That’s where my bike came from. He built it with his own two hands, from scratch. I fuckin’ love my bike, more so because he made it for me. He gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday. I cherish it.
He’s made so many sacrifices for me over the years. He even sold three of his beloved custom-built hot-rods, to put a down payment on the house and help pay my Uni fees. I love my Pops. I’ve never told him that. He’d probably call me a fuckin’ pussy if I did. I know he knows though. Just like I know he loves me.
After finishing high school, I screwed around for the first few months. I wasn’t sure what direction I wanted to take. With my grades, I knew I could take on any career, but truthfully I wanted to be like my Pops. That’s when I decided to get the club tattoo on my back.
That night, when I got home from the tattoo parlour, I showed him my tatt and told him I wanted to patch in. Stupid me thought he’d be happy. Wrong. Fuck did he go off. He wouldn’t have a bar of it. Flipped his fucking lid. It was the only time we ever came close to blows.
Afterwards, when he’d calmed down, he asked me to think long and hard about a career, something respectable, worthy. Something on the right side of the law. Something I could be proud of. That’s how the idea of studying Law came about. If I couldn’t follow in Pops’ footsteps then I’d do what my real dad did.
He was a lawyer. That’s about all I know about him. My mum wouldn’t tell me anything else, no matter how much I begged. The most I got out of her was that he used to be a lawyer and he’s dead. That’s fucking it. I tried to find out more about him, but she wouldn’t budge. “He’s dead,” she’d say. “That’s all you need to know.” Bitch.
Growing up I became obsessed with him. My mum didn’t give two shits about me, so I’d fantasize about him. Imagine how different my life would be if he was still alive. How close we would be. All the things we’d do together. How much he would love me. Crazy I know, because I have no idea what he was really like. Personality wise, I’m nothing like my mother. I have a heart. So I guess I got that from my dad.
I vowed one day I’d find out everything I could about him. I don’t have much to go on though. I’ve never seen a photo of him so I don’t even know what he looks like. My mum and I don’t look much alike, so I presume I take after him.
I hope following in his footsteps will make him proud; stupid really, because he’s dead, but I want that. I just want one of my parents to give a shit. I know Pops does. He’s proud of me. Tells me all the time. “Proud of ya, boy,” he says. I’m lucky to have him.
Once I’m finished with Uni and get a real job, with real money, the first thing I’m going to do is hire an investigator to see what I can find out about my biological father. I wish my mum wasn’t such a bitch, and would just tell me. That’s never going to fuckin’ happen though.
When Pops first took me away from my mum and her toxicity, I moved into the clubhouse with him and his brothers. Not blood related brothers, although you’d think they were. More like brothers in arms. They’re always looking out for each other. There’s absolutely nothing they wouldn’t do for one of their brothers. I love that about them. It was something I wasn’t used to. My mum never really looked out for me.
I love her because she’s my mum. She gave birth to me. That’s the only reason though. She only gave two shits about me when it suited. That wasn’t very fuckin’ often. When I was small I didn’t know any better. It wasn’t until Pops came along, showering me with love and kindness, that I realised what a useless mother she really was.
Living at the clubhouse was an eye opener for a twelve year old, I can tell you. I loved it though. Pops sheltered me as much as he could. Not much got past me though. The Flaming Skulls MC soon became my family too. For once in my life I felt like I really mattered.
I remember when I was about fourteen. I asked my dad a question about sex. I was young and curious.
“Hey, Trixie,” he said to one of the club moles. “Teach my boy about the birds and fuckin’ bees will ya.” Oh she taught me alright. Gave me a crash course. After a half hour of show and tell, she gave me my first ever blowjob. Blew my fucking mind. I was hooked. By the time I was fifteen I was having sex almost daily. The moles at the club were easy. That was what they were there for. Our pleasure. They taught me everything I know.
There’s one thing they never taught me though. That’s how different sex is with someone you care about. Only one person on this earth has taught me that valuable lesson. My Angel.