Page 2 of Big Easy
Jogging up a spiral staircase, I head for my loft.
My apartment is an open concept, combining both my living room and kitchen area.
Much like the shop, I have black walls painted throughout.
An oversized grey sectional sits in front of a flat-screen TV.
My kitchen cabinets are a deep shade of blue accented by dark grey countertops.
The best part of my home is, by far, the view.
Striding across the room, I slide open the doors that fold together, opening the entire glass wall to the balcony outside.
Living so close to the river feels like being back home in New Orleans.
Being from the Crescent City is also how I got my road name. Besides Prez, my brothers call me Big Easy. My uncle used to call me by the nickname growing up, and it stuck with me ever since.
In the distance, I hear the rumble of Harleys. Seconds later, I notice a couple of my brothers, one with his old lady on the back of his bike, rounding the stop sign at the end of the street. Knowing they will let themselves in, I head for my room, enter the bathroom and grab a quick shower.
Thirty minutes later, I'm dressed in my usual black boots, black jeans, a grey shirt, and leather cut. Descending the stairs, I find my men Grim and Slider organizing their stations. "How's it goin', Prez?" Grim, the club's Enforcer, looks up from his sketch pad.
"Can't complain." I head for my work area toward the back of the shop. "Rylee, what's my schedule look like today?" I call out. Rylee is Grim's old lady and also our receptionist/shop assistant.
"You have four clients coming in today. Your last session is with Ryker to finish up his back piece," Rylee says from behind the counter where she's looking at the computer screen.
"Make sure our schedules are clear around lunchtime tomorrow, would ya? We need to make an appearance down at the hospital for the charity event."
"Already taken care of, Boss."
The bell over the entrance chimes as my VP, and our shop manager, Brewer, walks inside. "Prez." His tone grabs my attention. "We have a situation."
"My office," I order, knowing he has something important to tell me. Slider, our Sergeant at Arms, leaves his station, along with Grim. Once in the other room with my men, Slider closes the door.
"Cameras down at the nightclub caught Cash accepting money from some suit before instructing Roxy to escort the bastard toward the back.
" We've suspected one of the girls may have been turning tricks on our time, but I didn't think one of our men would be pimping her out.
I cross my arms over my chest. "I decided to pay Roxy a visit this morning on the way in. "
I raise my brow. "And…"
"She answered the door with a black eye and busted lip, then spilled her guts, telling me everything.
Seems Cash has been holding some shit over her head for some time now.
Roxy admitted to having a drug addiction, which is starting to control her life.
Cash saw her weakness and has been feeding her hunger and having her repay her debt by making some of his business clients happy," Slider explains, and my anger grows.
"Did Cash give her the shiner and busted lip?" I ask.
"No, the suit did. Roxy also mentioned catching Cash on more than one occasion stealing money from the register behind the bar."
His words make my blood boil. You don't steal from the club.
"Have him brought in. Make sure he's kept uncomfortable for the day." My words sound cold and detached. "We'll deal with him tonight."
"You got it." Slider pulls a phone from his pocket and relays my orders to one of our men.
Several hours later, I'm working on my final client of the day, Ryker.
This is the last session being done on the massive back piece of a Viking warrior I've been working on for two months.
Ryker is a chef and part-time photographer.
Many of the photos hanging on my walls are of his handiwork.
"So, how's the old lady doin'?" I ask him, knowing their first child is due to be born any day now.
"Ready to have her body back," Ryker laughs. "Hell, if I have it my way, it won't be long before I have her knocked up again."
"Shit, brother." I chuckle. "What's the hurry?"
"You're kidding, right? Have you seen her? Devin is the most beautiful woman in the world, but even sexier when she's carrying a life we both created inside of her," Ryker says with conviction. "When the hell are you going to finally settle down?" he asks.
Keeping my hands steady, I finish the shadowing on the last section of the tattoo. "Marriage isn't for me."
"Who said anything about marriage? You can be committed to one person without signing legal papers."
"I like my life the way it is. No strings attached. I come and go as I please and answer to no one," I admit.
"Shit. You make it sound like a relationship is a prison, and love is a ball and chain wrapped around your neck."
Ignoring his words, I lay my tattoo machine on the table beside me, then douse his back with antiseptic, wiping his skin clean of blood and residual ink. Sliding my chair back, I admire my work for a moment. "Check it out," I announce.
Rising from the table, Ryker walks over to the mirrored wall and peers at the finished work of art. I've inked many people, but Ryker's backpiece is some of my best work to date.
"Holy shit." Ryker takes it in. "I have no words. It's a fucking masterpiece, my friend."
Almost an hour later, Ryker is gone, and I'm on my bike heading east toward Hades Outlaw Clubhouse, located in the building beside our nightclub.
When my uncle first chose the location years ago, it wasn't as developed as it is now.
Not bending to the pressure of selling his property, he stayed put as the city grew.
The community around us doesn't seem to mind either.
Being in plain sight, smack in the middle of everything, comes with its advantages.
Our presence is very much in your face, and we like to keep the riff-raff out of our territory, which, in turn, helps the people and business owners prosper.
Backing my bike up, I park beside the others.
Music from the nightclub filters out in the street as Bear, one of our members, checks IDs as he lets a group of young women through the front door.
Spotting me, he acknowledges my presence with a chin lift as I shove my keys into my back pocket and walk toward the clubhouse entrance.
Inside, I find Slider and Grim sitting at the bar, while Amber, one of three club girls, pours whiskey into their glasses. "Prez." Grim downs his shot.
"Grim," I greet him as I pass by on my way to the basement. Hearing their barstools slide against the wood floor, I know my men follow close behind. Bite, our Road Captain is leaning back in a chair, outside the basement door, staring at his phone when we round the corner.
"Prez," he says as he stands.
"Where's Brewer?" I ask.
"Downstairs with Cash." He smirks and swings open the door.
The old wood steps creek beneath our weight as we descend into the dimly lit room. Brewer sits near the walk-in freezer unit at the far end of the basement. He strikes a match, lighting the cigarette between his fingers. "What did you find out?" I ask.
"He's not talkin'," Brewer replies.
"Open the door," I order, and he pulls the thick metal door ajar, revealing Cash, stripped of his clothes, with his hands bound above his head as he hangs from the ceiling like a cold cut of beef.
Cash raises his head, his eyes full of fear. "I hear you've been makin' money off of my girl Roxy,'' I say as I circle his body.
"Shit, Big Easy." His teeth chatter. "She owed me money. I supply her with her fix, and she turns tricks."
"She says you've been stealin' money from the register too.
Any truth to that?" His eyes widen, the truth shines in his eyes, but before he opens his mouth to spit lies at me, I warn him, "Now, you've had hours to think about how this day was going to end.
And believe me when I say it only ends one way.
How that happens is up to you, so man the fuck up.
" I stop pacing and face him. "If you lie, your death will be slow. "
"It's true. I fucked up, man. I swear to God I won't steal from you again. Have mercy—please," he pleads, but his words fall on deaf ears.
Reaching into my cut, I pull my weapon, and, without hesitating, pull the trigger.