Page 24 of Enemy
Prophet shakes his head, arms crossed on his chest. “Technically, that road was available to them, but they shouldn’t have accosted Rooster, that’s for sure.”
“But do we really want to break the peace over this?” Sad Billy chimes in with a scowl. That expression never leaves his face though, so I’m not surehowagainst that he is.
As they start arguing over the truce and whether we should uphold it, I stew in the fact that Clydestillhasn’t messaged me. Not even a we’re-good or whatever. I’m not a patient guy on the best of days, but right now, I feel like a wolf with its teeth removed when all I want to do is chew on a juicy bone.
At this point, I’d vote against the peace just so I can get my hands on Clyde insomeway. But then he likely would have arranged a meeting and stabbed me in a way I don’t want to be stabbed, and that would not do. Not really.
As Prophet attempts to cool Harvey’s temper, I move my gaze over photos hung on the log walls of our clubhouse. It’s a simple space, but cozy and full of memories. A few of the guys’ old ladies keep it nice and clean, but it still has the calming vibe of an old school man-cave with mismatched furniture that’s either second-hand or built by someone within the community. It’s now warm enough that the large stone fireplace in the middle of the main room rarely gets lit, but there’s always a pile of wood waiting for someone to ignite it.
Then again, maybe the heat is misplaced, because my insides are blazing with want like never before. The fuel’s always been there, an unspoken secret. But with Clyde burning so bright, how could I not catch fire when he got close?
I know he’s a bad guy. He’s done shitty things both to me and my club over the years, but when I’m reminded of his throaty moans and how his cock felt in my hand, all the issues kinda drift away. Just today, he was there, harassing our prospect, but all I can think of is how he smelled and how intense his gaze was.
I get up, because I’m of no use to the conversation anyway.
“You’re off?” Prophet’s head whips back at me, and while his long dark hair is more messy and coarse than Clyde’s blond waves, it still makes me think of what I can’t grab.
I pinch myself, because I amnotletting myself have any erotic thoughts about my best friend.
“Yeah, need to get Smokey checked out. She’s making a tapping sound I don’t like,” I say and slide off the table, which served as my chair since we arrived. I wave at my brothers as I head for the door.
I really need air. Preferably, I’ll get some while emptying my balls.
My mind is already drifting to doing that into Clyde when someone taps the back of my shoulder.
Prophet. “Wait, I’ll come with you,” he says as we leave the clubhouse building.
I can still hear Harvey raising his voice, but that’s not my problem anymore. Too bad I can’t drift off to fantasy land on my own, or text Clyde just for the blue balls of it.
“Um, okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” I ask, because Prophet would not be leaving everyone if he had no ulterior motives. “I’m not getting another fortune reading,” I say, walking down the steps leading to the porch of the clubhouse.
“No, I just…” Prophet starts fiddling with an amber pendant as we make our way beyond the area that’s only accessible to the Vulture Hollow MC and our guests. “You’ve been… moody, man. Everything all right?”
It’s a sunny day, so warm in fact I’ve heard some of the teens say they’ll go swimming in the lake. I’m not oozing any of that shiny joy from my heart. Maybe I have to admit I’m feeling rejected, and it hurts like a motherfucker. But I can’t tell Prophet about any of it.
“Is being a shrink your new gig?” I ask in a light-hearted voice, but even I know my movements remain stiff as I stuff my hands down my pockets and walk through the gate, descending the hill where our clubhouse is located.
“I just can’t have you distracted, brother,” he says even though we both know he cares.
He’s no touchy-feely guy, I’ve seen him cut a man’s throat open, and he was the one who helped me entrap Roy Turner, but it’s that warmth and skill in observing others that makes him a good leader. He’s only a few years older than me, but people follow his suggestions because they trust him, not because they fear him. I want him to be proud of me too, but how can I bare myself when the secret I carry would be impossible for him to accept?
One time, Prophet told me a story from ancient Sparta, about a boy who stole a fox, and when discovered, kept lying until the animal chewed into his insides, resulting in the boy’s death.
I am that boy, and like him, I will not make a peep about my sexuality, or what I want to share with Clyde. If that vicious animal of a secret ends up being my doom, I accept that.
But I have to give Prophet something. “There’s just… stuff going on. I’ll be back to normal soon.”
“Okay, but you can talk to me if you need to.” He gives me a brotherly pat on the shoulder, which I do appreciate.
If Clyde wasn’t one of the Butchers, I would have tracked him down, gone to his house or something, but it’s too fucking risky.
Prophet goes on. “I’m voting for keeping the truce for now, we’re not ready for a war, but between you and me, Clyde and his uncle need to go. They won’t stop throwing salt at this whole Roy wound.”
My stomach squeezes into a ball, and I barely stop myself from holding on to where the cramp is most painful. But I’ve been through far worse than the threat of my enemy-with-benefits being offed, so I keep my composure as we stride across the central part of the settlement, passing a playground for the children, which the members have erected themselves. Everyone greets us in some fashion, and we answer in kind, even though both Prophet and I have our heads in stormy clouds.
“And how would that not end in a war? They will know it was us. And even if theywon’t know, they’ll choose to believe that.”
“They’re the only Turners left. The legacy of their father, Grizzly’s brother, lives on in them. Prune those branches, and I doubt those left behind will care as much about revenge when someone new takes the helm.”
