Page 30 of Freak
Whatever. It was a party, and Mel loved to party. He didn’t know why it zapped him every time Badger said ‘First-Ever Full-Club Rally,’ but it sure was getting on his nerves.
He opened Badge’s text next.
Got a new TV for the Hall.
Need you to set it up today before
we start the festival shit
A new TV? They’d had a beautiful hundred-incher on the wall until Thumper and Dom had been horsing around and put the two-ball through it a couple weeks ago. Badger had pitched a fit and insisted that, since a bunch of grown men couldn’t help but act like eight-year-olds, they wouldn’t be replacing the television.
Apparently he’d changed his mind. Probably wanted to show out for the other charters.
Mel sent back a quick reply:On it. Be there by 8
And there was Kellen’s text. He couldn’t think why Kell would reach out. He wouldn’t say they were friends, exactly. Kellen was an odd dude. He was the club secretary/treasurer, but Mel couldn’t imagine Kell calling him on that kind of business. His dues were paid up—they were always paid up; he didn’t fuck around with paying what he owed.
Mel got along with almost everybody; unless someone was an absolute chronic asshole, or unless someone had done real damage to people who didn’t deserve it, he didn’t figure there was any good reason not to be decent to them. Everybody had bad days and acted out sometimes, and you didn’t know what anybody else was going through. Why not give people a little room?
Kellen was ... yeah, kind of an asshole, in general. But not in a confrontational way, where all he knew how to do was cause trouble. Okay, sometimes he was that, too. But usually he was just ... a little off. Mel thought Kellen Frey’s biggest problem was that he wanted so fucking bad to be The Guy, the one who drew everybody’s attention, and he couldn’t manage it. If he weren’t Horde, Mel would say he was a wannabe.
But he’d gotten what he wanted—he was Horde and had been for years. He was an officer, even. And still that shine wouldn’t stick. It made him hypersensitive and too quick to start a thing about it.
Mel felt kind of sorry for him. Thus, unless Kell was actively being a shit, Mel often tried to pull him into the group in some way. He was, after all, one of his brothers. Felt too much like a high school cafeteria to leave him on the outside looking in.
But they weren’t true friends. They didn’t hang out anywhere but the clubhouse, and they didn’t confide in each other. Until Abigail, Mel didn’t confide in anyone. But he had brothers he liked drinking with more than others, and talking about the Chiefs and the Royals—Thumper and Dom, in particular. Those two he considered true friends, more than club brothers. They didn’t often talk about deep shit, but they shared similar outlooks and senses of humor, and they always had a good time together. He wouldn’t be surprised to get a text from them.
Kellen’s text read:Need to talk. Not in the clubhouse.
Mel stared at those few words for a long time. They set his Spidey senses tingling, but he wasn’t sure why. He and Kellen shared no secrets, so he couldn’t imagine Kell trying to pull him into any fuckery. But why not the clubhouse?
Whatever. He swiped the text away without answering. No doubt he’d see him in the Hall today, and he’d ask what the fuck then. If Kellen really didn’t want to talk in the clubhouse, he’d have to explain why. Either way, it couldn’t be any big deal.
He tossed the covers back—the room was surprisingly chilly; autumn really had settled in—and hurried to the bathroom for his shower and the first of his twice-daily wanks.
He was really looking forward to Abigail being ready for some whoopie. Sweet talk and making out was awesome, but every day he liked her a little bit more, he was starting to have thoughts that included a word other than ‘like,’ and the challenge to his patience was becoming intense. He’d always given guys shit for complaining about ‘blue balls’—like, bro, just fucking rub one out if you’re so horny you can’t stand it—but lately he was starting to relate.
It was like being in high school again, all the over-the-clothes action driving him into a frenzy he had to handle himself later.
But he’d survived that, and he’d survive this—and what a prize awaited him at the end.
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~oOo~
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The new televisionwas another hundred-incher, with all the latest whizbang. Tech had gotten so ‘smart’ lately, Mel wouldn’t be surprised if it was able to read people’s minds and bend them to its will.
Actually, television had been doing that pretty much since the 1950s, hadn’t it? What else where all those commercials about?
Most of his brothers insisted they could do this kind of wiring as competently as he could, but they were all full of shit. They’d cut corners and half-ass it, he’d bet his Dyna on that. Having learned the hard way what can happen when you half-ass electrical work, Mel always took his time and did it right. Sometimes he got pushback for moving too slowly, but he ignored it.
On this morning with a shit ton of work to do, the Hall was already buzzing with people. Many of them stood behind the main sofa and stared, with bonus kibbitzing and shit talk, while Mel wired the set up—the right way, thank you very much—and, with Zaxx’s help, got it hung on the wall. Then he got the gaming and sound systems connected and all the remotes synced.
“Our hero,” Thumper said in a high-pitched voice as Mel closed the lid on his tool case. Mel grinned and flipped him off.
“Thanks, brother,” Badger said, coming over to clap Mel on the shoulder. “Looks great.”
