Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
He didn’t want to get pissed.
“Not ashamed of it,” he stated tightly. “Ma wasn’t either.”
Rush looked to him and repeated, “No one has to know.”
He got it then.
If he joined, he’d be in the brotherhood, but that didn’t mean they owned him. That didn’t mean they got every piece of him. That didn’t mean he owed them dick.
He came as he came. He gave what he gave. And both were his choice.
Harlan had to admit he was surprised about that.
Especially coming from Rush.
“So how does that work, considering what I know of this business, you join up, it’s all in for life?” he asked.
“You do your time as a prospect,” Rush explained. “Warning, it’s gonna be shit. It’s not about hazing. It’s about duty. Loyalty. Commitment. The brothers decide you’ve done enough time, we patch you in. Through this, and after you earn your patch, you work the store or the shop. You get paid like any brother, a percentage of the monthly take. Except it’s less as a recruit. You patch in, you get what we all get.”
More surprise.
“Equal?”
“No one is above anyone else in the Club, Harlan.”
“No matter the time they got in?”
Rush shook his head. “No matter anything, outside your status as recruit or patched-in brother.”
“And that’s it?”
A smile curved Rush Allen’s lips. “You haven’t been a recruit. It sucks bein’ at the beck and call of a bunch of assholes who might be in the mood to bust your balls.”
That did not sound fun.
“You do it?”
Rush jerked up his chin. “Everyone does it. Even a legacy, like you.”
That surprised him too.
It also cut him.
He took his own drag from his beer, looked away and said, “Nah, man. I’m not legacy.”
“I think Pete, Dad, Hop, High, Hound, Arlo and Boz would disagree.”
“They were good to her,” Harlan muttered.
“We’re good to a lot of people, man. You decide to let me sponsor you, find out for yourself.”
Harlan tipped his head toward the forecourt. “You gotta know, life I’ve lived, that seems too good to be true.”
“What you should know is that Big Petey shared the essentials, nothing else, so I don’t know,” Rush told him. “That’s yours to give or keep to yourself.”
Harlan found that interesting.
Rush kept on. “It isn’t like we don’t have rules, we just don’t have many of them. We also have structure. There’s a hierarchy. It isn’t about lording over anyone. It’s about keeping balance and order. This is a democracy. Every man with a patch has a vote that’s as equal as everything else. But prospects have a voice, and we all got ears, so they might not have a vote, but they’re heard.”
Harlan nodded that Rush was also heard, and Rush kept at it.
“Straight up, no drugs. Weed, okay. That’s legal. Other shit, that’s a problem. You do you, but if you get a woman and you do her dirty, you have kids and you fuck them up, or you mess with the brotherhood, that’ll be a problem, and the Club will deal with it. You’ll be given the chance to have your say, but you won’t have the choice but to abide by the decision of the brothers.”
None of this was an issue for Harlan.
Harlan turned back to him. “I like my job.”
“I get it. Action.”
That wasn’t it, but Rush didn’t get that.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
“You join, you learn, we don’t just run a store and make kickass cars,” Rush informed him.
And again, he was surprised. His ma told him they got out of all that shit.
“Outlaw?” he asked.
Rush’s lips curved again.
“Not the bad kind,” he said and took another drag from his beer.
Harlan did too.
But this time when he did it, he found he was intrigued.
Beat-up chairs.
Potluck party.
The screeches and giggles of kids mingled with men’s and women’s laughter and metal.
The “rules” being no drugs and treating your women, kids and brothers right, and that was it.
“Not the bad kind” of outlaw.
Harlan threw back some more beer and settled in.
Because…yeah.
Harlan was intrigued.
Very intrigued.
Diana
Tucson, Arizona
Several years earlier than Harlan and Rush’s conversation…
But also a Saturday.
The college administrator came out of her office, gave me a look I couldn’t decipher, and then said, “Your father wants to have a word with you. You can use my office.”
She smiled a tight smile, and I could decipher that.
Nolan Armitage wants to have a word with you, you come in on a weekend to have that word with him. He wants a private word with his daughter, you let him use your office to do it.
As I passed her, I mumbled, “Sorry.”
I couldn’t stop myself. It was habit. I did it a lot when Dad got involved.
She said nothing and closed the door behind me.
Dad was standing there, and when he had picked me up earlier to bring me here, I knew he wasn’t messing around. It was the weekend, and he was in a full three-piece, look-at-me-I’m-important!, custom-tailored suit.