Shadowing Me
Page 15
With that, I spin on my heels and stomp away. I might as well play the part he has not so graciously given me. I wish I could see his not so smug face right now, but I refuse to turn around and look.
***
Chapter Eight
Shadow
I didn’t sleep for shit last night. Tatiana’s words kept playing over and over in my head. I said my shit all wrong. I didn’t mean to make her upset. Fuck, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I was trying to sweep the shit under the rug so we both could go back to normal. I didn’t think, for one second, it would go down like that.
Due to my lack of sleep, I’m off my game, so I ask the Prez if I could trade places with ZZ, and stay here on watch. With my head clouded and confused, there is no way I will be able to focus in that meeting with the Chinese. I might miss the smallest movements, and in doing so, cost one of my brothers their life if that shit goes down the wrong way.
When he agrees, I’m thankful I am able to hang back with the others. We don’t speak as our ladies rumble between our legs. We wait patiently while the others are inside.
After a few minutes, I’m confident I made the right call because all my focus circles right back to the conversation with Tatiana. It screeches in my mind like the needle on a broken vinyl record. Each way it plays reminds me how bad I fucked up that shit. There is no doubt in my mind that it will take an endless amount of time for her to forgive me. End being the key word, because I believe that she’ll never forgive me for this. I think about what a life without her friendship will be like, and all I come up with is empty, blank, and meaningless. Those three words don’t sit well with me.
Fuck!
I’m empty enough. I have no desire to become a bottomless pit, and that is what will happen if I don’t fix this as soon as possible. She’s truly my only real friend. She may not know much, but she knows more than the others do, because she is the only person who can look through the black.
She can see past it.
The sound of roaring motorcycles brings me back from my thoughts. We all breathe a long sigh. I don’t think anyone was ready to turn things red today. The brothers are sick and tired of bloodshed. We’ve had enough of it to last two lifetimes.
But when the Prez roars past us, nodding in the direction of home, he looks none-too-pleased with the outcome of the situation. As soon as they’ve all sped by, the rest of us pull out right behind them.
***
Once we park our bikes, we head straight to church. Sitting around the table, we wait patiently for our Prez, and when he enters the room, he slams the door, walks over to his chair, and kicks it so hard that it shatters once it hits the wall. We wait for him to calm. No one dares to speak. No one dares to make a sound. Hell, no one dares to make a move.
“Fuck,” he roars while fisting his hair. His face turns red with rip-roaring anger. “That motherfucker.”
Jesus Christ, it must have been bad, worse than what half of us think.
“I can’t believe I let her talk me into this fuckin’ shit.” His loud voice booms throughout the room.
Oh shit… he’s pissed, at not only the Chinese, but also his wife. I have no doubt that each one of us is thinking the same fucking thing. The club is going to be tense for a little while. When mom and dad can’t play nice, the kids aren’t happy.
“Her little control issue cost me 11.5 million fucking dollars. Goddamn, this is bullshit,” he rants, his fist clenching and unclenching.
Cost him? It cost the damn club. We’ve earned that shit. A thermometer is not needed to feel how hot it is in this room. The smell of anger from the fuming bodies is so thick in the room, I can almost taste it on my tongue. The amount of money we’re paying for this project has more than one of us blazing with rage.
“Never in my goddamn life have I bowed down like that.” He tilts his head to the ceiling and howls in anger.
I grab my face in my hands, shaking my head in disbelief. Not only did we lose a truckload of money, our Prez looked weak. This truly is a hard hit on the club, and he has every right to be as angry as he is.
“I’ll give you the fucking money, jackass,” Winter screams through the closed door.
Oh god, Winter, really? This is club business. She is only going to make this worse than it is. What is she even doing listening in through the door? She knows better than that. All the women do.
“Don’t you fucking start your shit with me, Angel. You haven’t seen mad until you’ve seen me like this,” Prez spits out as he paces back and forth.
The door splinters open, revealing a seething Winter holding a gun straight at our Prez. She kicked the door right open. Gunfire crackles through the air as the door splinters open. A furious Winter stalks in, her gun pointing straight at our Prez. Groans sound out around the table. The pregnancy hormones Prez constantly refers to are clearly controlling Winter’s thinking.
“Everyone… get the fuck out. I demand to speak to my husband!”
None of us moves, and she fires off a round into the wall behind my head.
I lower myself in my chair.
Sniper curses as he jumps up from his chair and positions himself in front of our Prez. His Sergeant-at-Arms patch brings him smack dab in the middle of the couple’s argument.
“Please, don’t make me clip you in the knees, Winter. You’re carrying my niece or nephew,” Sniper pleads as his body covers the Prez. “You know, as soon as the sound of wood splitting echoed into this room, I’ve had this gun trained on you.”
***
Chapter Eight
Shadow
I didn’t sleep for shit last night. Tatiana’s words kept playing over and over in my head. I said my shit all wrong. I didn’t mean to make her upset. Fuck, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I was trying to sweep the shit under the rug so we both could go back to normal. I didn’t think, for one second, it would go down like that.
Due to my lack of sleep, I’m off my game, so I ask the Prez if I could trade places with ZZ, and stay here on watch. With my head clouded and confused, there is no way I will be able to focus in that meeting with the Chinese. I might miss the smallest movements, and in doing so, cost one of my brothers their life if that shit goes down the wrong way.
When he agrees, I’m thankful I am able to hang back with the others. We don’t speak as our ladies rumble between our legs. We wait patiently while the others are inside.
After a few minutes, I’m confident I made the right call because all my focus circles right back to the conversation with Tatiana. It screeches in my mind like the needle on a broken vinyl record. Each way it plays reminds me how bad I fucked up that shit. There is no doubt in my mind that it will take an endless amount of time for her to forgive me. End being the key word, because I believe that she’ll never forgive me for this. I think about what a life without her friendship will be like, and all I come up with is empty, blank, and meaningless. Those three words don’t sit well with me.
Fuck!
I’m empty enough. I have no desire to become a bottomless pit, and that is what will happen if I don’t fix this as soon as possible. She’s truly my only real friend. She may not know much, but she knows more than the others do, because she is the only person who can look through the black.
She can see past it.
The sound of roaring motorcycles brings me back from my thoughts. We all breathe a long sigh. I don’t think anyone was ready to turn things red today. The brothers are sick and tired of bloodshed. We’ve had enough of it to last two lifetimes.
But when the Prez roars past us, nodding in the direction of home, he looks none-too-pleased with the outcome of the situation. As soon as they’ve all sped by, the rest of us pull out right behind them.
***
Once we park our bikes, we head straight to church. Sitting around the table, we wait patiently for our Prez, and when he enters the room, he slams the door, walks over to his chair, and kicks it so hard that it shatters once it hits the wall. We wait for him to calm. No one dares to speak. No one dares to make a sound. Hell, no one dares to make a move.
“Fuck,” he roars while fisting his hair. His face turns red with rip-roaring anger. “That motherfucker.”
Jesus Christ, it must have been bad, worse than what half of us think.
“I can’t believe I let her talk me into this fuckin’ shit.” His loud voice booms throughout the room.
Oh shit… he’s pissed, at not only the Chinese, but also his wife. I have no doubt that each one of us is thinking the same fucking thing. The club is going to be tense for a little while. When mom and dad can’t play nice, the kids aren’t happy.
“Her little control issue cost me 11.5 million fucking dollars. Goddamn, this is bullshit,” he rants, his fist clenching and unclenching.
Cost him? It cost the damn club. We’ve earned that shit. A thermometer is not needed to feel how hot it is in this room. The smell of anger from the fuming bodies is so thick in the room, I can almost taste it on my tongue. The amount of money we’re paying for this project has more than one of us blazing with rage.
“Never in my goddamn life have I bowed down like that.” He tilts his head to the ceiling and howls in anger.
I grab my face in my hands, shaking my head in disbelief. Not only did we lose a truckload of money, our Prez looked weak. This truly is a hard hit on the club, and he has every right to be as angry as he is.
“I’ll give you the fucking money, jackass,” Winter screams through the closed door.
Oh god, Winter, really? This is club business. She is only going to make this worse than it is. What is she even doing listening in through the door? She knows better than that. All the women do.
“Don’t you fucking start your shit with me, Angel. You haven’t seen mad until you’ve seen me like this,” Prez spits out as he paces back and forth.
The door splinters open, revealing a seething Winter holding a gun straight at our Prez. She kicked the door right open. Gunfire crackles through the air as the door splinters open. A furious Winter stalks in, her gun pointing straight at our Prez. Groans sound out around the table. The pregnancy hormones Prez constantly refers to are clearly controlling Winter’s thinking.
“Everyone… get the fuck out. I demand to speak to my husband!”
None of us moves, and she fires off a round into the wall behind my head.
I lower myself in my chair.
Sniper curses as he jumps up from his chair and positions himself in front of our Prez. His Sergeant-at-Arms patch brings him smack dab in the middle of the couple’s argument.
“Please, don’t make me clip you in the knees, Winter. You’re carrying my niece or nephew,” Sniper pleads as his body covers the Prez. “You know, as soon as the sound of wood splitting echoed into this room, I’ve had this gun trained on you.”
