Page 1 of Romeo
Prologue
Romeo
Seven years old.
I walk home from school with my best friends ever, Ash, Ace, Thor, Beau, and Josh. We’re the Satan’s Warriors MC spawns; that’s what the Brothers say.
We’re the MC’s brats; that’s what Dad says we are.
I don’t think that we’re brats; we only like to have fun.
I don’t get it.
I follow my friends, who are almost like my brothers. I know that we will always be brothers because I’m going to Prospect as soon as possible. First, I have to finish high school, Dad said. Dad is the Enforcer, and I’m so proud that he’s such a badass.
I follow my brothers up the gravel road to the clubhouse. I live there with Dad, and I don’t have a mommy. Emma left me behind and broke my heart, and I’ll never forget what she said.
Kevin, shut the fuck up! I’m not taking you with me! I don’t want you in my life; I don’t love you or your bastard dad!
I shake my head, trying to clear my mind; her words hurt. It’s been two years, and it still hurts. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget what she said. And I don’t understand why she hates me. I tried to be a good boy. I always did as she said. I never asked her for much, not even a hug. But Dad gives me great big hugs and even gives me kisses all over my face. That has to stop because I’m getting too old for kisses all over my face. It’s embarrassing; the brothers always laugh.
We get closer to the clubhouse, and I can smell the chocolate chip cookies I know Mama Bear made.
Ah, hell yes!
Okay, now I’m really happy. She always makes them at least once a week, and I’m always the first one to get a cookie.
“Hell yes, Mama Bear made some cookies,” I say, walking across the gravel at high speed, taking big, long strides to quickly get to the clubhouse.
“Fuck, I’m getting me some after I put my stuff away,” Josh says, walking behind me.
Josh is my best friend; we’re the same age and always together.
“Okay, I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” I say, lifting my chin.
I run into the clubhouse, waving at the boys, stopping before I get to the kitchen door. I run my fingers through my collar-length hair and pull on my hoodie. I have to be on my best behavior so that I can get my cookies.
I open the kitchen door, and I walk over to Mama Bear, tucking my hands in my hoodie and inhaling deeply.
Oh yes, I smell cookies.
“Mama Bear, could I have a cookie,” I ask, walking into the kitchen.
I love Mama Bear because she’s like a real mommy. Mom took off with another man, leaving me with Dad when I was five. I can barely remember what she looked like, but what I do remember is that she was mean and didn’t like to talk to me. Dad is okay, but Mama Bear is nice.
Mama Bear turns to look at me; her lips turn up into a huge smile.
“Of course, Kevin, you’re such a good boy that you deserve all of the cookies in the world,” Mama Bear says, nodding.
“Thank you, Mama Bear,” I say, smiling.
Mama Bear walks over to the huge glass jar where she keeps all of the cookies. She grabs two and hands them to me with a napkin.
“Kevin, would you like some milk with your cookies,” Mama Bear asks, running her hand through my thick, long, shoulder-length blonde hair.
“Yes, please,” I say, nodding.
I take a bite of the chocolate chip cookie, my favorite.
