“Why should I when I already know what you’re going to say? Mom’s obviously asked you to talk to me, so I can guess why you’re here. You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t have hotwired a car. That I shouldn’t have crashed it—”
Mace snorts. “You shouldn’t have gotten caught, and before you steal a car, you should learn to fuckin’ drive.”
As a dollar slams down, my lips curve. Cas is going to have his new game in record time.
Cas, though, is stunned. “Who are you?” he says at last, almost in a whisper.
“Name’s Mace. I’m the enforcer for the Satan’s Devils MC.”
My feet now under my control, I walk further into the room so I can see my son’s expressions. He’s looking confused.
And disbelieving. “Where’s your cut and motorcycle?”
“I came in my truck for reasons I’ll tell you soon. And even if I was on my bike, I’m based out of Pueblo. Wearing my cut out of area is disrespectful unless it’s been cleared that I can fly my colours in your town. Respect is a code that I live by. You give me respect, I give it back. Disrespect me or mine? Then you’ll soon wish you hadn’t.”
I may not agree with everything Mace is saying, especially when he essentially told my son hotwiring a car wasn’t wrong but that getting caught was, but this conversation is exactly what my son needs. Getting told what’s what by a man. A man who’s demanding respect.
I’ve tried, but I’m Mom.
Suddenly Cas grins and asks hopefully, “You gonna show me how to drive?”
“Nope,” Mace replies, popping the p. “Not if you’re going to steal cars. Something you shouldn’t do, or only when absolutely necessary. You know who you stole that car from?” When Cas shrugs, Mace continues, “What if they had a sick kid, or a sick ma or pa? What if a friend called, needed his or her help urgently? What if they couldn’t work as they had no transportation? What was your need, Cas? Was your need greater than theirs?”
Another shrug, but this one not quite so certain.
“What was your need?” Mace asks again.
A pause then, a defeated, “I was bored. Just wanted to see if I could do it.”
“Happy to teach you how to hotwire most models of cars, Cas, but only if you promise to only ever use those skills when it’s life or death. Deal?”
Well I’ll be damned. As Mace steps forward holding out his hand, Cas steps forward and shakes it. “Deal.”
“Few things for you to agree to, Cas, if you’re going to be my friend. You never, ever take a man’s ride. You never even touch a man’s bike without permission. You never put your hands on another man’s cut, even to move it so you can sit down. You understand?”
Cas nods. He looks serious, taking it all in, but curious as well, not understanding why Mace is telling him this.
Mace raises his chin and then jerks it in my direction. “You, me and your mom are driving back to Pueblo soon as you’re packed. You’re staying the weekend on the Satan’s Devils’ compound. I’ll show you the bikes, take you on the back of mine if your mom’s agreeable.”
“What?” Cas looks to me, his eyes shining. “This for real, Mom?”
I look toward Mace. Cas hasn’t put two and two together yet. Not surprising, I hadn’t told him Lizard is a biker.
Mace points to the dining table and the four chairs that came with it. It was a thrift-shop find, but I sanded then varnished it so it doesn’t look bad.
“Let’s sit down. Gotta explain some things to you.”
Without argument, my son sits. Mace goes to the chair opposite him, I take the seat in between.
Mace clasps his hands on the table, looks down, then directly at Cas. “How old are you, kid?”
“Fourteen.”
“Fourteen,” Mace repeats. “Grown out of a boy, but not quite into a man. Though I suspect you’ve been the man of the house for a very long time.”
“Since… I was born.” Cas substitutes the last for since Dad left remembering Mace’s initial introduction.
“So I’m going to speak to you as an adult, and I expect you to consider things without simply dismissing them.”
Cas’s chin lifts then falls.
“So, Cas. You gonna listen without fuckin’ interrupting?”
Instead of answering, Cas nods toward Mace and tilts his head to the side. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Mace extracts another dollar and puts it on the growing pile behind him. I wink at Cas, and he…? He winks back.
“Right. Here’s the thing. I said your dad was my friend, he’s more than that. He’s my brother. Not by blood, by choice. He’s a member of our club. All the members are my brothers.”
Cas has gone tense with just the mention of Lizard. He glances at me, then back to Mace.
Mace’s face darkens as Cas opens his mouth, and he says fast, “I said, hear me out.” He waits for Cas to relax before he continues, “Your dad got a serious brain injury, you know that? Well, I did and I didn’t. Only just learned how bad it was. The man I know is good, brave, would give his life and all he owns to the people he loves.”
“He doesn’t love us,” Cas spits out, a wealth of emotion in his voice.
“He doesn’t know you, Cas. He doesn’t know your mom either. He knows us. You know how to become a member of a motorcycle club? No? Well, you need to prospect for a year or more. For that time, you do all the… bum jobs. You clean up shit, puke; you wash bikes. If a member asks you to clean the heads with your toothbrush, you snap to it and do it with a smile on your face. If you do that, you earn the club’s trust. When we know you’ll do absolutely anything, you’re patched into the club.”
“Do you kill people?”
Mace glances at me, then back at Cas. “I won’t lie and I ain’t going to admit it.”
Again, Cas glances at me to see how I’m taking it, but I keep my face impassive. If Mace gets through to my son, I don’t care how he does it.
Mace takes up his thread once again. “Lizard prospected for us, earned our trust and his patch. Became a brother. We judged him for the person he presented to us, not because of anything he’d done in the past. Yeah, he loves us, and we love him back, but it’s been earned, not gained just because we wear the same colours on our backs.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t have to love me because I’m his son?”
“Nope. I’m saying he doesn’t love you because he doesn’t know who you are. He did, before his injury, but kid, that fucked with his head. Way I see it is, if two hangarounds, that’s wannabe members, walked into our club and said they wanted to join up but not prospect, we’d laugh ourselves sick. That’s not the way this works. I expect you already know there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Lizard can’t remember being married, he can’t remember having a wife. He can’t remember fuckin’—that’s a verb not swearing—your mom, nor putting you inside her. He can’t remember you being born or any of that shit. You turning up expecting him to have a come-to-Jesus moment and suddenly fall in love ain’t going to happen. Because he doesn’t know who you are.”