Otis (15 page)

“To the Sinners,” Sydney said as she raised her glass of tea, “Never a dull moment.”

“To the Sinners,” Avery said as she raised her glass.

I glanced down at my glass. With blurred vision and an unsteady hand, I picked it up and somehow raised it to the toast. As our glasses clanked together, I burped, sloshed half my drink onto the table, and said my own toast.

“To the Sinners, and to being stuffed full of so much dick that it hurts to sit down,” I giggled, “and to getting standing ovations, and cleaning up the quart of cum with Otis’ no-shows.”

“Otis wears no-shows,” Avery laughed.

“He sure does, and gather ‘round, ladies. I’ve got a few stories to tell you about Otis,” I said as I raised my glass to my lips.

Yeah, I think we’re going to get along just fine, ladies.

I clanked my glass onto the table, sat back in my seat, and began to tell the story of the night Otis duct taped me naked to a tree while wearing a kilt.

Not because I felt a need to be competitive, but because I wanted to make sure they knew I was one of them.

An equal.

The Ol’ Lady of a Sinner.

OTIS

If the life of a Sinner had taught me nothing else, it taught me to always keep my guard up, regardless of the company I was keeping or the events surrounding me. When life seemed too good to be true, it was always time to glance over my shoulders and make sure of who or what was behind me. It wasn’t that I believed life wouldn’t offer me what was good, it was more my belief that the laws of average would always make sure to keep me in check by tossing me a shit sandwich from time to time.

The thing about a shit sandwich is this.

As soon as you bite into it, you know one thing for absolute certain.

You just bit into a shit sandwich.

“So both of you want to go in there with me?” Jack asked nervously.

“If you really think we need to,” Toad shrugged.

“Same as going to talk to the cops in the joint far as I’m concerned. You never go alone to talk to the man. Always go in pairs, that way nobody can start the
he said she said
shit. I just want witnesses,” Jack said as he peered into the shop.

“Sure, we’ll go,” I said as I stepped past him, “Come on.”

We walked to the office door together, and after making sure they were at my side, I knocked on it sharply.

Axton, obviously recognizing my knock, responded through the closed door, “Otis? Come on in.”

I pulled the door open slightly and peeked inside, “It’s the three of us, Slice. Toad and Jack are with me, got a minute?”

“Always, as far as you three fuckers are concerned. Come on in,” he responded as he closed the book in front of him.

“Come on,” I said as I waved my arm toward the two men.

I pulled a chair from the table and sat down, and Toad did the same. Jack began to nervously pace back and forth across the floor, staring down at his boots as he walked.

“You alright, Big Jack?” Axton asked as his eyes followed Jack’s steps.

“Be fine boss. Just thinking,” he said as he glanced up.

After walking back and forth a few more times, he stopped, pulled out a chair at the corner of the table, and sat down.

“Permission to speak candidly,” Jack sighed.

Axton glanced at me, shifted his eyes toward Toad, and eventually fixed his eyes on Jack.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Axton asked as he stood from his seat and crossed his arms.

Immediately, Jack stood from his seat.

“Sit down,” Axton snapped, “What the fuck’s going on here?”

Jack sat down, glanced down at his boots for a moment, and sighed.

“Sure, whatever. Speak freely,” Axton huffed.

“Think we’ve got a cop in the club, boss?” Jack said as he glanced up.

What the fuck?

“What the
fuck
are you talking about?” Axton bellowed.

Toad immediately stood and turned toward Jack.

“Sit the fuck down, Toad,” Axton demanded as he uncrossed his arms.

“There ain’t a cop patched in in
this
MC, I can guarantee you that much. Now what brought you in here? What happened?” Axton barked.

Jack stood from his seat, “Sorry, boss. I got to stand. Hear me out, okay?”

Axton nodded his head, “Fuck it, I guess you can walk. And I’m listening.”

As Jack paced the floor, he began to speak, “Well, when I was in the joint, we had cops that took us to the hole in the elevator when we got a write up. They had this special key, it looks like one of them round keys for a soda machine, but it’s about half inch longer. Elevator repairmen have ‘em too, but that’s about it. It lets you stick the key in the elevator, turn on an override, and make it go to the roof or the basement or whatever. Now when I was in court the first time, and the second time for that matter, I saw the same thing. The US Marshall and the ATF fellas that took me to court in the beginning, and again the other day, they both had ‘em. They had to put ‘em in the elevator to get down to the basement to their cars.”

Axton crossed his arms in front of his chest and inhaled a long slow breath as he waited for Jack to continue.

“There’s only a couple of elevator manufacturers,
Dover
and
Otis.
Most of the keys say one of those two names on ‘em. Kind of looks like a Harley key too, now that I think of it,” he said.

“God damn it, Big Jack, get to the point,” Axton growled.

Jack stopped pacing, turned to face Axton, and crossed his arms, “That fella they call Gunner, boss. He’s got one of them keys on his key ring. It says Dover on it for sure, I looked at it. And unless he’s repairing elevators on the side, he’s probably a fed or a prison guard.”

“I fucking knew it. Phony ass piece of lying shit. Motherfucker says he was in the shit, I never trusted his phony ass,” Toad blurted as he stood from his seat.

“God damn son of a motherfucking bitch,” Axton said as he turned toward the cabinets on the wall.

“Hell, he’s been here for years, he can’t be a cop. Who vouched him in the club?” Axton asked as he reached for the
Members
book.

“Don’t need the book, Slice. I can tell you who vouched him in,” I sighed.

“Who?” Axton asked as he turned around.

Simultaneously, Toad and I responded, “Hollywood.”

“Fuck!” Axton shouted as he kicked the table with the toe of his boot, almost knocking it over entirely.

He glared at Toad for a long moment, and then fixed his eyes on me. I sat silently, and attempted to think of why Gunner would need an elevator key. As I drew an absolute blank, Axton kicked the table again.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he screamed as he turned toward the door.

“Who’s that cock sucker run with?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. Axton turned to face Toad.

“Ran with ‘Wood. Well, till ‘Wood committed suicide,” Toad sighed.

“Fuck!” Axton yelled as he kicked the table again.

“You God damned one fucking hundred percent sure he’s got an elevator override key? One fucking hundred, not ninety-nine. You sure?” Axton asked as he turned toward Jack.

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t boss. Hundred percent,” Jack nodded.

“Fuck!” Axton shouted.

In an attempt to settle Axton down, I stood from my seat.

“Let’s talk about this, what are we going to do?” I asked.

“Torture his ass, get him to admit it, and kill the fucker. Pretty simple shit,” Axton shrugged.

“I’ll do it,” Toad said as he stood.

Axton shook his head, “I’ll fucking do it.”

“Hold up, boss,” Jack said as he raised his hand in the air.

“You kill this fucker now or you even kill him later, fed’s will be on this club like shit on a shoe. Whoever sent him knows he’s
here
. He comes up missing or turns up dead, we’re fucked,” Jack explained.

Axton turned toward Jack and shook his head from side-to-side and sighed.

“Well, what the fuck do you suggest?” he growled.

The thought of a cop being in the group was unthinkable to me. Gunner being the cop was much more believable than anyone else, he seemed to always be around, but in the same respect, he wasn’t around when he needed to be. As I sat and thought about it, he did seem to ask a hell of a lot of questions. He damned sure didn’t look like a
typical
cop, but after seeing what the ATF agent looked like in court, he damned sure could be an ATF agent.

Doing life in prison under the RICO act didn’t appeal to me
at all
.

“I say we kill the prick,” I said as I looked up.

Jack shook his head, “It’ll bring the heat in here so God damned quick, it’ll make your heads spin.”

“What’s the answer?” Axton asked.

“Well, he’s gonna be wearing a wire, you can bet on that. So we need to get him where we can talk to him and the wire ain’t any good. Won’t be easy, him being a cop and all, but we’ll have to do it. Anybody got a swimming pool?” Jack asked.

“A what? A fucking swimming pool?” Axton huffed.

Jack nodded his head, “Yeah a pool. Make his ass get in the pool. Water will ruin the wire. Only way I know for sure, other than stripping him down, and then you still don’t know. Fucking things can be in their hair, ears, hell some of the fellas in the joint said they even had ‘em sewn into their clothes. So if you make him strip, and he tosses his clothes in a pile beside him, he can still be listening,” Jack said as he raised his hand to his ear.

“Biscuit’s got a pool,” I said.

“Sure does,” Axton agreed.

“Fuck. Alright. I’ll get with Biscuit. We’ll need to get him over there without making him nervous. How in the absolute fuck are we going to do that?” Axton shrugged.

“Have Biscuit tell him we’ve got some pussy over there?” Jack shrugged, “But don’t tell him there’s a pool, fed’s hate being around pools. He’ll know what’s up for sure and he’ll call in the troops.”

“And we won’t say anything out loud. I know that much,” Axton said as he pulled his note pad out and shook it.

“I’ll write everything down and make him do the same. Son of a fucking bitch, I hope you’re wrong,” Axton said as he tossed his pad on the table.

“You fellas go out in the shop and act like nothing happened. Is the fucker out there now?” Axton asked.

I nodded my head.

Axton swung his leg up and kicked the table hard enough to lift it from the floor three feet.

“Fuck!” he yelled.

“Biscuit?” he asked.

“Nope, think he’s fucking the girl from the bar,” I responded.

“Alright, I’ll call him. Stay out in the shop, and just follow my lead. I’ll be out in a minute,” Axton said.

As we walked to the door, Axton cleared his throat, “Big Jack?”

“Yeah boss,” Jack said as he turned to face Axton.

“Cut looks good. And about this…” Axton sighed and shook his head as he gazed down at the floor.

As Axton glanced up, he continued, “Good lookin’ out, Jack. Good lookin’ out.”

Jack nodded his head, “Just doin’ my job, boss.”

An ounce of devotion is more powerful than a lifetime of knowledge or a heart filled with faith. Devotion has the ability to make even the weakest men develop strength, and the fear-filled become brave.

Jack was devoted to the club, there was no doubt in my mind.

I was devoted to the club, and to the woman I loved, Sam. If Jack was correct, and Gunner was a cop, he threatened to take the two things from me I was devoted to and truly loved.

And in no way was I going to let that happen.

Not without one hell of a fight.

SAM

I sat on the porch with my head in my hands and cried. I had never really cried much as a child or an adult, but I seemed to be making up for it now. The loss of my father as pre-teen was difficult, but I somehow accepted it. The loss of my mother, although untimely and by a very odd series of circumstances, had also been accepted. The loss of her beloved cat, however, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

In my excitement to see Otis’ car, I had left in a hurry, leaving the front door open. After the movie and my trip to the bar, I stumbled to my hotel room in a drunken stupor. Returning to my mother’s house the next day revealed the door had been left open, but my thoughts didn’t immediately include the cat. Only after an entire day of working without interruption did I realize the cat was gone.

I wiped my eyes and glanced to my side. A dish of food, another of water, and three small stuffed toys sat beside me. I gazed out into the dark yard and attempted to regain my composure. After a moment of sniveling and wiping my tired eyes, I raised my cupped hand to my mouth.

“Taaaaaylor. Kitty, kitty…Taaaaaylor…come here kitty,” I blubbered.

I scanned the yard for any movement.

Nothing.

As I lowered my face into my hands, my phone beeped. I picked it up and swiped my finger across the screen. A message from Avery revealed her best advice regarding the loss of my mother’s cat.

I stared down at the screen.

Avery: Shake a bag of cat food and make it rattle. It works every time.

After typing a quick
thank you
response, I set my phone aside and picked up the sack of cat food. It seemed ridiculous, but I stood up and began to shake the sack violently. After what seemed like no more than a few seconds of shaking it, I heard a rustling sound in the shrubbery beside the house, and Taylor jumped onto the porch.

“Meow…”

I dropped the sack of food onto the porch and reached down with both hands and picked her up. Immediately, she began to purr. I held her close to my chest, walked into the house, and closed the door. I’d never actually held a cat before and therefore had no experience doing so, but she seemed to like the way I was holding her. I walked to the loveseat, sat down and placed her beside where I was sitting.

She immediately jumped in my lap, walked in a few circles, and flopped down on her side. As she lay in my lap continuing to purr, she gazed up at me with her golden eyes and blinked a few times very slowly. Within a few minutes, she was asleep. I sat on the couch for some time, thinking of my mother, and what satisfaction she must have received from having the cat as her only house mate. There was no doubt in my mind my mother had loved the cat, and out of respect, I decided I needed to do the same, even if it proved difficult.

Carefully, I lifted the cat from my lap and set her aside on the loveseat. After cleaning the porch of her food, water, and toys, I walked back to the loveseat and sat down. Still asleep in a ball, Taylor appeared to be unaware or uncaring of the grief she had caused me. I shook my head, grinned, and sent Avery a text message letting her know I had found the cat.

Tired, relieved, and slightly bored, I opened the browser of my phone and typed a few words into the
Google
search window.

What does it mean when a cat blinks slowly

A screen full of answers popped up, and I clicked on the first one and read the article.

Slow blinking by a cat (sort of an eyes-almost-closed look, almost trance-like) is a good sign — one that says, “You’re my buddy, and I feel comfortable hanging out with you.”

I finished the article, tossed the phone to my side, and shifted my eyes toward the sleeping cat.

After a few seconds of watching her sleep, I reached down and ran my hand along her body. Her fur was soft, similar to the faux fur coats for sale in the mall at wintertime. I ran my hand along her fur again, amazed by the softness of it. She turned her head and opened her eyes. As the slits in the center increased into large black dots, I smiled at her and blinked my eyes a few times.

Slowly.