Mountain Misfits MC: Complete Box Set Page 6

  We tear up the trails, pushing the four-wheeler to its limits, climbing up steep boulder fields and cruising through mud puddles that almost clear the tires. It’s relaxing, it’s mindless. We don’t have to talk, we can just spend some time together listening to the hum of the motor and seeing nature in its full summer glory.

  He pulls down a little sidecut, overgrown with spiky blackberry bushes getting ready for their summer bloom.

  “Holy shit, I can’t believe this is still here!” Our childhood campsite was sparse, but the fire ring is still intact, and even with all the brush growing in, I can still picture it the way it was, back when we’d spend nights on end camping, hunting, and being miniature mountain men.

  There’s a Mountain Misfits logo carved into the big oak tree along with “Brooks - President, Gavin - Vice President” in our sloppy preteen scrawl. We’d come up here and “play” club, dream about our future as the head officers.

  “Shit used to be so easy,” I sigh.

  “Yeah, well… Why isn’t it anymore?”

  That’s a loaded question. Why aren’t we spending our days hunting, building fires, living off the land, and riding our bikes?

  “All the good people in our lives die?” I suggest.

  His father had been a very good man. He saw my grandfather’s vision and ran with it to the best of his ability during his brief stint as president. When he passed away, my father went the full-blown organized crime route, jeopardizing everything they had worked so hard for in the past.

  “Or leave.” He shrugs.

  I knew he wasn’t happy that I went off to college. He took it as a personal dig, but honestly, it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me just trying to figure out where I fit into this puzzle. Being here now, I’m even more confused than when I started.

  “Don’t be mad,” I say. “I’m back now.”

  The silence between us is cut with the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the wind through the leaves, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward.

  “Listen,” I explain. “I don’t like what is going on in the club right now, but I’m not in any position to fix it. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “Well you can stop running away for one,” he says. “We need you on the board. Everyone’s just letting your old man do whatever he wants. There’s no balance.”

  “You think I can stop him? There’s ten of you and one of him. You should’ve nipped that in the bud a long time ago. Voted his old ass out. If anyone needs to take that president’s seat, it needs to be you.”

  “It’s not that easy. The old-timers think that loyalty to the president comes first and foremost, even if it’s at the cost of the club. I think they’re scared of him. Why wouldn’t they be? They saw what happened to my dad.”

  It was one of those unspoken rumors. My father was the one who found Mike dead. It looked like a suicide, and in the months leading up, he had been acting really erratic, but there were definitely some things that didn’t click.

  “We need you, Gav. Us young bucks. We want to reclaim the misfit ways. No more of this cartel shit and mansions and prostitution rings. That’s not us. That’s your dad’s greed. The more of us on the board, the better. You know you’ll get voted in vice president, no questions asked, now that Micah’s gone.”

  My brother was vice president before he left for the Marines.

  “Why didn’t you take that spot?”

  “I’m cool with being sergeant at arms right now. Keeps me outta trouble.”

  “What happened to Micah anyway?” I ask. “Nobody’s giving me a straight answer.”“I don’t know, man,” he says. “It was bad, though. He didn’t say two words to anyone before he left. So you gonna step up?”

  I run my fingers over the carvings in the tree. Maybe we weren’t so dumb when we were kids. Maybe this was my destiny. Law school is still banging around in my brain, but every moment that I spend up here makes the urge duller and duller.

  “I’ll think about it.” I haven’t had time to think since I got back. It’s been nothing short of chaos.

  “I guess that’s good enough.” He points up at the sky where a huge hawk is circling overhead, gliding along gracefully before careening in between the treetops, spotting its prey. “Let’s get outta here.”

  * * *

  We ride around a little longer, exploring these trails that I once knew so well. It does feel good to be back with my best friend, even if I know I’m a totally different person than I used to be when we were growing up together.

  Maybe I’m not giving him enough credit. Maybe he’s changed too.

  We edge into the gravel driveway and I put my head in my hands.

  “What the fuck?” I laugh.

  “Oh, Lord…” Brooks says, slamming on the brakes. “That’s not something you see every day.”

  Morgan, in all her bleached blonde glory, is fully nude, tied to the cherry tree next to the garage.

  “How the hell did you pull this off?” I ask. I’m trying not to look at her giant tits, but they are sticking out right in my face.

  “Stacy helped me! I haven’t gotten to give you your welcome home present yet!”

  I should be turned on, but I know how many others she’s given her present to, and nothing about this is doing anything for me. If anything, it’s making me laugh. I feel bad humiliating the poor girl, but desperation has never really gotten me hard. I’m more of a thrill of the hunt guy.

  “I hope you are wearing sunscreen,” I say.

  “You’re such an asshole,” she quips.

  “Brooks, you want my homecoming present?” I offer.

  “Well, it’s strangely tempting.” He laughs. “These are some solid knots. You think Stacy was a Boy Scout?”

  “Guys, just cut me down,” she pleads, the look on her face more disgust than anything. The woman has no shame.

  We get her off the tree and I give her a little pat on her soft pale ass.

  “You know we love you, girl,” I say. “Go put some clothes on.”

  She scurries off, throwing us middle fingers in the process.

  “I’ll definitely give her some creativity points there.” Brooks shrugs.

  “She really teeters the line between dirty bird and loony bird, that’s for sure. Thanks for taking me out today.”

  “No problem.” He’s staring at me intently, as if he’s waiting for some sort of reassurance that our talk set in.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say.

  “Good enough.”

  Chapter 14

  Sloan:

  I see the blue and red lights flashing in my rearview mirror and my heart starts pounding. The kilo of heroin in the glove compartment was a horrible surprise when I reached in there earlier looking for a pair of sunglasses.

  Sunglasses to cover my blackened eye. It was an accident of course.

  Now I’m getting pulled over driving fifty in a forty-five zone, and I know there’s probably more to the story than that. I’m going to be sick.

  I roll my window down as Officer Scott Brighton approaches the car. He and I were friends in high school, but aside from the occasional casual run-in at the grocery store or gas station, we haven’t really spoken in years.

  “We need to talk,” he says to me.

  “So you pulled me over?”

  “I’m just keeping you safe.”

  “I’m fine, Scott. Leave me alone.”

  He reaches through the open window and pulls up my sunglasses.

  “Yeah, you look fine to me,” he says sarcastically.

  “It’s really not your problem.”

  “Please, Sloan, I need to talk to you as soon as possible. They’re fixing to take Arthur down soon.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Scott.”

  “Oh, fuck off. Don’t you think he’s been on their radar? He’s getting sloppy. Shit’s about to hit the fan.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Wel
l, you’re a twenty-four-year-old in medical school driving a Maserati. You come from white trash and your last tax return shows zero income for the year. If I had to guess, this is going to have a whole lot to do with you real fast. I know we’re not close anymore or anything, but it would fucking kill me to see you throw your life away for this scumbag.”

  My phone rings through the speakers of the car, and Arthur’s number lights up on the screen.

  “That him?”

  I nod.

  “You gotta go?”

  I nod.

  “You’re not safe, Sloan. You have to let me help you. Please. Meet me at Larkin’s tomorrow at noon.”

  “I gotta take this.”

  “Promise me,” he says, staring into my eyes.

  “Sure.” I don’t know if I’ll actually show up, but I don’t want to sit here anymore. Knowing my luck, one of Arthur’s cronies will drive by and tattle on me.

  He slides my sunglasses back down and slips me his business card.

  “Be safe, Sloan.”

  I throw him a salute and drive off onto the freeway.

  Chapter 15

  Gavin:

  “Let’s go for a ride, Gavin,” Heat says, pulling my covers from over my head. “Come on, get up.”

  “How did you get in here, man?”

  “I waited outside the door for whoever that piece of work was you had in here last night to chew her arm off and run away. Come on, dude. It’s almost four.”

  I’ve been fucking directionless since moving back into the house. Other than club work and keeping track of Goob, there’s really nothing more to do than drink and screw. And sleep all day. I’m bored with life, but my blaring hangover isn’t giving me any reason to do anything about it.

  “Who cares?” I groan. Four, five, ten, midnight, it didn’t really matter. Same shit, different day. It’s too late for me to enroll in law school for the fall, and I know at this point I’m never going back. Might as well embrace the thug lifestyle.

  “Seriously, get up. I want to show you something.”

  “Fine.” Throwing on clothes is even a chore. My head is pounding and my mouth is dry.

  “You look like shit.” Heat laughs.

  “Thanks.”

  I put on my sunglasses in preparation for the trip outside. I know I’m not in my right mind when being in nature doesn’t make me feel good. Right at this moment, I feel like the July sun is trying to murder me, the muggy air is trying to drown me, and the gnats buzzing around my head are just trying to fucking irritate me. I saddle my bike and follow him up the winding trail.

  These roads were cut into the mountain by my grandfather and his friends, the founding members of the club. They’re straight dirt and pretty overgrown with stray branches from lack of use since my father built the mansion, but they get the job done. I know exactly where Heat’s taking me before we even pull into the gravel driveway.

  We hop off and I stand there, staring for a moment, soaking in the bittersweet vision of the place where it all began.

  “You’re not acting like yourself, Gavin. All your life everyone has known you were destined for great things. Your grandfather had a vision for this club and it revolved around you. I thought maybe bringing you out here would remind you of that.”

  “Don’t be like that, Heat. I’m no different than my father, or my brothers for that matter. This club wasn’t made for me. It was made for all of us. The only reason it’s changed is because you all allowed it to. You all wanted it.”

  The old farmhouse has seen much better days. The roof is caving in and the windows are all cracked. He opens up the front door and a giant tomcat screams at us before running off into the woods.

  “Fucker scared the shit out of me,” I laugh. I flip on the flashlight on my cell phone and I’m hit over the head with a million memories. This was the house that my grandfather built.

  This was the house he and my grandmother lived in. It doubled as the clubhouse, the dining room table was the meeting room. When I was a kid, I loved nothing more than when he’d let me sit in on those meetings. I’d help my grandma serve the guys sandwiches and top off their moonshine. I had no clue what they were even talking about, but I knew back then that the only thing I ever wanted in my life, the only thing I ever needed in my life, was a bike, a beard, and my misfit family.

  The original Mountain Misfits were a bunch of outlaws who gathered together and decided they wanted to live here in the mountains, off the grid, completely self-sustained. Things got a little diluted in my father’s generation, but now that those old guys are dropping off and these young bucks are coming up, I’m beginning to feel another big change coming on.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  “It’s sad, man.” I can feel my grandfather here. Even though this place has turned into a hotel for feral cats, everywhere I look, I see the care the old man put into making this home. He put so much care into everything, from the beams that run across the A-frame ceiling that he chopped, planed, and polished himself, to the big bay window he built for my grandmother that overlooks the field out back where deer and turkey come and feed on the apple trees he planted.

  Back then, it wasn’t about selling drugs and prostitutes and heavy artillery to the highest bidder; it was about the freedom to live your life however you saw fit. Good friends and family by your side, no worries about the world below.

  “Why’d we let this place go to shit?” I ask him. I know I can’t remember. Things got sad after my grandfather died. I never set foot in this house after that day. There were two very distinct eras of my life. Life with him, and life after his death.

  After death was when my dad started wanting to run the show.

  After death was money, violence, fear.

  I think everyone died a little bit along with him.

  “It’s a shame, huh? How long do you think it’d take the prospects to get this placed cleaned up?”

  “Cleaned up is one thing, Heat. I have a feeling this place needs to be gutted. I’m sure the well needs to be taken care of and who knows what the wiring looks like. This isn’t just a little afternoon project.”

  I kick up a warped floorboard that’s peeling back. Everything is falling apart.

  “Well, what do you have going on that’s so important, boy? You’re back now, aren’t ya?”

  I don’t have it in my heart to tell him that law school is still lingering in the back of my mind. That I’m unhappy and confused and really don’t know if this is the life for me.

  “Living in that basement is doing you no favors, son. That’s not where you belong.”

  He’s right. It’s not where I belong. I have no idea where that is. I’m straddling two worlds right now, stuck in some sort of strange purgatory created by my greedy father.

  Maybe fixing up the house will at least be something to keep my mind busy. I’ve always enjoyed working with my hands. It’ll give me something to do while I bide my time here, figure out my next move. It’ll give me a good excuse to get away from the club scene, reconnect with nature, reconnect with my roots.

  “I think you’re on to something, Heat. You think the old man will care? Grandpa did leave it to the club, not just me.”

  “You think your old man will even notice?” He laughs. “His head’s so far up his ass right now you could probably run him over with your bike and he wouldn’t have a clue. Either way, I’ll slip it in at the next meeting. I’m sure the guys will be fine with it.”

  “Yeah, let me know, I guess.” For the first time since being up here, I feel excited about something. Even though this house is dingy and dilapidated, it feels more like home than that basement apartment will ever be. It’s like I can breathe again.

  “Oh, you’re sitting in, aren’t you?” he asks. “I mean, with Micah gone, we need to vote for a new vice president.”

  “I don’t want in on the politics, Heat. Give it to Brooks. He’s put in the time. Or why don’t you do it?”

  “C
ome on, Gav. You know we need you.”

  I’m not gonna push the issue right now. It’s not worth arguing over. Becoming vice president would be the final nail in my coffin, sealing me here for life possibly. I don’t feel like explaining that to him right now.

  “Let’s get outta here, Heat. I think we’re pissing off the tenants.” I laugh. I can see at least ten cats, and I’m sure there are hundreds more, tucked in every crevice of the place. I don’t blame them. They took advantage of a good opportunity.

  I take one last hard look at the old A-frame before getting back on my bike, soaking it all in, trying to picture what it was like when Grandpa lived here. All I can see is myself, sitting on the porch swing, having a beer, a good woman by my side, maybe a dog, maybe a handful of kids running around. From this view, it doesn’t look so bad after all.

  Chapter 16

  Sloan:

  I snap a picture on my cell phone of the scruffy ball of fluffy mutt I just picked up from the humane society and send it to Arthur. His name is Bender, and I have no idea what breed of dog he is, but he’s old and ugly and I couldn’t stand to think about his fate. They said he was super low maintenance, which is ideal for our lifestyle, and the second he walked up to me and gave me his paw, I was in love.

  “Meet your new son,” I text him. “He’s so cute!”

  “You’re gonna love your new home, Bender,” I say. He’s wagging his tail as he hangs his head out the window, his whole body quivering with joy. I feel the same way. Things have been pretty stressful around the house lately and it seems like Arthur’s mood gets increasingly worse as the days go by. We’ve been talking about getting a dog forever, and when I told him I was going to go look for one, he gave me his blessing.

  “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” I had asked before leaving the house. “It’s going to be your dog, too. I want you to like him as much as I do!”