Page 21 of Not Even A Mouse
There was a moment of silence, then a heavy sigh. “Most members petition to change chapters.” Mason settled on the couch along the wall. “Most members would rather move towards Mother, than away.” Chicago was where the club had been founded, and all members of the main central chapter sported rockers proudly proclaiming their assignment. “I’d be okay if you wantedto keep that rocker, brother. What’s got you moving down here?”
This was it, the chance he’d hoped for. Mason hadn’t been at the hospital, but Myron knew he had to have heard the stories.Time to come clean.
“You know how you’re always telling me to find what makes me happy and hold tight to that?” Mason nodded. “I found it here.”
“Your bartender?” It was Myron’s turn to nod. Mason’s tone waseven when he said, “I figured as much. You gonna be okay with the shit that comes with this? There’s a fuckton of shit gonna rain on you from some of the brothers.”
“If you think I’m a distraction because of what…because of who I’m with, I’ll figure something out. I won’t put the club at risk, you know me better than that.”
Mason shook his head, leaningforwardsto put his elbows on his knees.Hands dangling between his legs, he frowned, brows pulling together above suddenly serious eyes. “Not where I was takin’ that at all. You’re valued, and I appreciate every single fuckin’ thing you’ve done for the club. But, brother, you’ve let a lot of the men believe you chased tail. Professional, exclusive, high-class, celebrity…I’ve heard all kinds of speculation through the years. Each stretchof the story taking it farther. There’s going to be a bunch of our men who aren’t any more surprised than I am. But the ones who didn’t figure it out are going to be crowing over you finally settling down. That’s the shit I mean, Myron. Don’t matter the gender, not in my club.”
“Not true, and you know it.” This was why he’d been so quiet and discrete through the years, scarcely ever believingthe risks of being found out were worth hurried, unsatisfying encounters. “And the clubs we deal with, they’ll be worse. Situations like today, the day will come when you may not want me at your table anymore.”
A support club in Fort Wayne had gotten caught up in a mess, the leadership’s ambition overstretching their abilities by a far mark. Slate had caught word that they were planning on double-crossingthe Rebels, and based on the legal activities happening right now at their tiny clubhouse on the west side of town, that word was correct. Myron had been monitoring the state of affairs all day, trying to determine when, or even if, the Rebels might need to step in and do damage control. So far, so good, but it was still an active situation. Eventually the Rebels would have to make anexample about the bad decisions the club had made. For today, however, things were controlled.
“Fuck that noise.” Mason’s tone was so firm Myron blinked. “You? Brother, you can fuck who you want. Long as it doesn’t get in the way of anything elseyouwanna do, who gives a flyin’ fuck? Jesus, My, don’t you get it? The club isn’t anything without the men who live and breathe it. Men who live free,support their brothers and families, men the club can get behind if we’reneeded,because there’s a mutual trust. Trust, brother. You’re one of those trusted few. Don’t let shit get twisted up in your goddamned head.”
“Hard not to when I know I’m right.” Myron pushed back from the desk. “Not having me sit in on meetings, that’s me just putting it out there as an option in case it’s needed. Justadmit you need tothink onit.”
“Wanna ask you something.” Mason paused until Myron nodded. “When’s the last time you heard us raggin’ on gays?” Mason’s hands were clasped in front of his face, one finger against his lips, the position a sure indication of how serious he was. “Sure, a decade ago. But that was before I figured some shit out. Before a lot of us figured shit out. Tequila’s old lady,you know her, right?” Myron nodded. “Fifteen years ago, you ever think a brother would be latching onto a woman of color, no matter how class she was?” Without giving Myron a chance to respond, he kept going. “Course not, but fuckin’ times have changed, brother. How many support clubs we got that are mixed? Fuck, Myron,we’remixed. We got white, black, brown of every shade…fuck, as far as I know,we don’tgotno yellow, but that’s not because we’d give a shit.” Mason pushed to his feet. “Why in thefuckwould you think I’d give a shit you were gay?” He took the two steps to the door and turned to glare back at Myron. “Now you givethata fuckin’ think, you hear me?”
“I hear you, boss.” Mason’s words had shaken him, because if he were right—and face it, Mason was nearly always right—thenMyron might always have been the only thing holding himself back.Maybe it took meeting the right guy. On cue, his phone buzzed, and he looked down to see a regular call. Andy.
“Hi.” He could hear the smile in hisvoice,and that just made him grin harder. The voice that came through the phone didn’t echo his pleasure, and the words wiped the smile off his face.
“Myron, we need to talk.”
