Page 42 of Hawk's Cry

In some ways his story resonates with me. His parents wanted him to be something he wasn’t, but he was true to himself and got out.

“I’ll talk to you, Joker. If you’ve got time.”

He shakes his head, stares down at his hands, then, finally, looks up. “If you want someone to listen, I’m here for you. If you want me to give you answers, I can’t help. I’m a sounding board only. If you’ve got that, then yeah, I’ve got time.”

Chapter Fifteen

Eli…

I plump up the pillows behind me and sit myself up. Drawing up my legs and clasping my hands around them, I wonder where to start. I decide the beginning is always a good place. If I start to bore Joker, he can always leave.

“My earliest memory is playing with toy motorbikes under the kitchen table with Liv.”

Joker chuckles. “You were inseparable. She was sunshine, light and laughter, and you were the serious kid. If anyone made her cry, they had you to answer to.”

“Maya pulled her hair one day,” I remember.

“Yeah,” he glares at me, “you made my daughter cry.” His face relaxes as that memory fades. “You were so protective from the word go. I’ve known you since the day you were born, watched you grow into a replica of your Dad. I remember thinking you were a little Drummer back when you took your first step. You even had the steely glare going on.”

“Everyone thought I was going to grow up like Drummer.” I take a breath, thinking back. “Dad’s father, my grandfather, had created the club. Dad became VP, then became prez. People used to tell me I was just like him and would grow up to do what he had done.”

Joker eyes me thoughtfully. “Can’t tell you you’re wrong. Of course, every man in the club has to prove himself, but it was an assumption we’d made. You were always club, it would appear, from the day you were born. You showed the same traits as Drummer. You started off fiercely protective of Olivia, then all the kids. Then, as you grew, of the club. No man ever doubted you were a Satan’s Devil to the core, and I, and everyone, had no difficulty trusting and following you.”

“And you were wrong.” I flex my fingers only just healing, some residual stiffness still there. I let them all down when I’d left the club.

He stares at me with his brow creased and eyes narrowed. “I’d say we were not. But you see it differently." He gestures and says, “Go on.”

“I knew Dad wanted me in the club. I was his firstborn. Even before I walked or talked, he had my future planned out, and I was happy enough to slip into it. Nothing made me feel better than making my dad proud, and nothing made him prouder than when I proved I was everything he wanted in a son. I couldn’t disappoint him, so I went out of my way to make him happy. Offer me two toys, I’d always take the motorbike, even if I was tempted by Liv’s dolls.”

“She liked bikes too,” Joker remarks.

She did. But that’s not the point. “I grew into what Dad wanted. A son who would follow him into the club. I did everything to show that one day I might even be able to lead it, just like he’d done.”

Joker blows air out. “So what I said resonated. That you felt pressured to be something you weren’t?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t put it so strongly. I wasn’t pressured to go against my nature, I just didn’t have a chance to find out what I wanted for myself.”

“But Zane, he never showed the slightest interest in the club.” Joker frowns. “He didn’t feel the same pressure you did.”

I open my hands in a ‘so what’ manner. “Dad already had the son he wanted. Zane was never interested in the club.” It’s strange looking back to how we were as kids. “He preferred playing with trucks.”

“And fuckin’ Legos. That kid was always building shit.”

I suppose I’ve got that to look forward to. Treading on those tiny plastic bricks. If I’m still around when my kid’s born of course, if Liv hasn’t thrown me out, or if... I shake my head to clear it.

“It’s not all Dad,” I tell him, biting my lip. “You know Mom rebuilt that Vincent Black Shadow of hers? She started working on it when she was sixteen. Already, by then, she was a damn good mechanic. She was never interested in dolls or clothes, just bikes. She liked it when I followed in her footsteps. I could identify wrenches before I could even write.”

“And you wanted to make her happy?”

“Doesn’t any kid?” I say sharply. “Your mom tells you how clever you are, and you feel on top of the world. It reinforces the behaviour.”

Joker taps his fingers together. “I never thought of you as an unhappy kid.”

“Are you kidding? I had a mom and dad who thought the sun shone out of my ass. Of course I was happy.”

“Did you really want to play with dolls?” he suddenly asks, and it sounds serious.

“No. Or I don’t think so. Thing is, I didn’t get the chance. Closest I got was putting a naked Barbie on the back of Action Man’s motorcycle.”

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