’s that?” Chainsaw asked, but I could see he was already halfway there, and Bennie, who was a smart little fucker, was already nodding. He was pickin’ uprightwhat I was puttin’ down.

“We go in, we got our colors, and we open up this can of whoop ass based on Cy’s family honor. They know not to poach his lines. They learn to stay the fuck outta our territory, and we get our weekend staycation courtesy the city. Our objective is met with the added bonus we got some cover to keep the heat off the club some – or at least keep it to a low simmer based on the fact this fight wasn’t a rivalry type of bullshit they gon’ want to keep an eye on but rather a family honor sort of thing.”

The boys looked thoughtful. “Sounds good to me,” Cy said and honestly, the biggest added bonus is we’d have Cy throwin’ hands on our side.

That motherfucker was built like a brick shithouse and fought on the side, doin’ that MMA bullshit. Won himself and the club some tidy sums doin’ it, too.

“Do it.” La Croix bestowed his blessing like I knew he would the second he dropped his arms to his sides.

“Now if there’s nothing else,” I said. “I’d really like to get this party started.”

There were grunts and nods of agreement, Saint, Axe, Cy, and me heading for the door.

“Fuck some shit up!” Chainsaw called after us and I waved him off over my shoulder.

We rode out and it felt good to get my knees in the breeze, leading our boys down to the edge of the city, well within the bounds of where we wanted to be, to be taken to the jail we wanted to be taken to.

We’d been having trouble with a club called the Bayou Brethren getting a little too comfortable, hittin’ up this bar inside our territory. The disrespect hadn’t come until we started gettin’ word, they were gettin’ just a littletoocomfortable in callin’ it theirs and pushing people out that they didn’t like. Like they owned the fuckin’ block the bar was on.

We’d been chill about it as we had some other shit goin’ on behind the curtain with squaring up with some fuckin’ dealers that were shaving our cut by shaving their numbers out in the quarter. They wanted to run their business in our territory, they needed to square up with us. They mostly dealt in weed and Moll-E so we weren’t too pressed about them existing; however, the crack, meth, and heroin trade? They were getting too damn big for their britches and one of the warehouses down at the docks was fixin’ to burn if they didn’t straighten their act out and keep it movin’.

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