Renegade Reject (2 page)

“There was a late truck. I had to help unload it before clocking out,” I lie, not wanting her to know that I stopped by Jake’s house for a few minutes. If Father or Mother ever found out that I have a friend who doesn’t belong to our church, hell would surely freeze over. 

Mother shakes her head.  “You know how your father and I feel about that job of yours anyway.  Why you feel the need to work outside of the church, I’ll never understand.”

No, she won’t and neither will he.  If it were up to them, I would spend all of my time studying the bible and preparing to take my place as the leader of my father’s church someday.  That’s just not gonna happen.

“I want to help the church prosper,” I lie again; the same lie I used to convince my father to allow me to get a job.  There was no way he was going to turn down more money for the donation plate.

Her eyes narrow before looking back to her bible, ending the conversation without another word.  Her body is stiff, and I can tell there is more going on than just me being a little late, but I know better than to ask. 

Leaving her, I head toward the living room. I see my little sister kneeling in the corner.  I can tell by the way her body is shaking that she’s been in the same position for a long time.  Knowing our father, he’s probably forced her to pray for hours on end, repenting for whatever imagined sin she has committed.  I have to fight the urge to go to her and ask her what the hell she did this time, but I know that it would only make things worse.  Father would punish her even more if he ever found out about my interference, so it’s best if I just leave her alone. 

I silently walk further into the room as she mumbles her prayers. Her head remains bowed until she hears my approaching footsteps.  For a moment, she stiffens in fear that my father has returned. When she quickly glances over her shoulders, her eyes land on me, and a sympathetic smile spreads across her face. Her eyes apologize for the shit storm that is heading my way.

It’s a known rule in our household that whenever my sister is in trouble, Father will eventually take his wrath out on me.  I nod my head, to let her know it’ll be okay.  She shakes her head in response, before her eyes dart across the room to the coffee table.  Two cans of Pepsi are sitting on it, proving that my sister has broken one of Father’s cardinal rules: no caffeine.

I shake my head at her sheer stupidity.  Tabby never should have brought them in the house in the first place. She knows that our stash of “devil’s food” stays safely hidden in our old tree house.  I love her with all my heart, but sometimes she irritates the hell out of me.  I have spent years trying to teach her how to avoid Father’s anger, but she never learns.  She just has to push and push until he punishes her. 

Tabby is the only reason I’ve stayed in this hellhole for as long as I have. If it weren’t for her, I would have turned my back and ran far and fast when I turned eighteen a month ago, but she’s only fifteen, and I couldn’t leave her behind to deal with our parents alone. Three more years of this bullshit, and then we can be free of our asshole father and his holier-than-thou ways.

Knowing that there isn’t much I can do for Tabby now, I head to my bedroom.  If I can make it there before Father sees me, I may be able avoid being punished.  That hope is short lived, because as soon as I step into the hallway I hear
Left Behind
by Slipknot coming from my room.  The sound immediately sends my stomach into knots. How the hell did he find my CDs?  All of a sudden, it hits me.  My sister didn’t bring the Pepsi inside. Father finally found our hiding spot. 

I take a deep breath, letting the heavy air flow into my lungs, and brace myself for what’s waiting for me as soon as I walk into my bedroom. Stepping through the dark wooden door, the first thing that I notice is Father sitting on my bed with an expressionless face.  My box of secret CDs, the ones that he would never in a million years let me listen to, balancing on his lap.  He has
The Slim Shady LP
by Eminem in his hand, gravely looking at the cover: stupid, stupid me.  Why did I have to be so careless? Why did I have to break the rules?

Hearing me enter, Father turns his head.  When his eyes land on me, he stands up, sending the box of CDs crashing to the floor.  Shaking the CD in his hand, he starts to scream, “So now you’re listening to devil music and polluting your soul with these evil words! Have I not raised you better than this?”

Knowing not to respond, I hang my head and wait for the inevitable.  It doesn’t take long before he is striding toward me.  A second later, his fist flies into my face I can feel the blood pooling in my mouth, but I don’t look up.  I don’t even move. 

“Sex and violence; this is what you listen to?” He screams the question before putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing me to my knees.  “Repent, son.  Ask the Lord for forgiveness. Ask him to save your unworthy soul.”

I start to pray.  Unlike my sister, I do not pray silently. Instead, I bark out my words, knowing Dad will want to hear every repentance that passes through my lips.  “Dear Lord, forgive me for my sins.”

The words have barely left my mouth when Dad’s belt slashes across my back.  After eighteen years of his punishments, it seems like I would be prepared for the pain, but I’m not.  The force knocks me from my knees, causing my head to smash into the hardwood floor.  “You’re worthless, nothing but worthless.”

I don’t even have time to pull myself up before he swings the belt again.  This time, the buckle slams into my kidney, sending a wave of unbearable pain throughout my body. 

“You have turned your back on the Lord, and you must be punished. I’ve tried with you, boy. Tried my best to beat the devil out of you, but you’re a sinner, Garrett. You were born a sinner, and you’ll die a sinner.”

He continues to shout, but I can no longer hear his words.  The pain has taken away my ability to hear; all I can do is focus on the agony I’m in. 
Whack, whack, whack!
The blows keep coming, each one harder than the last.

Suddenly, he takes a step back, no longer beating me.  I raise my head, trying to figure out why he’s stopped.  Father is staring toward the hallway.  One of his hands is holding a death grip on his leather belt, while the other points toward my bedroom door.  “What are you doing in here, Tabitha?  You know you’re not allowed in your brother’s room.  You are supposed to be on your knees, praying for the Lord’s forgiveness of your evil ways.”

I follow his hand and see Tabby standing a few feet away, her eyes filled with tears.  She has to get out of here. She has to get the hell away from Father right now.  I’ll take whatever he has to give, as long as he leaves her alone.  I try to shake my head, try to shout out and tell her to leave, but my body doesn’t cooperate. 

“You have to stop. You’re going to kill him, Father.” My sister whispers out, bracing herself against the doorframe. Her legs are still shaking from her time spent praying. 

He takes a step toward her and draws back his arm, preparing to swing the belt.  I can’t let him do it. I can’t let him hurt Tabby.  Before I can push myself off the floor, I hear the slap of leather hitting skin.  The sound echoes throughout the room twice more before I can finally grab his arm. 

Looking at Tabby, I immediately see streaks of blood running down her cheek.  The leather has left bright red marks across one shoulder and up her neck, while the metal buckle has left a large gash on her cheek.  Her eyes briefly meet mine before they cloud over, and she crumbles to the floor. 

Without a second thought, I pull the belt from his grasp and use all my strength to swing it at my father.  The sound of it tearing into his flesh washes away all the pain I’m feeling.  He starts to scream, begging for me to stop, but I ignore him.  Swinging the belt again and again, I don’t even think about stopping until I hear the sounds of my mother’s screams as she rushes into the room.  After a moment’s hesitation, I tune her out and continue my assault.

By the time I’m done, my father is curled up on the floor.  He is lying in a pool of his own blood, and I am being led away in handcuffs.  I feel numb from head to toe, but deep down inside, I feel proud that I finally gave Father a taste of what he’s been giving Tabby and me for years.

Riding in the back of a cop car is frightening, but not nearly as scary as being pushed into a cell with a guy wearing a motorcycle club emblem on his vest. Judging by the look on his face, I can tell the guy is obviously not at all happy to be sharing his cell with me.  I vaguely see a Renegade Sons MC patch before I dart my eyes away from the man. 

The guard pats my shoulder before closing the cell door.  “It’s Hogrock Weekend, son, which means all the cells are full with bikers. Don’t worry, they don’t usually bite.”

I can hear the guard chuckle as he walks away.  I watch him until he’s out of sight, hoping that this is all just a joke.  There’s no way he’d leave me in here with this man, is there?

As the minutes tick by, I realize I’m stuck in a jail cell with someone that could probably take me out without even breaking a sweat.  I’m too frightened to turn around, too afraid to let this man see that I’m barely more than a kid.  Covered in bruises and filled with pain, I’m not sure I can handle another beating.

“He’s right. I don’t bite,” says a gravelly voice from behind me. 

I look over my shoulder while trying my best to hide my fear. Slowly turning around, I make my way to the empty cot without saying a word. Before I can even sit down, the guy starts to talk. “What’cha in here for, boy?”

Ever since the cops showed up at the house, I’ve kept my mouth shut, refusing to answer any of their questions.  Not once did I deny my mother’s claims that I had beat my dad and whipped my sister, not even when Tabby tried to get me to tell the truth.  I didn’t even tell the cops about the whipping that my father gave me in the first place, which started this whole ordeal. I just blindly held out my hands for the cuffs and followed the officers to their squad car. 

But for some reason, I want to tell this guy.  I need to tell him my truths.  “I beat my dad with his own belt, which happened to also be the same belt that he used on my little sister’s face.  I did him in pretty good, so now I’ll probably go to prison. I don’t care, though, because it was worth it just to give him a little payback.”

The guy stares at me for a long minute, sizing me up, while my heart picks up tempo. My khakis and button up shirt are proof of just how out of place I am, and now he probably thinks I’m spewing lies to sound like a hard ass. What the hell have I gotten myself into?  After a few silent moments pass, my cellmate seems to have come to some sort of decision. Nodding his head my way, he grunts.

“What’s your name?”

“Garrett Austin.”

He sticks his hand out and smiles.  “I’m Kidd.”

Chapter One

Big Clifty, Missouri

PREACH

Walking into the clubhouse, I make my way over to the bar and see that Kidd is already sitting on a barstool with one of the club whores straddling his lap.  She’s grinding against him and loving every minute of it, but he’s oblivious to her.  His eyes are trained on the hallway, and he looks anything but happy. 

I don’t even have to look to know what’s got the Pres in such a shitty mood, but I do anyway.  Ice and Timber are walking down the hall.  He’s buttoning up his pants, and Ice is running her fingers through her hair.  They both look happy; content even.  I turn back to the bar and see Kidd watching them with his fists clenched, jaw twitching. 

Kidd stares at them for a minute more before looking around the room.  As soon as he sees me, he lifts his chin.  “Preach, we got church in ten.”

I can tell by his tone that this is not a normal meeting. If Kidd has called an emergency meeting, then something is going down. If I’m included, it must be something big.  As a prospect, I don’t take part in church yet. I normally have to sit on the sidelines while the patched in members handle business. 

I nod, acknowledging his words, before looking over the bar and telling Rum to give me a shot of Jack. I have a feeling I’m gonna need it.

I chug the fiery liquid back in one gulp, and then wait for Rum to fill me up again.  After two more shots down the hatch the warmth from the alcohol begins to spread in my stomach, I head back to the chapel. The chairs are filled with members, so I walk toward the back of the room and lean against the wall.  A few minutes later, Kidd walks in and takes his seat.  Right on his heels is Reese, who shuts the door and locks it. The room remains bathed in a heavy silence until Kidd picks up the gavel and calls the meeting to order. 

“First things first, it’s past time to vote Preach in.  I know Pop put off the vote because of Preach’s connection to the DEA, but I think that’s bullshit.  Pop’s gone now, so this is my show, and I say it’s time to vote him in.  He’s been with us for years, and he’s never given me any reason not to trust him.”

Shit!  I didn’t see this coming.  Yeah, most guys get their patch after a year, some even less than that, but I knew Gun wanted to make sure I didn’t have any ties to Tabby’s bastard of a husband before he’d ever let me patch in.

After spending two years in prison for beating my dad nearly to death, I went home, hoping I could still save Tabby.  Instead, I found out that my sister had married a fuckin’ DEA agent and was expecting a child.  The fact that she was only seventeen and he was over thirty didn’t seem to bother anyone but me. 

Mom treated me like I had the plague, and Dad refused to even speak to me.  Tabby, on the other hand, was happy to see me, but her husband shared my parents’ disdain.  He didn’t want his wife to have anything to do with a felon, even if the felon was her brother. Tabby being Tabby meant she didn’t listen to him or our parents and would sneak out to see me. This went on for a few months until she got caught.  Her husband ended up giving her an ultimatum, though I still have no idea what the hell it was. In the end, she made her decision and asked me to stay away. 

I kept trying to see her, but she refused.  After a while, I realized that my life in Illinois was over. That’s when I headed to Big Clifty and looked up Kidd. We spent three days together sharing a cell, and I was lucky enough to call him a friend before he was bailed out.  His friendship and connections were the only things that kept me safe in prison.  Needless to say, an eighteen year old kid had no place in Stateville Correctional Center, especially one that was still wet behind the ears and had no idea of what he had really gotten himself into.