Otis (7 page)

“Appreciate what the club’s done for me, boss, I really do. And I appreciate the money on my books, much fucking more than the Fury did for me, that’s for Goddamned sure. But someone had to take the time to
send
it. You know, take the risk of being on the Fed’s radar for sending money to me. Just wanted to thank him, that’s all,” Jack explained.

“Introduce him to Biscuit,” Axton said as he turned around.

“Otis, we met in the courtroom,” I said as I extended my hand.

“Heard plenty about you from Syd and Toad here. They say you’re good people. If you’re good with them, you’re good with me,” he responded as he shook my hand.

“Likewise,” I nodded.

“Follow me? I’ll introduce you to Biscuit,” I said. 

Jack nodded his head.

I turned around and slowly walked inside, making certain to choose my path wisely, and trying to avoid all of the large groups of men who were gathered talking. As we walked into the shop, most of the men stopped what they were doing or talking about, and took a second glance at Jack. There wasn’t much that would typically intimidate a Sinner, but if there was, Jack just might be it. As the men gawked at his sheer size and obvious attitude, I walked up to Biscuit. As Axton hinted, he was in the corner of the shop with five of the fellas who stood eagerly listening to a story he was telling.

“Biscuit,” I said as we walked up to the group.

“What’ shakin’ O?” Biscuit said as he stopped talking and turned away from the group.

I raised my chin slightly and tilted my head toward Jack, “Man wanted to talk to ya.”

Biscuit studied Jack for a second, and stepped to the side of the group. Biscuit was as full of shit as a Christmas turkey, but intimidating him would take an army of men, not one.

“What can I help ya with?” Biscuit asked as he looked up and down Jack’s frame.

“Heard you were the one who put the money on my books,” Jack said.

Biscuit shook his head and glanced down at Jack’s boots, “Money came from the club.”

“Heard you were the one who
sent
me the money. The money the club raised for me.
You
were the one who put it on my books,” Jack said flatly.

Biscuit shifted his gaze to mine, then toward Toad, and quickly shifted his eyes to meet Jack’s, “You got the right fella. Is there a problem?”

“Just wanted to personally thank ya for sending it. I appreciate ya. If you ever need anything, just let me know. Name’s Jack.
Big Jack
,” Jack said as he extended his hand.

Biscuit grinned and shook his hand, “Biscuit. Stick around and have a beer.”

Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded his head once, “I’ll be back. Just got to see the boss about my cut.”

“I’ll be right here,” Biscuit said as he leaned forward and immediately began talking.

“He good people?” Jack asked as we turned to walk away.

“One of the few I’ll run with,” I responded, “Biscuit, Slice - the President, and Toad here, that’s about it.”

Jack nodded his head in acknowledgement as the three of us walked toward the office. As we stepped through the door, Axton held a cut up in the air and studied it.

“This is an extra-large, try it,” he said as he handed the cut to Jack.

“Everything’s American made as far as the leather goes, and I sew it all myself. Sometimes the patches look shaky, but I embroider the name’s myself,” Axton explained as Jack tried on the cut.

“Fits perfect,” Jack said.

Axton nodded his head in agreement, “Looks good.”

‘Sew ‘em up yourself, huh?” Jack asked as he removed the cut.

Axton nodded his head as he reached for the cut, “Can’t think of doing it any other way.”

“Says a lot about your pride in being the boss of the club, that’s for damned sure. Can’t ever go wrong with American made, either,” Jack said.

“We’ll agree on that, and I appreciate it. I take a lot of pride in this club, my brothers, and the quality of members. No worries about some ATF wannabe fucking with you in here,” Axton bragged.

“We’ll see about that,” Jack growled, “Far as I’m concerned, I’ll stick close to the three of you and that Biscuit fella. I’m not here to swap stories, make friends, or learn how to be a bad-ass. Nobody’d believe my stories, I’ll never have many friends, and I ain’t met a man yet who’s big or mean enough to whip me,” he paused and glanced toward me.

“Except maybe this big fucker here,” he said as he slapped his hand against my back.

Axton crossed his arms in front of his chest and grinned as he alternated glances between us, “Some fellas are lovers and some are fighters. Toad? He’s a little of both. Otis? He doesn’t know a damned thing about loving, but fighting? He could probably write a best-selling book on the subject.”

“Good to know,” Jack said.

“Have the cut ready tomorrow night,” Axton said.

Jack shifted his gaze to meet mine and tilted his head toward the door, “Appreciate it, feel naked without one. We’ll leave you to your business.”

After we walked through the door and into the shop, Jack turned to face me, “Any chance you two and that Biscuit fella want to get a little riding in? It’s been a bit since I spent any time on a bike, and I’m itching to get out on the road.”

“I’m game,” I shrugged as I glanced at Toad.

“Same,” Toad responded, “Head to town and get a beer?”

“As long as we’re headed to Avery’s old joint, I’m sure Biscuit’ll agree,” I said with a laugh.

“Why’s that?” Toad asked.

“New girl in there. Tall, thin, and kind of a dirty blonde named Kat. Cute little bitch. She’s Biscuit’s new bitch,” I said.

Toad shook his head as we walked toward the group of men gathered around Biscuit.

“When you gonna find you an Ol’ Lady?” Toad asked over his shoulder.

I shrugged my shoulders, “You heard the man. I’ll leave the loving up to you and Slice. I’m not a lover, I’m a fighter.”

And, as much as I wanted to embrace the statement, and had truly come to believe it was where I’d remain, I had my reservations as to whether or not it was where I belonged.

OTIS

The forty minute ride in the hot summer air made each of us more than ready for a cold drink by the time we rolled into the bar. The atmosphere wasn’t much different than the night Biscuit and I met Kat; with the exception of us, four patrons, a waitress, and a bartender were all that occupied the establishment. Kat not working was a minor setback as far as Biscuit was concerned, but in my eyes it allowed us to get to know Jack without any distractions.

“Otis tells me you been fucking some college girl who works here. What the hell’s wrong with you, Biscuit?” Toad asked as we sat down in the booth.

Biscuit ran his hand through his hair as he shook his head, “Shit brother, ain’t a damned thing wrong with me, wait ‘till you see her. I think you’ll agree Biscuit’s doin’ pretty damned good with this one, college girl or not. We’ve been fuckin’ like a couple of Catholic rabbits. That girl’s got the sexual drive of a three peckered billy goat.”

“She is cute as fuck,” I agreed.

“Right now, I think I’d fuck anyone who agreed to hold still long enough for me to poke ‘em,” Jack chuckled, “And that’d be about ten seconds worth, it’s been quite a stretch for me.”

Biscuit leaned into the table and rubbed his beard with his hand as he turned toward Jack, “I bet you’re hornier than a fourteen year old boy who just found daddy’s Playboy collection.”

“Pretty damned close,” Jack chuckled.

“Kitchen closes in twenty minutes if you want food. If not, the bar’s open till two. Want to see a menu?” the waitress asked.

“What? Just get some beers?” Biscuit shrugged.

“Budweiser. I don’t want Toad trying to order beers. We’ll end up with some pale ale orange apple cider bullshit,” I said jokingly.

The thirty-something year old waitress was attractive, but looked like she probably had a houseful of kids and a husband at home. The diamond ring on her finger could have been a gimmick, but the depression that had developed in the skin on her finger came from wearing it for many years if it was.

“Four Bud’s?” she asked.

“Make it twelve. We’ll go through the first four in about a
minute
,” Biscuit responded.

She titled her head to the side playfully and turned toward Biscuit, “I’ll bring eight and as soon as you set your empties at the side of the table, I’ll bring four more. You don’t want to drink hot beers, do you?”

“Smart girl right there,” Biscuit said as he tossed his head her direction, “Make it eight.”

“Be right back,” she said as she turned away.

Biscuit glanced around the group and eventually shifted his gaze upward as he rubbed his beard. It appeared he was thinking of which story he wanted to grace us with. As he searched through his memory for something to reveal to the group, Jack broke the silence.

“So you fellas take any long rides? Go to Sturgis?” Jack asked.

I shook my head, “Don’t go to Sturgis, but we make some pretty good runs. Austin for the ROT Rally, and down to Phoenix for the Arizona Bike Week. Some of the fellas go down to Daytona, but it’s a long ride and still winter here when that fucker pops off.”

“No Sturgis, huh?” Jack chuckled.

“Sturgis has become a trailer-fest. Every swinging dick in the country drags his bike there on a trailer and then rides the fucker around town for a few days. Some of the fellas head up there alone, but we don’t make a club run,” Toad responded.

Jack nodded his head and grinned as the waitress dropped off the beers. After he nervously grabbed the first beer, we all reached for a bottle.

“Never cared for that Rally myself; bunch of amateurs,” Jack said as he held his beer elevated over the center of the table.

Each of us grabbed a beer, opened it, and raised them for the obvious toast Jack intended. As our bottles clanked together, Jack spoke.

“Here’s to being free, riding hard, and sleeping on a soft bed,” Jack said.

After drinking half his bottle of beer in one gulp, he raised his bottle again. We immediately followed and waited for his next bit of wisdom.

“And here’s to Slice’s Ol’ Lady Avery. Without her, I’d still be eating Star Crunch and drinking cold instant coffee in my cell,” he said as he tilted his bottle into ours.

“Damned fine woman right there,” Biscuit said as he lowered his bottle to the table.

I gazed toward the bathroom entrance blankly as
Citizen Cope’s Sideways
began to play over the sound system. As I mentally faded away for a moment and became engrossed in the words of the music, I realized I was seated in a position which made me slightly uncomfortable. Naturally, I always tried to position myself facing the entrance of any bar I was seated in. If not, I generally stood by the door, and felt as if I was guarding the fellas from any potential harm or threat who might choose to enter. Having my back to the door made me nervous. Toad’s PTSD made him far more skittish than I was, and he always demanded he
never
be seated with his back facing the door. Tonight, Jack and Toad sat facing the door with Biscuit and I facing the restrooms in the rear of the bar. Although I felt a little uneasy, I realized having Jack’s back to the door probably wasn’t an option considering his just having been released from prison. As I tried to comprehend what Jack had been through for the many years he was locked up in prison, Biscuit’s elevated tone brought me back to a conscious state of mind.

“So, we were supposed to leave to go to the ROT Rally in about a week. There was this cute little Asian bitch working at this Thai place, and at the time, I hadn’t fucked me an Asian yet. So I’d been goin’ in there and bein’ sweet on this little bitch,” Biscuit paused and took a drink of his beer.

He rested his forearms on the table, leaned almost to the center, and widened his eyes, “So she’s a little fucker ‘bout four foot nothin’ and has these little titties that look big because she’s so damned tiny. Had an ass about the size of a Jonathan apple, but on them skinny little legs and against that eighteen inch waist it looked like Kim fucking Kardashian’s ass. So anyway, we’re a week out, and I head in there to get me some Asian pussy before the run.”

“So I get in there, and she ain’t my waitress, this other cute little chick is. But that ain’t what this is about. So I order my food and get that spicy peanut chicken shit they sell. You guys eat Thai food?” he asked with wide eyes.

“Had some,” Toad nodded.

I shook my head.

Jack shook his head and laughed, “Don’t fuck with the stuff.”

“Well, lemme tell ya, it ain’t spicy, it’s fucking
hot
. So anyway, I order this shit, and after a bit, a big plate of it shows up. Now I’m about half pissed this little Vietnamese princess ain’t working, so I gobble this shit down. Now I’m waitin’ on my check, and my gut starts making them noises. You know them noises when you
know
something’s gonna happen and it ain’t gonna be good?”

Jack nodded his head and lifted his beer, “Like after eatin’ a burrito out of the toilet.”

“What?” Biscuit snapped back, “A
toilet
burrito?”

Jack nodded his head and laughed, “Contraband. If you get caught with them, you go to the hole, so you can’t leave ‘em out in the cell, and you need to keep ‘em cold anyway. So the Mexican’s would steal the food from the kitchen and smuggle it to the cells and make up burritos. They’d sell ‘em for stamps and store. They’d come wrapped in a piece of plastic, like from a garbage bag. The end was tied and it’d be air tight, and we kept ‘em in the toilet to keep ‘em cold until we wanted to eat ‘em. Toilet’s kind of like a ‘fridge in the joint. Got sick on a few of those fuckers, that’s for sure. Sorry for interrupting, go ahead.”

Biscuit leaned away from the table and widened his eyes, “You ate shit out of a toilet?”

Jack nodded his head, “Didn’t have a choice. Food, drinks, everything. You tie a string to it, shove it in the toilet, and pull it out when you want it. If the cops come, you flush it. After they leave, if they don’t find the end of your string, you pull it back out of the sewer and either eat it or drink it.”

“God damn,” Biscuit said as he shook his head from side-to-side.

I felt the same way, but didn’t dare embarrass Jack by saying so. Life in prison was without a doubt different than life on the outside. To imagine living every day confined, under the watchful eye of the guards, and having a few thousand people who wanted to try and test your ability to fight on a daily basis was more than I wanted to try and imagine.

“Go ahead,” Jack said, “I apologize for interrupting.”

Biscuit narrowed his gaze as he stared down at the table and shook his head, “Okay, so I’m waitin’ on my check, and my gut’s a rumblin’ and makin’ noise, and I know it’s time to go. I reach into my wallet, pull out a twenty, and drop it on the table. I run out to my bike and ride that fucker home like I’d stole it. Whole way, it’s a coin toss as to whether I’m gonna shit my pants or make it on time. I pull that fucker in the drive, hop off, and run into the house, dropping my pants as I’m runnin’.”

“So I get into the shitter, and just explode. A miracle I even made it, I’m tellin’ ya. So for about four hours, I got the shits. Now for situations like this, I keep them pills, the anti-diarrhea stuff,
Imodium AD
. I take about ten of those fuckers and finally it stops,” he paused and reached for another bottle of beer.

He held his finger in the air as he took a drink to make sure we all knew the story wasn’t over. As he lowered his bottle to the table, he continued.

“So that ain’t even the story, the story’s
this
. I took so many of those damned pills that I didn’t shit for a week, and we got the rally comin’ up in two days. Finally, it came. When it did, it was a week’s worth, and about the size of a ten year old boy’s arm. Fucker ripped my ass to shreds. Now, although I finally took a shit, I’m in pretty sad shape and I got a hemorrhoid the size of a Johnsonville Bratwurst hanging out of my ass,” he hesitated, turned his palms up, and widened his eyes.

“God damn,” Jack sighed, “That’s a bitch. And the run’s a few days out?”

I’d heard the story ten times over the years from half a dozen different people. The first time it made me about half sick, but every time after the first, I couldn’t help but laugh. I was curious to hear Jack’s response to Biscuit’s problem solving skills, and sat anxiously waiting for Biscuit to continue his tale.

“Precisely. Two days until we’re gonna spend ten hours on the road, and I’ve got a little friend hangin’ outta my ass like I just gave birth. So I know I can’t make it with this hot dog hanging out of my ass. Hell, I can’t even sit down. Sleepin’ on my belly and shit, and I fuckin’
hate
sleepin’ on my belly, I’m a back sleeper. So I get me a rubber glove and I poke this fucker back up in there. Hell, after a few minutes, I feel pretty good and forget it’s even there. I stand up and take a few steps,” he paused for effect and took another drink.

He shoved his beer to the side and leaned into the center of the table. After making eye contact with each of us individually, he continued his story.

“And
bloop
- out the fucker comes. Another rubber glove, poke him back in there, and everything’s fine. Take a few steps and
bloop
- out he comes again. Now I
know
I can’t ride to Austin with my finger in my ass, so I start to thinkin’. And all of a sudden it comes to me, so I have Tater come get me in his truck and take to me that dildo shop out east. After a look around a bit, I find one of them butt plugs. Did you know they come in about ten different sizes?”

Toad, who I was quite certain had heard the story no fewer times than me, shrugged. Jack, obviously slightly uncomfortable, sat back in his seat, wrinkled his nose, and crossed his arms.

“Had no idea,” Jack responded under his breath.

“Well they do. Picked me out a little red number on the small side of things. And it had this little ring in the end made it look like a pacifier. So Tater takes me home, and I glove up, shove the hotdog inside, and poke the little pacifier in my ass. After I wiggle around a bit, it feels pretty good. Now as far as I’m concerned, problem’s solved. I’m a day out and ready to ride. Just for shits and grins, later on that night, I reach back there to check on things, you know, make sure everything’s where it should be. And I’ll be damned if that little ring, you know the part you hold on to? It’s fucking gone!”

“Huh?” Jack shrugged.

Biscuit nodded his head, “Yep. Fucker sucked right up there in my ass. So, now I got to go fishin’ for this little fucker. I glove up
again
, stick my finger up there, and fish around and find it. I pull her out, wash her up, and grease it with Vaseline and poke it back inside. Couple a minutes, and
bloop
. You guessed it, it disappears.”

“So I just say fuck it. At this point in time, I feel pretty good, other’n knowing I got a butt plug in my ass. I hop on the bike and ride out to the snow ski and mountain climbin’ store out on Central. Buy me one of those spring loaded carabiner D-rings. After I rode home, I gloved up one last time, found the little fucker, pulled it out, and hooked that D-Ring to it. Then I shoved her back in, and let the hook just hang out of my ass,” he paused and nodded his head proudly as if he’d just cured cancer.