Page 87 of Property of Legend

"You're pissin' vinegar, Prez," Oaks says one night at the club, cracking open a beer as I sit silent at the bar."You used to throw chairs.You’ve not been in the ring.Now you just sit there brooding like some mean...I don’t even know what to call it.Gonna start callin’ ya’ Royal.You’ve gone all dark and gloomy."

Darla chimes in, laughin’.“He’s like a black Care Bear with a sad bottle of bourbon on his tummy.Daddy Drinks A Lot Bear.”

Royal calls from the corner, flipping his knife between fingers."Heard Becki's back on the leash.Shouldn't she be keepin' you warm at night, or is she just here to start fights again?"

"Shut the fuck up," I snap.

But they were right.Becki had slithered back into the fold like smoke.I'd been too numb to care, too angry to stop her.She brought some damn good weed, her family’s famous moonshine, and easy pussy for my brothers.Said she missed me, said we could get back to how things used to be.I told her to fuck off more than once, but the truth is, I didn’t shove her out the Lockup’s door either.

Maybe I’m tired.Maybe I’m weak.

Maybe I just need to feel something again, taste it, even if it’s poison.

The night I let Becki back into my bed, I ain’t drunk.I ain’t high.

I’m just hollow.

The Kings is throwing one of our typical Friday bashes, music loud enough to shake the paint off the walls, girls grinding on pool tables, the stank of weed thick in the air.Bourbon flows like water.Laughter cracks like lightning.

I’m sitting on my stool at The Lockup, half-watching, half-waiting for something to pull me out of my skin.

She walks in wearing nothing but a leather vest and cutoffs so small they make every brother in the room forget what he was saying.She has no "Property of Legend" patch, but she still looks at me like I’m the king of her fucked-up world.

"You wanna keep punishing me," Becki says, sidling up beside me, brushing her fingers over my crotch."Or you wanna remember what it felt like to own something?"

I stare at her for a long beat.

Then I stand.

She follows me to the back like a lamb to slaughter.

I don’t kiss her.

Don’t whisper sweet nothings.

I fuck her hard and fast, the way an empty man does, and leave her asleep in my bed while I go to the couch out in the club.

Next morning, I’m straight back in my room.Becki’s still there, warm and wet, so I’m in her again when Sophie comes callin’.

Fuck.The look on her face rips me open and stabs my heart.

But I don’t even chase after her.Caught in the act.It’s no use.I do wonder if I’d just held out a bit longer if she’d have told me she wanted me back.

Chance is gone now.

That night, I drown my sorrows.I find a different club bunny to bury my heartache and my dick.

Night after that?Another.

And the boys stop looking at me like I’m a pussy.

Back to my old self, I’m in the garage, wrench in hand, under Whip’s old Triumph when Lottie burst in, breathless, phone clutched in her grip like it’s a live wire.

"You seen this shit?"

I wipe my hands and take the phone.

Sophie.

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