Chereads / Brixton / Chapter 4 - Chapter Four

Chapter 4 - Chapter Four

*Brixton*

My alarm is screaming way too soon this morning. I roll out of bed, stretching, cracking my back and neck. After my shower, I grab the little container of what they call men's hair pomade… I don't know; it has a picture of Elvis on it, so I bought it once, and it actually tames this wild mop on my head I try to playoff as curls, so I just keep buying it. I put on a pair of jeans, a black shirt, my riding boots, and my cut. I grab my keys, glasses and head out the door into the garage. I fire up my bike, back out the garage, close it back and head off to the clubhouse.

There's nothing better than a Saturday morning ride, no rushing to get anywhere, just cruising. I pull up to the clubhouse, then sit and wait while the prospect opens the tall gate, then drive into my parking spot. I pull my helmet off, quickly checking my hair in the round rearview mirror, making sure my helmet didn't fuck it up. I climb off my bike, hang my helmet from one side of the handlebars and walk into the clubhouse. When I walk through the door, I smell the familiar scent of smoke and stale beer, then the loud sound of my brother laughing and cutting up filters down the hallway. For most people, the clubhouse would be intimidating or make them uncomfortable, but it's like home for me.

"Prez!!!"

They all yell as I walk in from the hallway into the bar and living room area. They are scattered around the room stretched out across every piece of furniture lounging, a few with their Ol' Ladies and some others with a Biker Bunny sitting on their lap. I see my VP Tric come from behind the bar with the old cigar box in his hand, he holds it up and shakes it back and forth in the air. Tric and I have been friends since we were shitting in diapers; I've been a part of the MC life since birth because my dad was the President before he passed the MC down to me. At the ripe age of 16, I was patched into the MC through blood ties with my dad. So I didn't have to do the usual one year of prospect. Tric didn't have any connection to the MC, so for him to bypass the year of prospecting as well, he had to pay his way in by spilling blood, earning himself the name Tric in the process.

"Alright, little boys, let's go," Tric yells through the room.

All of them stand up, walk over to him, drop their cell phones in the box, and head to the big meeting room while Tric locks the box in a drawer behind the bar. Not long after my dad took over the MC back in the day, one of the Brothers turned on them and used his cell phone to record the meetings and send recordings to whoever he was working for. They were also using the cell phone to track him; well, one night during a big drop, our Club was ambushed, and we lost four brothers because of it. That's when my dad created a rule where cell phones were not allowed in or near Club meetings for any reason. So, cell phones get locked up in the farthest part of the Clubhouse til after the meeting. I walk into the room and sit down in my chair at the head of the table; Tric sits to my left, and my other close friend, that's also my Sargent of Arms, Steel, sits to my right.

I sit and watch as all of my brothers quickly make their way into the room and to their designated seats; once everyone is in the room, Steel shuts the door and joins us at the table. I grab my gavel and slam it down onto the table, silencing the room and turning everyone's attention to me.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called for an extra church this week, but there needs to be a club vote. As some of you know, Jay owns a bar across town."

They all nod their heads, letting me know they knew the bar I was referring to.

"Unfortunately Jay found out last week that his cancer has returned, and he will no longer be able to maintain the bar. As we have discussed in the past, it's time to start earning some more honest, clean money. Jay is offering to sell the bar to the club, helping both himself and the club financially."

There's an uproar of cheering and clapping from the guys, who are clearly excited about this plan; I slam the gavel down on the table, silencing the room again.

"Before we vote, I need to make some things very clear; this bar is for us to earn clean money. There is to be no dealing of any sort anywhere on the property, drugs or prostitutes… I'm talking about you, Steel," I say, pointing to my left at Steel as he shrugs with a big mischievous smile across his face.

"All of you are welcome to come and hang out in the bar any time it's open, but you will not act like drunk baboons as you do here when you party. This is our business, so act like you have some kind of common sense in those tiny brains of yours. As far as I know, right now, there are only five female bartenders; as long as they work for us in the bar, they are under the club's protection. Listen to this next part very carefully… these ladies are NOT biker bunnies, and I will not tolerate them being treated like a biker bunny. These ladies are to be respected and treated as hard-working ladies who are working hard for a living. Tric will make a rotating schedule of brothers who will work alongside the current bouncers to keep drunken dumbasses from touching or hurting the bartenders in any way. All three prospects are to patrol the parking lot from an hour before the bar opens when Bartenders arrive till the last one leaves. I also will not tolerate any female employee walking to their vehicle alone at the end of their shift; there was an incident last night that left me with the impression something has happened there at some point in the past."

I look around the table at all of them as they nod, telling me they understand; I turn my head towards Steel, "Start us off, brother."

"Ay," Steel says, then turns and looks at the guy sitting next to him.

We make it around the table, all voting yes, now we are staring at Tric waiting for his vote. Tric reaches up, and starts running his hand over his poor excuse for a goatee, then looks up like he's thinking.

"Well, I don't know…"

He sits there, quiet for a few more moments, then starts laughing, "HELL YES, I'M IN!"

"You're a dick,"

I say, looking at Tric as I shake my head; I turn back towards the others,

"I'm a yes, alright brothers, first shift at our bar starts tonight, everyone is to be there and make sure you go home and shower before you show up… No one wants to smell your disgusting asses all night long."

I hit the gavel to the table one last time, stating the meeting is over.