Page 13 of Enemy
I’m not a fussy guy and have no problem taking whatever food they have left, so mashed potatoes and slow cooked pork it is with a random side of fried egg. I like to get my protein in, and if I get my way, I’ll need the energy tonight.
Clyde did kind of suggest he wants to kill me, but I prefer to assume he just needs an excuse to see me. After all, there was such urgency to his message. He doesn’t even want to wait until tomorrow. If he doesn’t fuck around, does it mean I’ll be his first?
My lips stretch into a silly grin at the very thought, and I’mbuzzingwith excitement. I know so little about him, and I can’t wait to amend that. Is he a hateful shit? Yes, but he’s also hot as fuck, horny for me, and will keep a secret. That’s good enough for me.
“Road!” Harvey roars at me from the doorway of the canteen and I groan to myself, because this doesn’t sound good at all, and I’m only halfway through my potatoes.
Harvey is as ginger as his son, Rooster, and while he’s in his early fifties, he’s the oldest member of our club. With his skinny legs and massive arms, he reminds me a bit of Popeye, though he’s not half as funny.
“What’s up?” I ask as the music grows louder to signal that everyone is expected to leave within half an hour, so the team on duty can clean up. I used to do that the year after I moved here. I was a scrawny kid back then, underweight, without a single dollar to my name, but the Vulture Hollow MC and the community they built gave me a chance—food, a bed to sleep in, and a way to earn my keep. They didn’t even alert anyone about the unaccompanied teen they’d found by the side of the road to get rid of the problem.
I very quickly understood that they’re good people as long as you follow the rules, and that being here might be a chance to turn my life around. Been trying not to fuck it up ever since.
“What’s up?” Harvey repeats, approaching me so red in the face his freckles seem to disappear. “You fucked up our truce! I couldn’t be there yesterday, because, guess what, my daughter has a newborn, and I can’t just fuck around at a rally. And now I’m hearing you got in a fight with the Butchers for no goddamn reason?” By this point, he’s yelling, and some of the adults are ushering the kids out.
I don’t mind being a spectacle, but that doesn’t mean it’s fine that he’s confronting me with lies. “What are you even talking about? Sit down,” I say just as loudly and stuff the pork in my mouth.
Harvey’s nostrils flare, and he slams his hands on the table, making my glass of soda rattle. I grab it before it can tip over.
“Calling the prez’s nephew a faggot? You think they’re gonna let that go?” Harvey stands by my table, but doesn’t dare touch me. Yet. I’ve got my eye on him. There’s a reason I’m the enforcer, and most members won’t fuck with me. Problem is, there are times when they’d rather I was better at enforcing correct behavior inmyself.
Always the struggle.
“The only person who said that word was Clyde,” I say, even though I did imply he likes dick. Potayto-potahto. “And it was just a scuffle between me and Clyde. Each of us threw a punch and that was that,” I say and hum, because the meat sauce is real good today.
“Why are you after him at all? Wasn’t months of recovery enough for you? Some of us have families and rather like the peace and quiet.” He stands over me like he’smydad, and when he shoves my plate, it’s really starting to fucking grate on me. There’s a reason I’ve been chosen for my role in the club, and it’s not ‘cause I’m a nice guy. It’s because I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.
I rise, not even bothering to be quick about it. I’m taller than him, younger, faster, stronger, and definitely more vicious. Both he and I know that, and unlike him, I don’t have anything to lose. “Bastard looked at me funny”—technically true—“I don't like when that happens. And you know who’s looking at me funny now?” I ask, meeting his gaze.
Harvey huffs, balls his fists, but takes half a step back. “So you just gonna risk it all because of that?” he asks, and I appreciate that he’s not raising his voice anymore. “Clyde is dangerous. You may be bigger than him, but their club has several chapters. If he holds a grudge, he’ll find a way to stab you in the back.”
I roll my eyes. Oh, so now Harvey’s gonna pretend he’s the voice of reason. But I don’t want to have internal feuds either, so I exhale and sit down. Because he is right. I’ve picked on Clyde for no good reason other than wanting his attention, putting my club at risk out of selfishness.
Fuck.
“You’re right. But Prophet was there to mitigate. Pretty sure it will all be forgotten.”
Especially after I nail Clyde tonight.
Unless he does want to kill me, but I guess I’ll find out later. Is my judgement clouded by lust? It’s not impossible. That’s what almost thirty years of pent-up tension does to you.
Harvey glances over my shoulder. “Prophet? Road says it was just a scuffle, should I be worried?”
My back breaks out in goosebumps. I trust my brothers, but I’ve learned the reflex to be wary of anyone appearing behind me without warning in childhood, and it’s never gone away.
Prophet narrows his eyes and shakes his head at me. “We’ll see, but I don’t think reigniting the tensions would serve either of the clubs. Turner withdrew after I talked to him, and didn’t bother to come back with his guys. You done here, Road?”
I bet someone called Prophet over after Harvey started making a scene.
“Can’t a man finish dinner in peace?” I groan, but Prophet gives me one of the level stares that don’t take no for an answer.
“I need to talk to you.”
Fucking magic words, I guess, so I get up with my plate. I shovel some more pork in my mouth on the way to the kitchen and leave my plate there, giving my potatoes a final glance.
“The guys aren’t happy,” Prophet says as we exit the building.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
