They say anything worth having is worth working for. I say, anything worth having is worth earning. Tonight, for the first time ever, I have my Nomad rocker. And I’m sure as fuck gonna earn it.
With every prick of my finger, I bleed love for Sinner’s Creed. Pride swells in my chest with every stitch. My hands are numb. My eyes hurt. The pain in my back from my hunched-over state is almost unbearable—and I love every second of it.
Two hours later I’m finished. My patch is perfectly aligned, stitched to perfection. The tip of a knife can’t fit between the threads. To cut it off, they’ll have to pull it from my back and even then, it will be a struggle.
My cut feels heavier when I slide it over my shoulders. The weight is warm, welcome, and comforting. I’ll wear it with honor. I’ll wear it for Dirk. I’ll do it justice. I’ll make him proud.
The club is gathered around me. The feeling is overwhelming. I’m no longer just a patch holder. I’m not just another brother. I am the greatest thing I’ve ever been. I’ll never be more than I am in this moment.
I am proud.
I am powerful.
I am his legacy.
I am Sinner’s Creed Nomad National, Shady.
* * *
I hadn’t given much thought to how being a Nomad would affect my time with Diem. I like her—a lot. But I love my club. There will never be a time I put her first. This is my life. If she wants a place in it, she’ll have to settle for second.
Even though she’s not my top priority, she’s never far from my mind. I think about her every day. I miss her more than I should. I haven’t been apart from her long enough for my absence to be questioned, but I know that’s all fixing to change.
It’s time for me to start making my presence known. Today, I’m in Los Angeles, where things are different. The brothers here are different too. They don’t trust easily, and they don’t take well to change. Dirk didn’t care about their trust. It was his respect they had to earn, not the other way around. But I’m not Dirk. And they’re not letting me forget it. I start to call Jimbo and ask him for a little advice on how to bring them down to size. But it’s Diem’s number that I dial instead.
“Well hello, stranger,” she greets, and I smile.
“Where are you?” My first job as a Nomad isn’t going as well as planned. Because of this, I find myself wishing I was at home and she was on her way over.
“I’m out of town on a business trip. Won’t be back for a couple of days. Where are you?”
“Same. Meeting with some clients out west.” I light a cigarette, listening to her vent about some work colleagues that can’t seem to do their job, which means that she is called out to pick up their slack. Then about how she doesn’t get the respect she deserves because everyone thinks they are in charge.
“I know the feeling. Sometimes, there are too many chiefs and not enough Indians,” I say, stubbing out my cigarette and digging deep to find the courage to go back inside the Los Angeles chapter’s clubhouse.
“True, but what they don’t know is that I’m not a chief or an Indian. I’m a wolf . . . the one everybody should fear.” She doesn’t know it, but her words were just the kick in the ass I needed. It sounds just like something Dirk would say.
“Go be a wolf, pretty girl, and call me when you get home.” I hang up and walk inside with a newfound confidence. This place is swarming with chiefs, but just like Diem, today I’m a motherfucking wolf.
* * *
“You did what?” Jimbo is pissed. The president of the Los Angeles chapter is in the hospital. And I’m at a gas station on my way back home.
“With all due respect, Jimbo, what the hell did you expect me to do? They didn’t want to listen to me, and if I’m here to represent you and Sinner’s Creed, then that means they disrespected all of us. Me, the patch, and Nationals. Now, if you want me to go back, apologize, and renege on everything I did, I will. But if what you want is an army you can trust and soldiers that know their place, then I suggest you back the fuck up off me.”
I’m breathing hard. I’m beyond pissed. With every word, I became angrier. I didn’t mean any disrespect toward Nationals, but they sent me to do a job and I did it. If my methods were too harsh for their sensitive little Los Angeles chapter, then next time they could send someone else to do it.
Jimbo’s breathing is all I can hear on the line. I don’t know if he’s trying to calm down or preparing to tell me to come back so he can kill me. What I do know is that I’m in the right on this one. And I ain’t backing down.