Authors: SD Hildreth
AXTON
“So this motherfucker looks up at the television and says, I’m gonna go take a shower, and when I get back, it better be on Family Feud.”
“You see, in the joint, it’s just like it is in the club, it’s all about respect. They vote on what to watch, and whatever wins the vote is what they watch. Everything’s put on a list. You know a week in advance what you’re gonna watch. Family Feud is on the list, but big boy is watching Jerry fuckin’ Springer. And in the joint it don’t matter how big a motherfucker is or how small he is. Now the fella watching the T.V. was about three fucking hundred and six foot six; he was bigger’n Otis. And the fella headed to the shower was maybe five foot five and a buck twenty.”
“So big boy keeps watching Jerry Springer or whatever it was. I sat back at my table and watched. I knew what time it was. Little man comes out of the shower and walks over between us. He looked up at the T.V. and shook his head. When he walked back to his cell, I stood up and got my back to the wall. Hell, you never know in the joint when one fight will pop off a riot. So, I’m watchin’ over to little man’s cell, and here he comes. Got a tube sock danglin’ from his fist.”
“A fucking sock?” Hollywood shrugged.
Corndog nodded his head, “Yep.
Lock in a sock
. You take the padlock off your locker and put it in a fuckin’ tube sock. Now, that lock ain’t much, but in the bottom of a sock when you’re swinging it, that’ll knock the biggest motherfucker to his knees.”
“Let the man finish his story, you rude prick,” Otis chuckled as he tilted his beer toward Hollywood.
“So little man walks up behind the big fella in a wide sweep, and swings the fucking sock. Funniest fuckin’ thing I ever seen. You see, a two foot sock stretches to about three feet when it’s got a three pound lock in the bottom of it and you’re swinging that fucker about sixty miles an hour. So the sock stretches, and just wraps around big boys head coming back and hittin’ little man’s wrist,” Corndog stopped talking and raised his bottle of beer to his mouth.
After a long drink, Corndog lowered the bottle to his waist, and rested his thumb on his belt, “Now big fella gets up and his eyes are as wide as a motherfucker. That little prick recovers from the first swing, leans back and…”
“WHACK! The fucking lock hits this motherfucker on the temple and down this bastard goes like a sack of shit. And little man steps on his chest with one foot and just pummels this prick into a bloody pile of toothless shit. He finally gets satisfied that his work is done, and he looks over to me and nods his head. I nod back. He walks over to his cell, washes the lock, flushes the sock down the shitter, and walks back out,” Corndog paused and took another drink of beer.
“So guess what the little fucker does now?” Corndog asked.
I shrugged, expecting I already knew the answer.
“Drags that big fucker over about ten feet, sits down, and switches the television to Family Feud. Like nothin’ happened. When the Goon Squad shows up, he says he didn’t even notice the fucker layin’ there. Here’s the other thing. Nobody saw shit. That’s how it works in there. No fucking snitches.
Snitches get stitches for being punk ass bitches,
” Corndog nodded.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re out,” I said as I slapped him on the back.
“Feels like I never left, Slice. Shit, time in that bitch goes slow as fuck, but once you’re out, it’s all good. Little ol’ five year bit? Shit I’ll do the next five standing on my head,” he chuckled.
“Well, this little barbeque is for you, brother,” I nodded.
“Appreciate it, brother. I’m gonna wander around. Hell there’s a hundred fuckers here I ain’t seen in a bit,” he grinned.
“Stay out of trouble, Dog,” I smiled.
As long as I had waited for him to be released, and as much as I anticipated his arrival at the barbeque, it seemed odd having him back. Five years is a long time. In his eyes nothing changed. It was as if he stepped out of a meeting and stepped right back in. In my eyes, he’d been gone for five years. A lot happened in the time he was gone. New members, members retiring, some being locked up, and others died. Be as it may, Corndog was out of prison, and I was glad to have him back.
As I stood amongst the few men who had surrounded Corndog to listen to his story, I glanced around, looking for Avery. I hadn’t seen her since she walked away with Sloan fifteen minutes prior. Not necessarily worried, but a little uncomfortable about her wandering around a hundred bikers without a
Property Of
patch, I had my doubts even she would walk around for long without someone doing or saying
something
.
“Anybody seen Sloan?” I asked into the crowd.
“In the dyno room with Toad. Has been for half hour,” Otis responded.
“Hasn’t been half a fucking hour, Otis,” I hissed as I looked down at my watch.
“Fuck it hasn’t. It’s ten o’ clock,” Otis responded.
“Why the fuck ain’t you in there with Toad? And where the fuck is Pete?” I growled.
“Toad’s alone with that bitch. He wanted
first in
, so he got it. That chic’s nuts, Slice. Toad told her he wanted to fuck her until she’d have to be hauled off in a wheel chair.
That
was his pick-up line. And what’s she say?
Bring it.
That was her response.
Bring it
. So, that crazy fucker Toad snaps his fingers like a high school cheerleader and does that deal with his head, and says,
it’s been brought
,” Otis laughed as he swerved his head from side-to-side.
Unamused, I looked around the crowd for Avery. There were probably fifty people in the shop talking or gathered around the kegs drinking and another fifty or so in the paved parking lot outside. I scoured the crowd in the shop.
Nothing.
Let’s go out in the lot, Otis. I need to see what the fuck Avery’s up to.
“Got it, Slice,” Otis said as he began to push his way past the people standing by the door.
As we wandered into the parking lot, I noticed there was a small crowd gathered in the corner near the street. It appeared two men were fighting. Nothing out of the ordinary for a biker get together, but I still needed to find out who it was and what the fuck was going on. The crowd surrounding the two men was pretty quiet while one of the two was talking mad shit to the other. I didn’t recognize the voice, so I assumed it was someone from Wichita who I didn’t necessarily know.
Our typical
open
gatherings were used to invite outsiders to see what the club was like, what we did, and what we stood for. The Sinners did not recruit talent. Potential prospects came to us and asked questions about becoming a member. As a result, we often invited outsiders to our parties to let them see what we were all about. If they were interested, and asked the question
so what’s it take to be a member?
We’d take time to explain. Some outsiders later became
hang-arounds
, some lost interest, and others become
prospects
. Having people I didn’t necessarily recognize or know at parties wasn’t anything new.
I followed Otis toward the group. As we got closer to the two arguing men, I noticed Avery was standing on the side watching the fight intently. Otis tapped me on the shoulder and pointed toward Avery. I nodded my head in acknowledgement, walked to her side, and rested my hand on her shoulder. She spun around nervously and widened her eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.
“Watching these two dip-shits,” she responded as she tilted her head toward the two men.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “What fucking part of
stay by my side
didn’t you underfuckingstand?”
“I’m sorry Axton, but you were talking to Corndog and the rest of the fellas, and some asshole walked up to me and started being a total dick. I tried to get away from him, and I tapped you on the shoulder like twice but you never paid attention, so I figured you were busy. I just wanted him to leave me alone, so I wandered out here to get away from him. Then he found me again. When he wouldn’t let up, the other guy told him to shut the fuck up. Now they’re in an argument.”
“God damn it. I told you if anyone fucked with you, to find me or Otis, didn’t I?” I said under my breath.
She nodded her head sheepishly.
“Uhhm. That’s the one who told the other guy to shut the fuck up,” Avery whispered as she pointed toward the bigger of the two men.
Neither of you two would bust a grape in a food fight. Stop trying to impress the ladies, fellas, no one cares.
“Break it up, fellas,” I shouted uncaringly toward the two men.
As soon as I spoke, the bigger man’s gaze shifted to where I stood. I didn’t recognize either of the two men. Neither of them wore a cut or colors from a club. They appeared to be two bikers from out of town somewhere who were invited by someone in the club to come enjoy the fun. The bigger of the two had shoulder length hair, and was doing all of the shit-talking to the other man.
“This asshole was being disrespectful. Everything’s just fine. Now why don’t you get your hand off of
my bitch?
” the bigger man said over his shoulder.
Are you fucking shittin’ me?
I pushed my way through the crowd, “
Your
bitch?”
“Let me explain something,
motherfucker
,” I said as I pushed the smaller man to the side.
As I grabbed the sides of his hair in my hands, his eyes widened. Without any notice or saying a single word, I thrust the top of my head into his nose. As I felt it shatter from the force of my head crushing down on his face, I released his hair from my grip and swung a right uppercut into his jaw.
He collapsed onto the concrete.
“
God damn
,” I heard someone holler.
“
That’s the President of the Sinners
,” I heard someone else say.
“You just need to pick him up and get him on out of here,” Otis said as he stepped through the crowd and into the area where I stood.
I pointed down at the man who was laying silently on the concrete, “Him?” I snapped.
“I’m just getting started,” I said under my breath.
I swung my right foot into his stomach, “Get up you worthless piece of shit.”
“Slice, he’s
done
. That right hand knocked him the fuck out,” Otis chuckled.
I shook my head, “No. I’m nowhere near done with this mouthy prick.”
“I said get up,” I growled as I kicked him in the stomach again.
“Where’s the other motherfucker, the one who was fucking with Avery?” I asked.
Otis shrugged his shoulders.
I stared down at the motionless body. I reached down and pulled him to his feet by his hair and belt. The thought of
anyone
fucking with Avery angered me to an unhealthy level. Adding salt to the wound came from the stupid fucker claiming Avery as
his bitch
because he had stepped in and
saved
her from the mouthy prick who started the problem in the first place. Everything around me became a haze. The sound of the music, people, talking - it all felt distant.
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Slice!”
I spun in the direction of the voice with my hands raised, ready to fight.
“Slice, drag him out to the street. Come on, it’s over. You beat that poor fucker half to death. Someone’s gonna call the fucking cops. You made your point. We got the other guy out of here,” Otis explained.
I looked down at the man on the concrete. His face was almost unrecognizable. Blood covered his face, hair, and shirt. His lips looked like hamburger and both eyes were swollen partially shut. I glanced down at my hands. Both were covered in blood, and the knuckles on my right hand were beginning to swell.
“God damn, I think I just lost it. Where’s the other guy?” I sighed as I raised my hands to my face.
“Toad got him. Wasn’t too pretty. Kinda broke up the little party,” Otis chuckled.
I looked around the parking lot. Roughly to-thirds of the people were gone. Somehow, I had no memory of what had happened. Although this wasn’t the first time something similar had happened, it hadn’t happened since I was a kid. When I found the quarterback fucking my girlfriend, I ended up in jail for the beating I gave him. I didn’t remember any of it. I learned in court he had a broken jaw, fractured skull, and a few broken ribs as a result. Another time, when I was in my early twenties, my father and I were in a terrible fight. It was the first time I stood up to him, and the last time we really spoke. I have no doubt he’ll remember what I did to him for the remainder of his miserable life.
I glanced down at the heap of shit on the concrete. I shook my head and rubbed my knuckles as I shifted my gaze to Otis, “So what happened to the other dude?”
“Can we drag this fucker to the street? You done, boss?” Otis laughed.