I didn't go back to the club that day. I knew Quintin wouldn't stand the sight of me without beating the crap out of me. Johnny and I went back to his place. I spent the rest of the day smoking cigarettes, going over what had happened that night again and again. I was shitfaced , but not enough to kill someone and not even remember it! I knew I was innocent, but once again, story of my life...
The next day, I woke up and made my way to the clubhouse immediately. The boys looked at me weirdly. Not like they disapproved what I had done, or what they thought I had done, but they didn't exactly approve it either. I didn't speak to anyone. I went directly to Quintin's office but as my hand reached the handle, I heard voices inside. I recognized Richard's voice.
-...told you he was no good. Now we're fucked! He just bought us a war!
-I fucking know!-Quintin answered.
-You should just rip his vest off, deliver him to the N9ners. Fuck him!
-No. That's not how we handle club business!
-Why? Because he's a Jackson? Fuck that! Since he got here he has broken every rule in the book! Why does he get away with it?
-Leave the club administration to me, will you?
-No! This is unbelievable! You protect him, and in return what does he do? Screw you over, walk all over you, talks back, disrespects you in front of everyone! Why do you allow it? You know exactly how it ended up the last time a Jackson was around. Did you forget? You're the target now!
I couldn't listen any more of it. I was pissed off! Richard was playing both of us, but he had no idea who he was messing with. I opened the door aggressively, walked in and slammed it shut. I didn't say anything. I just looked at Richard. He looked worried.
-Momma didn't teach you good manners?-Richard finally broke the ice, avoiding eye contact.
-No. She died. What's your excuse?-I said, coldly. Still staring at him.
-Enough.-Quintin intervened.-What is it that you want?
-Excuse me, but shut up.-I told him and turned to Richard again.-Please, don't let my presence stop your line of thought. Proceed the conversation.
-Excuse you!-Quintin intervened again. He was getting on my nerves.
-I don't need this shit.-Richard sighted and opened the door. I slammed it shut again. -Get out of my way, boy!
-No.
He looked at me like he was about to rip out my head. I stared at him, feeling my blood boil in my veins. The standoff lasted almost a minute and none of us was backing down, until Quintin spoke again.
-Mike! What the fuck did you come here for? Aren't you in enough trouble?
-I DIDN'T FUCKING KILL BABY BROTHER!-I screamed. I was so frustrated. Richard was facing me, with his back turned to Quintin. And when his lips curved into a little grin, a light bulb went off in my head. That was the last drop.-You... YOU!-I punched him.
After that, all hell broke loose inside Quintin's office. We were at each other's throats like wild animals. I was blind by the rage. Had I have gotten the chance, I would've killed him... But it didn't take long for the boys to rush in and split us up.
-I'LL KILL YOU, BOY!-Richard screamed.
-YOU KILLED MATHEW'S BROTHER! YOU'RE FUCKING SICK! -I screamed back. Quintin was just standing there, looking at us, disappointed.
-I've had enough of this bullshit...-He finally said and left.
The moment the boys let go of me, I tried to reach Richard again, but they grabbed me again. Eventually they took Richard out of the clubhouse, exactly when Johnny was walking in. He looked back to see Richard being carried out, confused. Then noticed me in the back of the room, bleeding out of my nose. He got even more confused.
