Night Sky (Satan's Sinners MC Book 3) (20 page)

They said their vows and exchanged rings, then kissed and all that jazz. Now, it's time to fuckin' party and I'm getting antsy. I take Ever's arm and walk her back down the aisle as I can feel my body start to shake. I feel her eyes on me, but I ignore it. I just have to make it to my room.

I let her go and walk into the clubhouse, into my room. In my dresser, I get my pills out and pop some into my mouth, then go into the bathroom to wash down the mouthful of pills.

I go back out to the bar, where everyone is starting to crowd around it. I get my Jack and Coke ordered, then look around. Soon, the high starts coming to me and my vision gets hazy. I love this feeling of being relaxed and not a care in the world.

I find Ever with Crazy Girl where people are starting to dance so I walk over to them and she lets Ever know I am coming. When I get to them, Ever turns around facing me and I sign,
Let's go talk.

They both give me a sympathetic look,
Not right now, Writer.

Yes, right now. We need to talk so let's go do it.

What's wrong with you?
Ever asks, sympathetic turning to dumbfounded.

Nothing is fuckin' wrong with me.

We are not doing this now.

You know, I am real sick of you making all the fuckin' decisions. It's about time I start making some.
My anger starts to take over.

Are you high?
she asks, while looking around the room.

So fuckin' what if I am?
I grab ahold of her arm to pull her away from the party when someone taps mine. I turn, seeing that it is Hanger.

Not now, brother.
He tries using that demanding way with me while shaking his head. Hanger grabs my arm trying to pull me away.

I shake him off,
Let me go Hanger, this doesn't concern you.

The fuck if it don't. That is my sister now and this is our wedding.
He points to Crazy Girl.
You need to handle this shit at a different time.

Fuck it!

I storm out of the clubhouse, pull my keys out of my pocket, slam my helmet on my head, and start up my Harley.

I get out of the gate and head towards the highway. I'm only about ten minutes away when my vision starts to blur. Everything around me becomes double. I can't feel my hands or my feet, then the rest of my body feels numb. My bike starts weaving from one side of the road to the other.

I start losing control of my bike and I feel it swerving in more jerky movements. I hit the cold gravel road still attached to my bike. It's sliding across the road. I can't find where to turn it off. Fuck, I can't feel or see anything. The gravel from the road cuts into my skin through the tux and the skidding is burning my body. Finally it stops. Everything fuckin' stops.

For the first time since I was twelve, I use my voice to scream out “Ever.” I don't know if I will survive this. Suddenly my life and my fuckups flash before my eyes before everything goes black.

WRITER

PAST

★★★

I just got home from school and I open the door to walk into my house. My father is standing, waiting and angry. I didn't do anything that I can remember, but with my father, he doesn't need reason to unleash his fury on me. “You gonna tell me what the fuck you did, boy?” His fists clench at his sides, the veins in his neck bulge.

“I didn't do anything, Dad.” His face is red, eyes narrow to slits.

“Don't you fucking lie to me. If you didn't do a goddamn thing, then those assholes from your school wouldn't have been here.” My face pales. I didn't say anything, I have tried to keep them away from here.

“I didn't say anything, I swear.” The first punch comes across my cheek, knocking me to the dirty wooden floor.

“You gonna be a little pussy bitch? You gonna go tell them high mighty fuckers you ain't being taken care of?” The kick lands in my stomach, causing me to scoot across the room. I cough and hold my abdomen tight, trying to relieve some of the pain.

“I didn't do anything!” I scream out as the pain becomes almost unbearable. It's only gonna get worse from here. I know better than to say anything, but it looks like I'm going to take a beating for it anyway.

“Then why were they here? You're a worthless fuck and I don't know why your momma wants to keep you around. I woulda got rid of your ass along time ago if it wasn't for her.” The blows rain down on my body as his grunts thunder in my ears.

I don't make a sound. I won't give my father the satisfaction of hearing my cries. I let him wear himself out and when his breath becomes heavy, sweat beads on his forehead and nose, he finally stops. The sweat from his face and hair drips down onto my busted open and bloody face as he gets off of me.

“You go in that school tomorrow and find out why they were here. You make them not come back,” he says between quick breaths. He walks off, leaving me bloody and broken on the floor.

Splinters dig into my skin and I look down at my dirty clothes that I have had to wear all week. I have holes in my shoes from being worn out and they are a couple of sizes too small. Even my eight year old self knows that they probably came to check on my well being. I guess I'll be telling them I got into another fight with a neighborhood kid.

HANGER

Hanger, what just happened? Is Writer going to be okay?
I watch as Ever signs to me and the part I hate is I don't have a fuckin' answer for her.

Truth?

Always.

Writer got high after the wedding. He can be fuckin' mean sometimes when he is on shit. I am stepping in now, and I promise I will do everything I fuckin' can to straighten his ass out.
I give Ever the only thing I can right now and it tears me apart to look into her water filled eyes. I see how scared she is and she has a right to be. Who knows what the fuck will happen now?

I love all my brothers, but next to Gunner, Writer is the most important to me. Bulk brought him here when he was in a bad way and we took care of him. I haven't done a good job lately and it’s about time I step up before he kills himself. I gave him chance after chance to clean up, so now it's time for me to make him. I walk away from the girls and find Pretty Boy at a table with Shug on his lap.

“Prospect, go after Writer. Make sure he's alright and get his ass back here.”

“What the fuck happened now?”

“Not your concern, just go.” He picks Shug up off of his lap and she sits in the chair next to him. Then he rushes out the door and I hope like hell Pretty Boy can catch up to him.

I don't know what to do for Writer anymore. He's run out of chances with me and this club. How he just acted towards Ever here at the reception is the last fuckin' straw. We can't sit around and let this shit go on any longer. I told him not to fuck this day up for Crazy Girl, but just like always, he thinks about himself. He's fuckin' addicted, whether he wants to admit it or not.

I walk back over to Crazy Girl. “Babe, I'm sorry but we have to clear this place out.”

“What are you going to do, Hanger?”

“Don't worry, I'm gonna handle it.” I know that was probably the wrong shit to say to her, but I can't have her worry about this.

My Ol' Lady's hand goes on her hip, face gets stern, and her finger goes into my chest.

“Don't tell me not to worry, Hanger. I'm already fucking worried and now you want to clear it out because you don't want people to see what's going to happen.”

“Christ Babe, I'm not gonna kill him, so calm the fuck down and lower your voice. This is club business though, so everyone needs to get the fuck out.” I grab Crazy Girl's wrist, pulling her into me and give her a kiss on the top of her head.

I walk over to the sound system and cut the music. All heads turn towards me. “I'm sorry everyone, but we have to cut the party short. Thank you for coming to celebrate today with us and being here for the wedding, but you gotta go now.” I watch as people start making their way out the door when I get a call on my phone. I look to see that it's Pretty Boy.

“Yeah.”

“Prez! You gotta get here now! We are on the turn off to head towards the highway!” He's talking so fast I can barely make out what he is saying.

“Pretty Boy, calm the fuck down. What happened?”

“It's Writer, he wrecked Hanger! Get here quick, the turn off towards the highway.” I hang up immediately.

Fuckin' Hell!

I run back over to Crazy Girl. “Get the kids and Ever, then get the fuck outta here.”

“Why Hanger?” She is frantic now, her eyes are wide and filling with tears.

“Just do it, Goddamnit!”

“Hanger.” I can see the fear in her eyes and I feel like shit. I don't talk to her like this.

“I'm sorry, Babe. I'll explain later, I promise, just please listen to me and get your sister and the kids out of here.” I give her a quick kiss on the lips before I go get Bear. We get in my truck and take off. Thank fuck I keep an extra set of keys in here.

It only takes me ten minutes to find them. I see Pretty Boy sitting beside a still Writer lying on the ground. We jump out of the truck and run over to them. “Did you check his pulse?”

“Yeah. He's alive but he's unresponsive.”

“It looks like his bike is trashed,” Bear says when he comes over to us. “Fuck, brother what happened?”

“He started swerving and lost control,” Pretty Boy tells us.

“Alright, let's get his bike in the back of the truck. Then we will get him.” We walk over, I let down the tailgate, and it takes the three of us to lift it up onto the bed. Once his bike is scooted in and the tailgate is back in place, we go back over to Writer.

I start telling them the easiest way for us to get Writer with the least chance of hurting him. "We have to be careful or we could hurt him worse. Bear, you grab his top half. Pretty Boy, you need to slide your arms under his back and support his middle. I got his legs. On the count of three, we pick him up and move in slow steps. Move him as little as possible, got it?”

“Got it,” they both reply in unison.

We do just what I said. We start walking in nice, easy and careful steps. Bear left his side of the truck along with the back door open so we slide him into my backseat. I shut the door and tell Pretty Boy to follow us back. When I get into the driver's seat, I tell Bear to get on the phone with Jacey.

“That's not a good idea, Hanger.”

“Why the fuck not?” I look at him like he's lost his mind, we need a real doctor, not just Doc.

“Because you know my wife. She will tell the girls.”

“Fuck, that's true.” It makes sense now, shit. “Doc is good with stitches and babies, but who can we get to look him over completely? Make sure Writer isn’t bleeding on the inside or some shit?”

“I know someone.” Bear gets on his phone, making the call and telling the person to meet us at the club, and to bring the ultrasound machine.

We make the ten minute drive back and when we are through the gate and parked, we pull him gently from the backseat of my truck and head inside the clubhouse. We ignore all the looks and hollers from the rest of our brothers. I yell out, “Doc, c'mon! We need you,” as we keep taking gentle, calculated steps to get Writer into his room.