Page 5 of Jigsaw
I chuckled as Phantom placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Today was busy, but it was small compared to the twenty-fifteen. There were over half a million riders in attendance.”
Her eyes grew wide as she sat up and Phantom continued. “That was a crazy year. I hadn’t become VP yet, and it was my job to make sure the bikes were clean and secure for the Rally.”
She looked at him, confused. “You didn’t take part?”
He shook his head. “I wanted to earn my patch with the Bastards, so I did whatever menial job they gave me to prove my dedication and loyalty. If that meant shining over fortybikes every night to make sure they gleaned the next day,” he shrugged, “then that’s what I did.”
She gave him a kiss and asked me, “Were you a prospect at the same time?”
I shook my head and took the last swallow of my beer before placing the bottle onto the table and answering. “I was twenty-one, traveling the country, and came back and stayed with Pappy during the Rally but took off a few days after. I knew the Bastards were around, but I wasn’t looking for a club.”
“Can I ask how long you’ve been a member here?” Laura inquired.
“Just over six years. Nitro and Pappy were old friends, and he offered to let me prospect, but they patched me in a few months later.”
I shrugged, not wanting to get into why I only had to prospect for the short time. Most clubs, it was at least a year, but after Nitro heard what went down in Minnesota, he was impressed with my willingness to not allow Willow to be cast out and took my time with them into consideration when he patched me in.
Phantom was aware of my time with the Phantom Renegades, but it wasn’t something widely known by the rest of the brothers. We weren’t hiding it—it just wasn’t relevant to who I was now. Six years ago, I was destined to be Buffalo, since that’s the only thing Popeye knew about South Dakota besides the Rally and Mount Rushmore.
I’d left Minnesota a broken man, so when Nitro suggested the club name Jigsaw, a broken and jagged picture, I liked the name and it stuck.
I nodded at Laura’s expanding belly and asked, “Have you found out if it’s a boy or a girl?”
She smiled and held her stomach as she responded, “I think there are only a few great mysteries in life, and the gender of ababy is one of the few that remain. So, we decided to wait until they’re born to find out.”
Phantom was beaming beside her as the music behind us grew in volume. I never thought I’d see the moody bastard so happy, but when Laura came into his life, he changed. All for the better. He was content and relaxed, and I envied what he and some of the other brothers had. But to find love, you had to be willing to open yourself up to someone, and the last time I did that, I lost my club and my future.
Laura hid a yawn behind her hand, and Phantom looked over to her. “Are you ready to go to the house?”
She nodded. “You can take me over and I’ll hang out in the camper if you want to come back.”
He stood and held his hand out to help her rise from her seat. I stood and gave him a chin lift, and Laura waved as they walked off toward the back of the building, holding hands.
Phantom had parked his travel RV over at Roughstock and Cheyenne’s so he would be close to the clubhouse but Laura would still have the privacy he wanted his ol’ lady and baby to have. I would have done the same thing if I was him, but I didn’t think that would ever be me.
Turning, I looked out at the large gathering of people outside the Sin Den as the dark sky loomed overhead. Usually, that would give me an ominous feeling, but something inside me said things were about to change for me, though I didn’t have a clue what it could be. I loved my life. I still spent every Sunday taking Pappy to church, even if I wasn’t the biggest believer, and I had my brothers in the Sinners Revenge. A woman would probably just complicate things.
As I approached the mass of individual conversations, I looked around and gave chin lifts to a few people I knew as well as my brothers and the Death Hounds who were visiting. Therewas a coolish breeze coming in from the north, and I decided to walk inside and grab a long-sleeved shirt from my room.
There were ten rooms upstairs, and the club’s senior members took up seven of them. We offered Dawg and his ol’ lady, Lori, one of the rooms, as well as Gunner and his ol’ lady, Sadie, from the Death Hounds. The last one would be kept open in case there was a need, but seeing the door was still padlocked from the outside, I knew there hadn’t been any trouble so far tonight.
That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be trouble. Hell, it wouldn’t be a rally if the vet Roughstock kept on retainer didn’t have to come and stitch someone up after a fight. I made sure one room was stocked with medical supplies, some extra water so we wouldn’t have the same issue as the year it was so fucking hot that people began to dehydrate and drop like flies.
Not on my watch. I was beyond a Boy Scout when it came to the safety of my brothers, so I stocked up here and at the ranch.
After changing my shirt and slipping my cut back on, I grabbed a few rolled joints from the little wooden case in my dresser and left my room, making sure to lock it up behind me. Walking down the stairs, I patted the newest prospect on his shoulder, and he stepped to the side to let me pass. His only job was to guard the stairs that led to the rooms. He was a solid prospect, and I believed Roughstock would have us vote on his patch soon. He was an ex-Army Ranger, so he had my vote.
As I looked around the clubhouse, I could see the alcohol and weed were flowing freely as Animal helped behind the bar. During the Rally, it’s beer or shots and nothing else. The guys didn’t have time to mix cocktails, but we made sure to have some of those weird fizzy seltzer things for the ladies. They tasted like someone stepped on a piece of fruit and washed it off in the seltzer, but the ladies seemed to love them.
Walking back outside, I saw the crowd of people filling the parking lot and the field off to the side where the bonfire was going. The breeze was still nippy, so I headed toward the fire. Looking up at the road, I saw bikes parked two-wide on either side and hoped someone didn’t get drunk and plow their truck through all that chrome. But we had signs and a prospect on both ends of the road, and there wasn’t anything out here but the ranch and the Sin Den, so anyone coming through would know to be careful.
Raven, the club’s Road Captain, was standing off to the side of the bonfire with a beer in his hand as he spoke with someone. I approached, and he turned and gave me a chin lift before going back to his conversation. Every year, we met new brothers from new clubs, so seeing someone I didn’t know wasn’t unexpected.
“What’s shakin’?” Raven asked as I stepped up to him.
“Just chillin’,” I responded, handing him a joint from the pocket of my cut.
The man in front of him had a cut that said Booger. I couldn’t imagine getting stuck with such a gross fucking name, but to each their own, I guess. I couldn’t see his club patch, but everyone who came out here knew not to start trouble. The bigger clubs with nationally known names weren’t going to bother with a little hole in the wall bar off the beaten path, so trouble, while always around, never blew up.
