Page 10 of Romeo
"Bubba, what's up," Dad says, walking over to stand in front of his desk.
It's the money that needs to be put in the clubhouse safe. I stand at the door, crossing my arms.
"It’s all good; the crowd is rowdy as always,” Bubba says, pulling at his red beard and leaning back into the chair.
The Brother is huge, built like a tank. He’s from the south, so he’s Bubba. He’s one of the original Brothers.
“Yeah, it sounds like it,” Dad says.
Then gunshots ring out over the loud music.
“What the fuck,” Bubba yells, pushing off his chair.
“Let’s kill some fuckers,” Dad shouts.
We rush out into the main room; the girls are yelling and running. The Brothers working the strip club are scrambling to take cover behind the bar and turn some tables.
Dad shoots back at the fuckers and runs behind the pillar. I pull out my Glock from my back and look around. I take cover behind a chair.
I look at their jacket, the white letters. The Herd Boys. Motherfuckers are trying to take over our turf.
Fuckers!
I take cover behind the chair, and I start shooting. I hit one fucker, and he falls. I keep shooting at the bastards.
Fuck!
It takes a few minutes for us to kill them. I stop shooting and look at my Dad. He’s walking over to look at the fuckers. The clients run out of the strip club. The girls are hiding in the back. The tables are turned, the mirrors are smashed, and glass and beer are all over the floor. I follow Dad and look at the fuckers on the floor. They look dead; one is on top of the other one. Dad looks at the two fuckers, and takes a step. I see the fucker on the bottom lift his hand, ready to shoot at Dad. I shoot at the bastard, hitting him in the head. His fucking brains splatter on the floor.
“What the fuck,” Dad growls, shooting the two fuckers.
“Thanks.”
“I’m calling Prez,” Bubba says, walking over.
“Yeah, we need clean up here and the Prez to call the police chief,” Dad says, walking over to the other fuckers and shooting them.
Yeah, making sure that they’re dead.
A few days later.
The rain is falling hard, and the sky is black and white. The cold chill runs down my spine, and I grind my molars.
My soul is cold, numb.
I can’t believe it.
It happened so fast.
One minute, he’s here with me being a good Dad, and then he’s not.
Dad is gone.
I stare at the dirt covering the casket, turning into mud. My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. My Dad is gone and now I’m all alone. I wipe my face on my long-sleeved black t-shirt. I’m wiping the tears and the fucking rain.
I can’t fucking believe that he’s gone.
The po-po raided the MC’s bar. My old man was moving his hand to pull out his cell phone to call the Prez, and the po-po fired.
