Chapter Twenty-Three
Star
As soon as we make it back to the clubhouse, the men pull out cases of beer and us women hit the kitchen. Needing to keep my hands busy, I pull out a twenty-pound bag of potatoes and begin peeling them. We’re making enough food to feed a damn army, but we know that many people will be here to help us with Zero’s final send off.
According to Shamus, there will be a ceremony done in his memory. Women can’t be present for all of it, basically, as soon as the food has been consumed, they’ll head outdoors and we’ll stay inside. I’m both emotionally and physically exhausted from the day. Laying a man to ground is one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced. It’s the first funeral I’ve ever attended, and whereas I know it won’t be the last one in my life, I pray that it’s a long damn time before any of us go through that again.
The smell permeating the air from the two large briskets, the homemade mashed potatoes and sides reminds my stomach that I haven’t eaten today. It rumbles loud enough to garner the other women’s attention. None of us ate breakfast this morning with the kids and men, we were just too damn heartbroken to think about food.
“We could make ourselves a small plate while cooking,” Cameron advises us.
“I’ll wait to eat with Kruger,” Stella answers to which I nod my head, agreeing with her. I too wanna eat with my old man and the brothers.
We spend the next two hours making the perfect spread for everyone.
Once I go out in the main room to announce that food is ready, the guys are pretty close to being three sheets to the wind. Ma is in Pops’ lap; they’re passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth. Ma has no life in her eyes, she’s a ghost of the woman that I met a few weeks back.
As I’m contemplating how I can help the matriarch of this family, I feel strong arms band around my middle. “It’s just gonna take some time, baby,” Shamus says, and the smell of liquor and cigarettes invades me.
“I’m just worried about everyone,” I tell him.
“Perfect, you are absolutely perfect,” Shamus whispers.
“We’re going to get through this,” I say with conviction.
“Fuck yeah, we will,” he says as he places a small, chaste kiss to the nape of my neck.
“It’s time to eat,” I inform him.
He lifts his head from its previous position and hollers out, “Chow time!”
Everyone in the room cheers and it’s as if the room has suddenly come alive.
I guess it’s true what they say; the way to a man’s heart is through his belly.
Shamus
Dinner was good, my stomach is full and tonight, we’ll be doing a final farewell to our brother. But it’s going to be in a much different way than what we’d typically do. We’ll be sacrificing the man who took his life in his honor.
As we get up, ready to head out of the dining room, I look over to Zero’s place at the table. His cut is sprawled around the back of his chair, an opened beer can, his favorite brew, was set on the table in front of his chair in tribute to him.
Normally, at this time of events, we’d head outside, crank up the stereo and start up a bonfire. We’d say good things about him, share stories about how he enhanced our life, but the way he died was anything but natural.
My hands are aching to be planted into Gray’s skin. My teeth are on edge, revenge has been put off for far too damn long. The women think that us men are heading out for some male bonding time, but in reality, we’re going down into the basement. We’ll go in through the back way, there’s a door that can gain us entrance from the back of the clubhouse.
While the women were busy in the kitchen, we got ourselves a spare change of clothes and placed them in a bag outside of the door. None of them have a clue that Gray’s been a visitor down there all this time, just how we wanted it. They would’ve been paranoid and worried the entire time if they’d had an inkling of a clue. And these women have been through e-fucking-nough as it is.
My blood is pumping as we make our way down the dark stairwell.
“Graa-ay,” Master draws out his name in a joyful tone as we get our feet firmly planted on the cement slab. “We’re here to play, I hope you’re ready.” All of us men find this amusing and begin a round of cackling and high fiving one another.
Gray’s head pops up from its slumped position. When he takes in the joyous expressions on all of our faces, his eyes widen and the pleading begins.
I promise this, I promise that.
Yada-yada-yada.
“You want an easy, quick death?” Gunner asks him. “Tell us where the fuck to find Jeremiah, if you don’t, if you won’t cooperate, we’ll make you suffer in ways you’ve never imagined.”
Oh, that’s gonna happen either way. After what he put Jessia through alone has earned him a beat down, but the fact that he helped keep my woman held prisoner for years, he’s going to suffer an insurmountable amount of pain. But, I guess we’re keeping that key detail hush-hush for now. At least until we know if he’s gonna spill the beans on his friend’s whereabouts.
We know Jeremiah been keeping his distance from the club, he hasn’t been home, and he hasn’t kept in contact with his employees. Sandy calls us daily for a check-in, and he’s not seen hide nor hair of him.
It doesn’t matter if it’s tomorrow, the day after, next month or next year, we will find him, and we
