Today started off just like any normal damn day. Woke up hungover as shit, fucked the club mama who warmed my bed last night until she was sore, and went to Church, but as soon as I walked into our meeting room, I knew today was going to be fucked all to hell.
“Nice of you to join us, Hero,” says the president of our club, Raze. The smirk on his face tells me he knows what I was doing. Most of the guys in this room probably got their dick wet this morning, so the fact he’s calling me out is bullshit. Shrugging my shoulders in return with a shit-eating grin on my face, I can’t help myself from not dishing it back.
“Sorry, Prez. Just had to get my daily dose of vitamin T & A for breakfast. I’m a growing boy, you know,” I say with a laugh while taking my seat next to him. Raze just shakes his head at me while the other men surrounding our table all laugh. Tyson, our club treasurer, nods in agreement and leans close to me.
“Was the pussy worth being late?” he asks in whispered tones. The night’s activities might have been hazy, but the pretty little pussy I pounded into for over an hour this morning satisfied my cock.
“Isn’t good pussy always worth it, Ty?”
“Fuck yes, brother, you never pass up a chance for that grade-A choice pussy you picked up last night. Wish there was more of it around here,” he states with a laugh as Raze clears his throat.
“Now that Hero’s gotten his rocks off and his ass in his seat, we can finally start Church,” says Raze. The meeting moves on as normal as we discuss our upcoming charity runs to raise money for a local kid with cancer. Timmy is on the road to recovery, but his medical bills nearly bankrupted his folks. The Heaven’s Rejects MC may be filled with tattooed, meat-head bikers that would make even a devout nun rip her panties off and offer herself to one of us, but we take care of our friends and neighbors. We take care of those who take care of us, and Timmy’s dad took care of some warrants we needed scrubbed off the books for one of our newer brother’s. Sure, Upland, CA is typically a pretty quiet suburb, but it has its moments like any town. Before the club was established in 1986 by Raze’s dad and our former Vice President, Jagger, thugs hiding from the authorities called Upland home. Those bastards were the first to go as the club cleaned up the town. We have enough shit to deal with our own version of outlaws. At least our guys knew to keep their illegal shit behind closed doors back then.
The Heaven’s Rejects MC is known for our protection services. We make our money with the guns attached to our shoulders instead of the guns at our hips... Our phone rings off the hook with business proposals from concerned rich daddies worried about their perfect little whore daughters going out for a night on the town to the occasional politician needing some muscle for a back alley campaign money deal. You can say we cater to all walks of life as long as the money is good,.. We do the dirty work that no one else will handle We don’t carry the 1%ers patch marking us as an outlaw club, but we don’t exactly follow all the rules of decent civilian society either. You could say we toe the line of being civilized.
Sure, the club dabbled in dealing for a while, but California legalizing weed medically killed our business overnight. You may need to have a medical reason to get it, but every Dick or Jane with a dirty doctor or a pain problem could get it now so it’s not exactly hard to come by anymore. Cocaine and running guns were offered to us after the weed business tanked, but the club decided unless we trafficked it ourselves, we didn’t want to deal with fucking cartel bullshit. The club might have jumped at the chance in the rougher days of the club, but we’re as legit as we can be now. Heaven’s Rejects has seen just about as much blood and chaos as I did serving overseas in the military in its early years, but shit is finally starting to settle down to a low boiling chaos. We work hard to keep our noses clean as possible, but every once in a great while, the law will be breathing down our necks for some fucking stupid thing one of the prospects pulled.
I zone back into the conversation at our Church table when I hear yelling coming from outside.
Ratchet, our Sergeant at Arms, busts through the room doors with a bloody cut in his hands. Raze sees the cut before anyone else and moves across the room in long strides before I even realize what’s going on. Fuck, I shouldn’t have shot tequila last night. My brain is slow on the uptake today, and I need it to function to process what the fuck just happened. Raze rips the leather cut from his hands, flipping it to the front to see the name patch. His eyes harden as the name comes into his view. His head hangs as he throws the cut to the table. “It’s Jagger. Fuck! Where did you find this, Ratchet?”
Ratchet hangs his head. “Prez, the cut isn’t all that I found. You need to come out back to the storage shed.” The entire room empties out the back doorway of the clubhouse to avoid alarming the old ladies and kids in the main room. If this as bad as I think it is, they don’t need to know about this until we get whatever’s in that shed out of here. We all walk across the dirt parking lot of the clubhouse to the small shed where we store spare Harley parts from our repair shop in town. Rounding the corner of the building, I can smell Jagger before I see him. The heat of the day didn’t waste any time cooking his body. When he finally comes into view, he’s been strung up by his arms from the rafters.
His face is nearly unrecognizable from the blood and bruises that mar his flesh. His body is covered in bloody cuts, but it’s his stomach where I notice the calling card left by his murderers. Two T’s are gouged into his stomach just above his navel. The only word I can manage is, “Fuck,” since the gruesome sight of his mangled body is enough to completely kill the buzz from last night’s party. Thugs and rival clubs know not to fuck with our MC’s territory, but apparently there are some days even I am wrong.
Our brotherhood stands in silence for what seems like an eternity as we silently take in the bloody scene. “Prez, we have to do something about this!” Ratchet says with heated words. “They killed Jagger, Raze. We have to hit them back.” Raze turns to Ratchet and charges toward him.
He comes inches from Ratchet’s face before he speaks. “Ratchet, calm the fuck down. We all lost a brother today. Twisted Tribe will be dealt with in time. You know as well as the rest of us that they expect us to avenge Jagger’s murder immediately. I know how you feel, Ratchet, because every man standing around you feels the same damn way. The Tribe fuckers will pay with their life for spilling the blood of one of our own but today, we need to mourn his loss. Darcy and the kids aren’t going to handle the news well. We need to make sure they are taken care of, and then the fuckers who did this will go down in a blaze of gunfire and flames. “
I move beside Raze to show the men I stand with his decision. “Raze is right. Today, we mourn, but tomorrow, we will burn the Twisted Tribe to the fucking ground.” Looking at the men standing around me, I can see the rage and sorrow within their eyes= “Ratchet, grab Slider and get Jagger down from there. Clean him up the best you can and call Morton’s Mortuary; they owe us a favor. Have him prepare Jagger’s body so Darcy and the kids can see him like he was before these bastards destroyed him.” Ratchet nods and stalks back to the clubhouse to retrieve our newest prospect. If taking down Jagger’s body doesn’t break him into the potential club life, I don’t know what will. Slider’s a good kid, but he needs to build up more of a backbone if he even thinks he’ll be patched in as one of us.
Slider and Ratchet return to the shed as the rest of us move back into our meeting room, which is now blanketed in sobered silence. Raze cuts through the silence long enough to make a quick vote to offer to pay for Jagger’s funeral expenses as well as set up a fund for his young boys. The vote passes unanimously as expected and we file out of Church in the the main room, which is littered with the old ladies and club mamas. Maj, Raze’s old lady, is behind the bar inventorying the damage we did at the party last night when her eyes lock onto Raze. Even I can tell that she knows that something is wrong... She drops the pad of paper she was carrying and immediately leaves from behind the bar. Maj wraps her arms around Raze as the the King and Queen of Heaven’s Rejects head back to their suite in the clubhouse. Raze needs her and Maj will make sure that Darcy and the boys will get what they need.