Page 73 of Red's Peril: Part 1

A huge sigh comes out of him. He doesn’t have to verbally give me thanks. It’s written all over his face.

I decide to lighten the moment. “And it will help to have someone to keep me on my toes.”

“Oh, she’ll do that, Brother. She’ll do that.” He grins widely, but the effect is spoiled by his cough.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Isuppose it’s only natural once you’ve heard news like I had, that for the next few days I’m watching Brick like a hawk, waiting for any sign of weakness or a suggestion he can’t cope.

But now I’ve agreed to take the mantle from him, he’s rallied, so much so, I start to think the diagnosis was wrong. He still smokes, still coughs, but his complexion is ruddier, though that could be due to the hot Vegas sun.

He readily agreed to put my suggestion of Joker for road captain to the vote, and the whole club accepted it. It was more of awhy didn’t we think of that before?then any question we didn’t need one or that the man put forward wasn’t right for it.

Joker was over the moon and couldn’t stop grinning. Watching him carefully, I wondered whether the man had been uncertain of his acceptance by the club, and this promotion had cemented it. Whatever, he appeared to be more settled and happier.

He’s a strange one, I think to myself. He leads us to believe he has a honey in town which is why he never goes with the sweet butts, but he never brings her to any of our parties and isn’t even forthcoming on her name let alone any other details. Still, each to his own. As long as he doesn’t put her needs before the club, it’s nothing for me to worry about.

I’ve more concerns than his love life or lack of it to deal with. Brick’s as good as his word, getting me to accompany him to meetings I’d only heard of before. I’d attended a meet with the prez of the local Wretched Soulz chapter, the dominant club all over the southwest. I wouldn’t be able to deny Missile, the prez, gave me a warm welcome, but his eyes were narrowed as though summing me up. His VP, Debunk, was more reserved, his manner suggesting he’d reserve judgement until such a time as I’d proved myself.

You and me both, Brother,I’d thought to myself. Unless Brick defies medical science, it’s me they’ll be dealing with in just a few months. Unless, of course, the club chooses another, but as Brick had said, no man comes to mind. In my assessment, Crash would make a great second, but he’s not a leader. Same goes for Twister.

The only other contender is Indian. The man’s impressed me, but as he’s not in an officer role yet, and raising an as yet unknown quantity to run the club would be unheard of. Though it’s hard to think in terms of a future without the larger-than-life Brick in it, I do wonder about the make-up of the team I’d like around me.

Crash now, I’d like him as my VP, which would leave vacant the sergeant-at-arms spot. Indian, yeah, that’s who I’d like to step up.

I bang the heel of my hand to my forehead, hating I’m thinking about stepping into Brick’s shoes. I’d rather hide my head in the sand just like he’s done. I’ve only just been made VP for fuck’s sake. How can I get the brothers behind me to accept me, let alone help me to run the club?

But Brick’s good. More so than he did with Rainman, he defers to me in front of the brothers. My business ideas with his clear approval get the go-ahead. His obvious show of confidence boosts my standing within the club.

Members start bringing their problems to me, matters they wouldn’t have brought to the old VP. I take pleasure in finding routes to resolve them.

Soon, I’m wearing the VP mantle as though it’s always rested on my shoulders. I get comfortable, and if most times I forget about the future, who could blame me? Brick looks strong as an ox. I start to doubt a little thing like cancer can bring him down. As a month passes, followed by another, then a further one zooms past, I start to think the future isn’t mapped out as clearly as Brick had set out.

Four months have gone by since that first meeting between prez and new VP. As I stride across the clubroom, heading toward church, my phone vibrates in my pocket. My lips curve up as I see the caller. Deciding I’ll tell him I’ll call him back after the meeting, I answer.

“Hey, Brother. Good to hear from you, but—”

“Red.” Just the way Wraith says my name pulls me up.

Pausing my steps, I enquire sharply, “What’s up?”

There’s an intake of breath, then, “Lefty hit the dust. Came off at speed, Red. He’s gone.”

Lefty? Dead? “Oh, fuck, Brother.” He was a solid man for the Tucson chapter. They’ll miss him like fuck.

“His funeral’s on Monday. Wanted to know if you can make it, Brother.”

Of course, I’ll move heaven and earth to be there. I’d spent my formative MC years in that club, and Lefty had a hand in making me the man that I am. “I’ll be there, Wraith. You don’t need to ask.”

“Everyone else is invited. We want to give him a good send-off.”

Shit. Brick won’t be able to make it. While I try to ignore the life sentence he’s got, an eight-hour ride is too much to ask for a man who’s standing beside, if not quite yet lying on his deathbed. Quickly, I think of an excuse. “Brick will be tied up, but I’m sure we can bring a good contingent.”

“Tell Brick no worries, Brother. It’s short notice. It’s come as a shock.”

“I’m heading into church. I’ll bring it up there.” While I’ve been speaking, brothers have been walking around me, and with a hand gesture, I’ve been indicating I’ll join them shortly.

“Everyone’s welcome, Brother.”

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