Page 84 of Red's Peril: Part 1

“Know you won’t, Brother,” I tell him. Then I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, Brothers. But I know Vegas is strong and we’ll go far.”

“Six months back we had a different VP and Prez,” Crash observes. “That’s gonna hit the men hard.”

“Up to us to lead them through it,” I state. “And failure ain’t a choice.”

“Too fuckin’ right,” Twister vows.

Chapter Thirty

Funerals are best over and done with. The sooner a body is laid to rest, the sooner survivors can start to mend.

Despite bikers’ send-offs being an excuse for a get-together and a party, for the principals involved, they can cause an inordinate amount of stress. I’ve been to funerals before but have never been responsible for hosting one. At Rainman’s, I did my duty but only as a lowly member. At Lefty’s, I was a guest and had no responsibility myself.

The loss of an MC prez is, of course, a huge occasion. Everyone wants to show their respects.

While I didn’t want to bother her, I’ve had to have contact with Rosa to make sure what I’m planning complies with her preferences, and, in doing so, took the opportunity of drawing on her experiences. She didn’t have a long list of priorities. Her only wish was for him to be buried wearing his wedding ring, and that her property cut was to be placed in his coffin, a part of her that would always be with him.

Tiffany proved to be a godsend, organising catering and block booking rooms at nearby hotels for those who wanted overnight comfort. As it is, our clubhouse is going to be filled to overflowing. All chapters are going to attend with only a skeleton crew left at base. The local Wretched Soulz, led by Missile and Debunk, will also be in attendance.

When the day arrived, I knew this was my first test of being seen as the rightful prez of the Vegas chapter.

It seemed odd to be greeting Drummer, Hellfire, Bird, and Snatcher as equals, due deference still given to the foremost of course, as mother chapter prez he’d always take precedence. But as I rode directly behind the car carrying Rosa and the twins, I felt a strange nervousness. I wasn’t used to riding alone and heading a vast column.

The funeral itself was short. Rosa held her boys, and I had my arms around her, lending her my support. She’d cried silently, tears streaming down her face and shudders racking her body. Then when the clods of earth fell on the coffin, she dried her face, straightened her clothing, and turned away. As becomes a prez’s old lady, she then proceeded to do the rounds, thanking the other prezes for coming.

She’s so fucking tough.

Fox and Tiffany looked out for the boys who looked completely lost. Despite Rosa’s ability to hold herself together, I knew their route to healing would travel a long road. You don’t get over the loss of a presence like Brick in a short while, or even in a lifetime. I should know, I often feel my father still with me.

The clubhouse, packed to the rafters, is mayhem, and only this side of organised. I rotate around, unable to linger to chat with any one person as I accept equal commiserations and congratulations from every side. At the end of the night, I’m relieved and so fucking tired. I consider making a declaration, that members are forbidden to fucking die, as their send-off is exhausting.

I fall into bed with my mind racing.Had I spoken to everyone? Had I given a good show of myself or was anything lacking?

Brick might have been the star attraction, but all eyes had been on me.Would Red stack up?

The next day it seemed I’d passed muster. Drummer asked me into a meeting with the other prezes and spent a few moments reiterating his views on the future of the Satan’s Devils. I was onboard with all his plans, and we all bought in to maximising our legitimate businesses and keeping off the radar of the cops, while, of course, keeping to our rules in our own houses. In other words, taking no shit from anyone, and exacting our own forms of retribution.

When all the visitors leave, I heave a sigh of relief, and relish the thought of getting back to normal. But at first, I’ve no idea what that is.

Despite my worries, it comes naturally.

During her time away, Rosa had decided the boys needed to get back to some form of routine, so she, Trist and Tom return to the house they shared with Brick. But they continue to make regular appearances in the clubhouse. And if Rosa was continuing to act as if she was still the first old lady, I wasn’t going to interfere. I had no mind to put anyone else in that role, and she fit it fine. She organised the kitchen and kept the club girls in line.

Sarge is patched in and not before time.

The club moves on. Our security business grows and becomes our main money winner, and I become comfortable sitting in the top seat and being addressed as Prez. The lustre wears off quickly as I settle into the job. There’s an always present tension of being the man who has the last word, the man everyone looks up to. If sometimes at night I go to bed questioning some decision I’ve made, I’m the only one who knows it. I’m so busy I’m barely aware of how the months turn into a year, and then another goes by. It’s not long before I can barely remember a time when I was simply a man called Red.

Two years later, I’m attending yet another funeral of a Satan’s Devil prez, this time for Bird from San Diego. His successor, Snake, still makes my skin itch when I’m around him, but I can’t put my finger on why. Snatcher, well, he’s old-fashioned as fuck, but still a solid guy. Hellfire, equally set in the old ways is at least open to new ideas, but Snake? He’s only a little older than myself, and something about him rubs me up the wrong way. But his club voted to promote him from VP to the top spot, so who was I to argue? It was only the same move as I’d made myself.

I’ve got enough to worry about, building up my own club in Vegas. It’s not all work though, a boy’s gotta play sometime. Some of the decisions I get to make are more fun than others.

“Prez? Can we have a word?”

Glancing up from a security report Keys had asked me to look over, I wave Rope and Cuff in. “What can I do for you?” I fold my arms and sit back.

“We—”

“You,” Cuff interrupts, glaring at Rope. “You. I’m just along for the ride.”

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