Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Born here, raised here, and I’ll fucking die here, I’m Carolina through and through. Raff rides behind me slightly and to the left in line behind Grinder but enough of a gap that I sit between them to the right. It’s a zigzag pattern that is safer on these roads. He’s always directly at my back, as my Vice President it’s where he belongs.
Shit, we go back to being in diapers, no one knows me like Raff. Back to the days of playground fights Raff is always at my side. All the brothers have my back and I have theirs. That’s Hellions life.
Yes, I am the President of the Salemburg Hellions, and we are currently riding out to the Haywood’s Landing annual barbecue. Established in the early nineties by Stud, who rides hard as a Salemburg original, we have been a solid chapter for the Hellions MC. We all know and respect what Roundman, Danza, Rocky, and Frisco built in the first charter of the club in Haywood’s Landing. Every single one of us is tied together to stand behind what they created two decades ago. Ride until we die, this is a homecoming we look forward to.
All the chapters in North and South Carolina ride in, families in tow. Tripp is now the Haywood’s Landing Hellions charter president, but not a single tradition from Roundman is ever missed. Especially this annual barbecue. From early on, Roundman’s place as our overall club president was never challenged. Knowing Tripp’s history with Roundman, there isn’t another man to be our overall president better than him. I didn’t get to ride under Roundman like Stud did or Tripp, but his legacy lives on.
This ride to the coast is calm. I can take a deep breath knowing we aren’t doing much business this weekend. While my homebase is and always will be Salemburg, North Carolina, Haywood’s Landing is the Hellions home and it’s a ride I always enjoy.
We are celebrating the past, the present, and the future.
Family is the core of the weekend ahead.
Before I can think too deeply about the term family and what it means to me, Grinder signals we are pulling off ahead. I throw up my hand with two fingers to keep the signal going down the line as each brother behind me follows suit and then we all turn off behind Grinder. I’m not sure if something is wrong with his bike or what the reason for the exit is. We’re about twenty minutes from Haywood’s Landing at one of those popular chain coffee shops.
Grinder half jumps off his bike, yelling out, “gotta take a shit, brother.” I laugh as we all roll into different spots to park. Usually, he would have signaled that he needed to pull off alone, but given our destination, the goal is to arrive together as one unit.
Raff parking to my right looks at me as I’m taking off my lid leaving my backwards baseball hat in place, “what the fuck? Why we here?”
That’s Raff, straight to the point and always following his schedule. He doesn’t like unplanned stops. Sometimes, I’ll change course just to fuck with him. It pisses him off to no end, but it keeps him on his toes.
“Grinder’s gonna get him one of them drinks with eighteen steps so he can flirt with the barista and be hopped up all fucking day,” I mutter as I climb off my Harley to stretch.
I scan the area making sure every brother makes it safely into the parking lot. As president, every member’s safety is always at the top of my priority lists.
“Bullshit,” Raff counters knowing Grinder doesn’t drink anything that isn’t beer, liquor, or water. I laugh because he’s right to call me out on that line.
“Nah, he had to drop a deuce.” I explain stepping up on the concrete deciding I’ll make my way inside for a black coffee just to give this place the business for using their restroom. Grinder has a reputation for massive shits with a stench. It’s a favorite pastime to send the prospects in to clean the bathrooms behind him.
These people here don’t need to be left with no sales or no tips after what they are going to deal with behind him.
Every prospect to ever go in after Grinder has come out looking green and ready to toss their cookies, I don’t want to subject strangers to it. We love to nail the prospects with it after he’s drank too much and given himself the beer shits. Strangers though, we don’t want any civilian casualties.
Yeah, I definitely need to buy coffee and tip extra today. They are going to earn every dollar this morning trying survive after he’s done.
Turning to the door, I collide with softness and a wave of long, dark hair. Inhaling she smells of coconut and coffee as I instinctively put my arms around her to stabilize her. Warmth hits my chest as the coffee sloshes from her cup against my t-shirt and cut.