Revved Up Soul

Chapter 12

Luke

The lights had cast a foreboding and soft orange hue against the round table. It was a beast of a creation, wrought iron legs decorated with detailed etchings of Norse runes kept the massive wooden structure upright. The circle of wood was made of a resplendent and ages old cedar, lacquered lovingly by the forefathers of the club into a fine polish that partially reflected the faces of the men that sat its chairs. Many people's death warrants had been signed on this table. More still would, Luke mused, bringing his hands together.

Smoke danced through the air aimlessly before the president himself, Allen Knight, lit up a cigar of his own. A shiver ran down Luke's spine – he knew it wasn't right what he did on the way here. If anyone knew what he was doing on that road . . .

Gabriel, directly across from Luke, turned his head away from the smoke. He and Luke were the few that did not partake – save for when they really needed it. Gabriel had brown hair that cascaded to his shoulders, quite possibly the most 'pretty boy' of the whole club, it curtained his face in such a way that it made him look as if he were only nineteen. He was of course twenty and six. The man had a long, pointed nose that gave him a touch of regality, and his cheekbones were high, very prominent; Gabriel's eyes were dark as chocolates and deep as bottomless pits, to Luke, they made him look all the more thoughtful, pensive even.

Directly to the left, sat Robert 'Chains' Knight, vice president of the MC and son of Allen. Whereas Robert's hair was blonde and spiked up, Allen's was tousled in a mess and starting to recede ever so slightly.

Robert leaned over and whispered in Luke's ear. "Heard you needed a ride today man," here we go, "shoulda called your boy I woulda tossed my bitch out and been there in a heartbeat." Though he'd never let the man in on it, Luke truly did not care much for the vice president – they were not close in the least. Well, not anymore at least; for a time they had been close growing up, but things change and so do people. How things were now, was how Luke preferred it to be.

Luke glanced at Robert. "Well I know how you like to kick your conquests to the curb, I should have considered that beforehand – next time, brother." Physical sickness swelled in his stomach, just saying the word felt like an abortion of what it implied. He touched the bronze ring on his finger inscribed 'bro'.

"Awesome," he popped his knuckles, "I can't wait to crack some skull again man, jonesing so bad." He gave a stupid little laugh, shifting to face Luke. "Hey let me ask you, you think we're getting screwed?"

Luke craned his head, a bitterness overcoming him at having to acknowledge his existence. "In my experience this is called sitting."

"What?" He screwed his face up confused, "I'm talkin' 'bout Earl man, you think he's getting us too cheap?"

"Not really our place to decide," Luke replied, "he pays above street value and we make good money."

Turning from Robert, Luke looked to Allen as he did a nice long drag of his cigar – letting the smoke smoothly roll out of his mouth. He sat beside his son, naturally, at the head of the table.

Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, Luke produced it and eyed the caller I.D. Kayla. He stuffed it back where it belonged, even if the meeting wasn't going down he still didn't want to pick it up.

Allen spoke up, "Let's get down to brass tacks," his voice was gruff. "We need to get our heads out of our god damned asses and find something," Allen sucked and the embers glowed red as fiery rubies.

The man to Gabriel's left, Alex, suggested, "What if it's not the usual suspects, like someone outside the MC's."

Allen narrowed his eyes, "Why? You got somethin' Lex?"