Page 35 of Kick

“So fuckin’ make her see you that way, you douche. Have you never had to chase a bitch your entire life?” I ask. “Ivy’s fucked up, but she’s still a God damn woman, and she needs that love and cherishment crap more than most. The other stuff? Hurtin’ her and all that? It’s what she’s used to. Doesn’t mean that shit can’t be broken, brother.”

“Fuck me. Who’d have thought I’d be takin’ romantic advice from the un-fuckin’-luckiest motherfucker in love walking the face of the planet?”

“Yeah, well, I might be unlucky, and I might have made a dick-tonne of mistakes, but if you don’t come clean with her about how you feel you’re gonna regret it.”

Tank scrubs his hands over his cropped hair and stares down at his feet. Sighing heavily, he shakes his head, and then turns to me; his game face back on. Back to being the bastard who cares for no one, and gives nothing away. The dicktard doesn’t even fuckin’ realise that if he showed Ivy this side of himself, if he made her see that he actually fuckin’ cared whether or not she lived or died, he’d have that bitch in the bag. She may not love him straight away, but I know her well enough to know that despite all her fucked up needs, all she really wants is someone to care the way her father never had. She’d grow to love anyone who showed a little bit of fuckin’ interest in her. It’s why she thinks she’s in love with me.

Game face or not, he sounds tired when he says, “Prez wants to see you. He called a meeting while you were out, something about more fuckin’ mess than he can deal with right now.”

“I just gotta take this shit to Indie first.”

He shrugs as he opens the front door to the clubhouse and steps inside. “Your funeral.”

Yeah, it fuckin’ will be if he finds out I didn’t head straight to church.When Prez summons his flock, the flock better fuckin’ haul arse, or Prez’s gonna be lookin’ for someone’s face to bust in.

The lounge is dimly lit, full of smoke and the smell of sex and liquor. Raine’s standing at the bar, a summery dress on, next to no make-up, and her hair all piled on top of her head in a messy knot as she wipes down the bar with a rag, soaking up some spillage left by Country. He never leaves that bar except to take a piss, weigh in at church or head back to the farm once every couple of weeks to feed his fuckin’ chickens.

I glance around and see that ’most everyone is sitting on the lounges instead of taking their seats in the boardroom. In an alcove across the room that houses yet another cum-stained couch, an old pokie machine, and a beat-up coffee table, Ivy is laid out on the sofa. Her skirt is pushed up around her hips, mouth slack, and her eyes are rollin’ back in her head while Killer positions himself at the entrance of her cunt and slams inside.

“Oh shit” is all I manage to say before Tank is across the room, grabbing Killer in a headlock and dragging him off of her.

Killer thrashes in Tank’s hold, kicking and slapping at the big-arsed motherfucker, but the truth is the kid’s completely fucked. None of us are big enough or ruthless enough to take Tank down. It’d take five of us to pull him off of Killer.Dude is completely fucked.

“Brother, ease up,” I say, punching him in the head repeatedly. He shakes it off but doesn’t let go.

“She was clean, you fuck. For two God damn days she was fuckin’ clean, and you go give her blow so you can get your dick wet?”

“She came to me.”

That riles him even more. Killer’s face turns shades of red, purple, blue and every colour in-between.

“Fuck, brother! Killer’s not your problem. She is,” I say, pointing to Ivy, who doesn’t even look as though she’s registered the fact that Killer is no longer fucking her.

His enraged gaze snaps to me and then he shoves Killer away. The kid gasps for breath, coughing and spluttering as he hits the carpet with his junk hanging out. Tank takes the few steps to Ivy and slaps at her face, trying to get the bitch to wake up.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, it’s a god damn fuckin’ zoo in here!” Prez appears in the hallway having just come from his office.

Grim slinks along behind him, head down, gaze averted. His face is more fucked up than usual—blood trickles from a cut on his lip and his eye is swelling. Not my fuckin’ beef, but Grim keeps to himself mostly, so I’m kinda curious as to what the hell happened to him.

“Get your arses into fuckin church, now!” Prez roars, and the boys scatter. “Tank, get that bitch to a fuckin’ hospital. If she shoots up in my clubhouse again, she’s out on her arse.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Raine asks, rushing over to Grim when she sees the state of his face.

“Leave it.” he growls, and pushes her away, sending her staggering back into me when she attempts to touch him. I grasp her shoulders to keep her from toppling and glance at Prez, he’s watching Grim with the pitch black eyes of a man who wants to cave another’s skull in.

I circle my hand around Raine’s wrist and tug on her arm to get her attention. Her eyes are glistening with tears. I bristle and then remind myself that this is also not my beef to get into. “Don’t take it hard, darlin’. Grim’s an arsehole to everyone.”

She gives me a humourless laugh. “And here I thought I was special?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s because you’re special that he’s sportin’ that black eye.” I wink and fish out my keys and place them in her hand along with the bag from the chemist. “I need a favour?”

After Raine agrees to take the shit I bought to Indie, I head into the boardroom. We’re one man down and three of us are showing off some kind of injury. I don’t blame Prez for losing his shit at us. I take a seat beside Grim.

“You look even more like shit than usual,” I mutter.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“All of you, shut the fuck up!” Prez roars. “That bitch start talkin’ yet, Kick?”

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