Burn by Erin Trejo

1

Ihold the gas can, pouring it over the mess I made. Over the years I’ve learned to clean up my own messes. And there have been many messes to clean. My life was never roses and hearts. I suppose at one point in time it might have been but that was before my cracked out mother dumped me on a goddamn doorstep and took off. I was raised by an elderly couple that couldn’t see half the shit I did because they were that old. I lived my life the way I wanted to and I didn’t give a shit about them but the first time Mr. Harding had a fucking heart attack, I nearly died myself. I couldn’t believe he almost died and I was a complete shitface to him. I hated myself for that but I never said I was sorry. I couldn’t. That wasn’t me and I think the day he took his last breath, he knew.

He looked at me with those big green eyes full of tears with his weathered wrinkled skin slowly fading away. I clung to the hope that he would go quickly. He did. And she followed not long after.

I was left to my own devices after that and I found myself as part of a Royal Devils. I wasn’t born into this shit like most of the guys around here.

I light my cigarette and take a long drag before flicking the match toward the house. Then I step back and watch it ignite and burn. There’s something sweet about watching a fire. I suppose that’s the reason I got the road name, Burn. It’s what I do and I’m good at it. I take a long drawl from my cigarette and cock my head to the side watching the colors as they lick the sky. There’s a beauty in the burn and I love it. Even the ashes. Picking them up and letting them sift through your fingers, there’s an air of finality in them. You did this. I did this. I ended a life that didn’t have the right to be alive to begin with. He was useless and now he will burn for eternity if not for a little while in the manmade hell I just sparked for him.

“Good riddance motherfucker,” I growl before flicking my cigarette into the flames and turning on my heel. I’m back at my bike, ready to ride in no time with the heat of the fire at my back. If Ruger, from the Soulless Bastards were here, that son of a bitch would be proud of me burning it down but not before fucking that little prick with a broomstick. Yeah, he would be goddamn proud of me today.

Tugging my helmet on, I take one last look over my shoulder before I hear the sirens in the distance. It’s time to ride and get the hell out of here if I know what’s good for me. As the Prez, I can do whatever the fuck I want, even burning down goddamn houses. Sure I have people that do this for me but this bastard made it personal and I repaid that debt. A debt that I was owed.

Revving the bike, I pull off down the road and out onto the highway. Cars line the fucking road, goddamn rush hour. I cut the lanes, riding as fast as I can but not enough to draw attention from the cops. That’s some shit I don’t need.

Finding my exit, I swerve off and take it, heading down the block toward the clubhouse. We’re right in the middle of town and just how I like it. They can see me. They know me. They know we’re here and that we aren’t going anywhere. I make our presence known when need be and I keep it locked down when we don’t. That’s the beauty of being the President of the Royal Devils Central Coast California Chapter. We run wild and we play hard. We fuck with a determination that not many others have. We love with all our hearts but we also don’t take any shit. Cross one, you cross all. Fuck us over and you’ll end up in a back alley somewhere.

Some days I wonder if we’re too harsh, too evil but at the end of the day we handle business accordingly and we live by our man made rules. No one can touch us and if they dare try we’ll leave them in a pile of ash just like that motherfucker I just left. They will need to ID him by his teeth and his teeth only because I made sure no other part of him was identifiable.

Pulling into the parking lot, I pull down the ramp into our underground parking and park my bike. No one gets near our bikes down here. That’s why I had it built this way. Pulling my helmet off, I stroll into the addition to our clubhouse underground. It was smart on my part to do this when I took over as Prez. The addition allowed us a place to be safe during lock downs when needed. No one could get to us and no one could penetrate the bottom level.

I stroll through the door and find my brothers, my boys. The only real family I have sitting around shooting the shit. That’s when Outlaw’s eyes find mine. I give him a quick nod letting him know the situation is handled. As my VP he should have been in on that kill but I wouldn’t allow it. It was too close for him and that never ends well on our parts.

“You straight?” I nod my head when he asks, passing me a beer. I tip it to my lips and take a long pull.

“It was perfect. You should have seen it. The motherfucker never saw me comin’,” I tell him. He smiles and nods his head.

“I owe you one.”

“Like fuck you do. We’re brothers. We help each other just like always. You just remind that little girl when she has nightmares that the monster is fuckin’ dead. He won’t ever hurt her again.” Outlaw nods his head, swallowing hard before turning and walking away. That shit was personal to him too. That piece of shit bastard molested his little sister. I’ve been trailing his ass ever since we found out and she wasn’t the only one. I may be a sick bastard but kids are off limits in my world. Some clubs don’t mind that shit but here? You’ll end up six feet under if you mess with a kid. We don’t go that route and when it hits home we handle it. Just like that motherfucker.

“Hey Burn. You want me to suck you off?” Dana, a club whore asks when she sees me. I shake my head and pull my joint from behind my ear, sticking it in my mouth.

“Got shit to do, darlin’,” I tell her as I light up.