Rod (28 page)

“Wouldn’t it be unfair to exclude him?”
she asks.

“Yeah, you’re right.
 
He might look at it like he’s not trusted.”

“Alright, then he’s in.
 
Anyone else we should look at?”

“I think this is good just the way it is,”
I tell her as I slide the calendar over to her.

“Good, I’ll be right back.
 
I’m
gonna
show this
to my dad and see if he agrees.”

“Okay, I’ll wait right here.”

I sit there in silence drinking a beer
when I feel the pangs of hunger in my stomach.

Moments pass and she returns to the stool
from whence she came.

“He loved it.
 
He said I could put it into effect at our
next meeting,” she says.

“When’s that?”

“Next Thursday,” she says in response.

“Oh, okay,” I tell her.
 
My stomach begins rumbling all over again.

“Is there something wrong?” she asks.

“Nope, my stomach is telling me that it’s
dinner time, though.”

“
Wanna
get out
of here and grab a bite to eat?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

We walk out of the club and she offers to
take us since I have been drinking for the bigger part of the day.
 
We haul ass to the Corkscrew where we sit at
the bar and order food.
 
She orders up a
well-done cheeseburger with some French fries and I order steak and eggs.

“This isn’t breakfast time, weirdo,” she
jokes.

“I love steak and eggs,” I say in my own
defense.

“I’m just
messin
’
with
ya
,” she tells me.

We get our drinks and sit back to wait for
our food to be placed in front of us.
 
I
feel as hungry as a hostage and I yawn.

“Do you think that’s the last time you’ll
hear from your dad?” she asks.

“My guess is no,” I tell her.

“That sucks.
 
Do you think he’ll stop at nothing to get his
way?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” I say.

“I hope he leaves you alone and lets you
live,” she says.

“One can only hope.”

Waiting for twenty minutes causes my
stomach to rumble furiously.
 
Before I
can ask about our food, the waitress slides it in front of us, apologizing for
the wait.

“It’s no biggie,” Trish reassures her.

The waitress offers us a smile and then
heads out to the floor to tend to her tables.

Our food disappears after ten minutes goes
by and I rub my stomach and tell her how full I feel.
 

“I feel like a walrus,” I joke.

“You’re going to be just fine,” she
assures me.

I whip out my wallet and pay our tab,
leaving a nice tip for our waitress.
 
We
walk out of there and I realize that my bike is sitting at the Lair.
 

“Let’s head back to the Lair so I can get
my bike and then we can do whatever,” I tell her.

“Alright, get on,” she commands me.
 

“You know how I love it when you take
charge,” I say.

She grins and we put our helmets on.
 
She speeds off with me on the back of her
back and we take the winding dirt roads back to the club.
 

I hop off of her bike and see mine sitting
there by Ronan’s exquisite piece of machinery.

“Your dad is still here,” I tell her.

“I see that.
 
I should go in and talk to him.
 
You can go ahead and head home if you want,”
she tells me.

“Alright, but I’ll see you in the morning
bright and early to run Sasha to school.”

“Sounds good.
 
I’ll see you in the morning.”

She plants a wet kiss on my lips and I
long for more.
 
She disappears inside of
the Lair and I get on my motorcycle to head home.

A week passes before my phone rings with
another call from my father.
 
The usual
recording plays, asking me to press one on the keypad to accept the call, but
to hang up to decline it.
 
I consider
declining it, but decide to see what he wants.

“Yeah?” I ask into the phone.

“Rodney, is that you?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s me.
 
What do you want this time?” I say with an
annoyed tone in my voice.

“That’s an awfully rude attitude toward
the man who raised you to be the man you are today,” he chides me.
 

“Yeah, you raised me by showing me what
not to do.
 
Now what do you want?”

“That’s harsh, son,” he says as his raspy
voice seems to echo in the phone.

“What is it?
 
I don’t have all day,” I remark unkindly.

“I wanted to see if there was any way that
you would change your mind.
 
I could make
it worth your while.”

“Are you really trying to offer me money
to help you?”

“Well you are my son.
 
It would be beneficial for the both of us if I
didn’t have to sit here in prison,” he tells me with a hoarse voice.

“Stop asking, old man,” I tell him.
 
“I will not go to bat for you.”

“Fuck,” he says as the line goes dead.

I sit there wondering what kind of defense
he’s going to mount in the kidnapping case.
 
I know there are people in his motorcycle club that will speak up on his
behalf, but he pesters me relentlessly.

As another week passes, the court dates
draws closer.
 
Instead of calling me
directly, my father has taken to leaving the question of helping him to his
lawyer.
 
Mr.
Greanleaf
,
a noted legal eagle, calls me up constantly berating me for not helping my
father in his time of need.
 
He assures
me that my father’s appreciation will not go unnoticed.
 
I fend off his questions and pleas for help,
but it frustrates me to no end that he pushes me about it.

An unknown number graces the caller ID and
I quickly answer it and say, “Listen, stop calling me, asshole.
 
I will not help him!”

“Hello?”
 
man
on the other end says quietly.

“Hello?” I reiterate his question.

“Is this Rodney Vinton?” he asks.

“Yeah, and who is this?”

“This is Harry Fletcher.
 
I know you probably don’t want to hear from
me, but I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Hear from you?
 
I don’t even know who the hell you are,” I
exclaim.

“I’ve been one of the
Deathdealers
,
but like you, never liked the criminal element,” he explains.

“Which one are you?” I ask him.

“Harry Fletcher,” he tells me again.

“No, I mean what do you look like?”

“I’m a taller guy with red hair and a
matching beard,” he says describing himself.
 
“Black glasses and the combat boots.”

“Oh yeah, Red, I know you,” I tell him.

“Yeah, I probably should’ve said that
first, huh?”

“So, what’s going on in your neck of the
woods?” I ask him.

“Things have really been shaken up since
your father was put in prison.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s like chaos over there.
 
I was thinking that we could meet up to talk
about it,” he tells me.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I was asked by some senior members who
are also like us, to reach out to you for some direction,” he says.

“Direction?” I say in complete disbelief.

“Yeah.
 
They said that it would prove to be beneficial for all of us.
 
We could get a truce in place.”

“A truce, huh?”

“If you want, we can meet in a neutral
place like Hinton Heights?”

“Sure, Hinton Heights sounds good.
 
When?” I ask.

“How does tomorrow at two sound?

“Sounds good.
 
Where at?” I inquire.

“This little place on Sunrise Boulevard
called Black’s Deli,” he tells me.

“Sounds like a plan.
 
See you then, and no funny business.”

“Later Rod,” he says as he disconnects the
call.

I ponder for a moment that it could be a
setup by my father from his prison cell, but I decide to risk it.
 

I let the hours pass as I wait for the new
day to be upon me.
 
Fulfilling all of my
daily obligations to Trish and the club, I lay my head down and drift off to
sleep.

The next morning, I fix myself some
breakfast and decide whether or not I should talk to Ronan or get some backup
for my meeting with Red.
 
I decide
against it, remembering that Red is a puny dude that I could easily take out.

At one thirty in the afternoon, I walk
outside and hop on my motorcycle.
 
I put
my helmet on and race off to Hinton Heights for our meeting.

Once I arrive at Black’s Deli, I park my
bike out front in the bike lane and walk around to the back.
 
I check around for any other bikes that could
belong to any of the
Deathdealers
.
 
I see one bike out back and guess that it
probably belongs to Red.

I walk back to the front and inside the
place.
 
Inside, a giant red-haired man
sits at a table by himself.
 
He waves me
over and I pace myself as I make my way to him.

“If this is a trap, I’ll fuck you up,” I
tell him.

“Relax, it’s not a trap,” he says.

“Alright,” I say as I take the seat
opposite Red.
 
He appears furry and unkempt,
but I don’t question his grooming habits.
 
Instead, we get right down to business.

“So, what’s going on?” I ask.

“The
Deathdealers
have been thrown into disarray ever since your father was put in prison,” he
says.

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, it’s insane.
 
Some of the criminals in the club are trying
to establish their dominance in the club, but they end up fighting each
other.
 
One guy got stabbed last week.”

“Okay.
 
I’m still not sure why you’re telling me all of this,” I say.

“Needless to say, while there are some
people who are happy to see your father in prison, there are others that don’t
feel the same way.
 
It’s a sort of civil
unrest, if you will.”

“Alright.”

“We need some sort of leadership,” he
says.

“I don’t understand.”

“We need someone that everyone will
follow.”

“Then hold an election like the rest of
us,” I instruct him.

“The senior members all said that they
would listen to the son of Seth Vinton,” he tells me.

“Yeah, but my father and I aren’t the same
person.
 
We’re not even close.”

“They don’t care about that.
 
They claim loyalty to you solely based on the
fact that you’re Seth Vinton’s kin.”

“What a mess,” I tell him.

“Yeah, but you can see now why we need
you.”

“I’m not getting involved in that shit,” I
say without hesitation.

“You should give it some thought.”

“I don’t want any part of the criminal
behavior that goes down in the
Deathdealers
.
 
I thought you knew that.”

“Those guys would follow you to the moon
and back,” he says.

“Ever since I first laid eyes on that
club, I didn’t want any part of it.
 
Guess what? I still don’t.
 
It was
trouble, but my father forced me to become a member against my will.
 
Still, I was always looking for a way out.”

“Now you can shape it to be anything you
want it to be,” Red tells me.
 
“I’m not
the only one that wants you on the inside.”

“I just don’t see it happening, Red,
sorry,” I tell him as I move to get up from the table.

“Please sit, there’s just one more thing,”
he remarks.

“Yeah?”

“If we can’t get under your leadership, do
you at least think that the Dragons would be willing to call a truce with us?”