Masked & Miserable: A Novella of the Sacred Hearts MC (Book 3.5) by A.J. Downey Page B
Authors: A.J. Downey
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direction of the back room with
the glowing end of his cig.
“Whatever is eating at him had him tie one on but good
tonight, but you don’t see us badgering him about it,” he leveled me with a
look and picked up his tequila and sipped. I did the same. I wasn’t usually a
fan of it, but this shit was good! Going down smooth as butter.
“Yeah,” I said.
“But I bet if we asked him he’d tell us what was what,”
Dragon said.
“Probably,” I agreed, because that was how it was. You
weren’t supposed to hide things from your brothers. Guilt swirled in my chest,
just behind my breastbone and the bitter taste of my lies and falsehoods choked
me and turned the fine tequila I’d just drunk to ashes in my mouth. I knew what
was coming… The silence hung too thick and full between us. Pregnant with so
many things unsaid.
“You really going to make me ask?” he sniffed and took
another drag on his cigarette, jettisoning twin streams of smoke from his nose,
so much like you would picture his namesake doing. He sighed resigned, the
silence having stretched for eons between us.
“Okay. Have it your way boy,” he stubbed out his cigarette
and made to get up, and I just knew that this was it. That this was the end of
me and being a part of this MC if I didn’t speak up, that it was officially the
end of the line and I either put up or shrugged out of this prospect’s cut here
and now and I didn’t want that… I didn’t want to let go of the club but
terrified as I was about coming clean I had to. It was now or never and so I
just blurted it out,
“I’m gay!”
I felt the tears rise hot and fierce, my vision blurring
with them. Dragon looked at me and sank back into his seat and waited, but I
was waiting too. For the look of disgust, for the screaming and the yelling,
for the accusations and recriminations...
“Well it’s about time,” was all he said and I choked, hard.
I wasn’t supposed to cry! Fuck man. Biker’s didn’t cry, my father’s son was
not supposed to be some pansy assed faggot! And it was that last thought
that had my shoulders rounding and my head bowing. The tears fell free and I fucking
cried, big, wracking, shame filled fucking tears and waited for the first blow
to land.
It landed all right, just not in the way I expected.
Dragon’s hand fell onto my shoulder and gripped it through the leather of my
prospect’s cut and jacket. He shook me back and forth gently and said, “Easy
boy. It’s all right,” and his voice didn’t hold any malice or reproach. Just a
gentle, steady, rock solid support which just made me come unglued even harder
and then Dragon, the President of the Sacred Hearts motorcycle club did
something completely unprecedented.
He hugged me.
Chapter 5
Squick…
“You all right?” he drawled after I’d settled down some. I
was sitting back in my seat. Numb. He pushed my unfinished glass of tequila
toward me and I stared at it for a long minute.
“Put that down,” he ordered and I obediently picked up the
glass and swallowed. The alcohol burned going down my raw throat and I welcomed
it like I welcomed the bite and sting of the needle. I sniffed.
“Been holding that in a good long while, yeah?” he asked and
I nodded mutely, afraid to speak. It seemed Dragon was content to do all the
talking for now.
“You’re coming up, boy. You and Zander both, but that’s not
why you told me. I can see it plain as day. You asked me if it was really that
bad with The Suicide Kings and you was thinkin’ of somethin’, what was it?” he
asked.
I sighed. It was out now. My dirty little secret and I
didn’t know what it meant for me or for my standing with the club but Aaron was
right. I felt lighter, freer somehow and whatever happened next I didn’t want
to think about but I felt like maybe I could deal with it.
“It wasn’t a something, it was someone,” I sucked in a
breath. This wasn’t something… I mean if it were Ashton or one of the
the glowing end of his cig.
“Whatever is eating at him had him tie one on but good
tonight, but you don’t see us badgering him about it,” he leveled me with a
look and picked up his tequila and sipped. I did the same. I wasn’t usually a
fan of it, but this shit was good! Going down smooth as butter.
“Yeah,” I said.
“But I bet if we asked him he’d tell us what was what,”
Dragon said.
“Probably,” I agreed, because that was how it was. You
weren’t supposed to hide things from your brothers. Guilt swirled in my chest,
just behind my breastbone and the bitter taste of my lies and falsehoods choked
me and turned the fine tequila I’d just drunk to ashes in my mouth. I knew what
was coming… The silence hung too thick and full between us. Pregnant with so
many things unsaid.
“You really going to make me ask?” he sniffed and took
another drag on his cigarette, jettisoning twin streams of smoke from his nose,
so much like you would picture his namesake doing. He sighed resigned, the
silence having stretched for eons between us.
“Okay. Have it your way boy,” he stubbed out his cigarette
and made to get up, and I just knew that this was it. That this was the end of
me and being a part of this MC if I didn’t speak up, that it was officially the
end of the line and I either put up or shrugged out of this prospect’s cut here
and now and I didn’t want that… I didn’t want to let go of the club but
terrified as I was about coming clean I had to. It was now or never and so I
just blurted it out,
“I’m gay!”
I felt the tears rise hot and fierce, my vision blurring
with them. Dragon looked at me and sank back into his seat and waited, but I
was waiting too. For the look of disgust, for the screaming and the yelling,
for the accusations and recriminations...
“Well it’s about time,” was all he said and I choked, hard.
I wasn’t supposed to cry! Fuck man. Biker’s didn’t cry, my father’s son was
not supposed to be some pansy assed faggot! And it was that last thought
that had my shoulders rounding and my head bowing. The tears fell free and I fucking
cried, big, wracking, shame filled fucking tears and waited for the first blow
to land.
It landed all right, just not in the way I expected.
Dragon’s hand fell onto my shoulder and gripped it through the leather of my
prospect’s cut and jacket. He shook me back and forth gently and said, “Easy
boy. It’s all right,” and his voice didn’t hold any malice or reproach. Just a
gentle, steady, rock solid support which just made me come unglued even harder
and then Dragon, the President of the Sacred Hearts motorcycle club did
something completely unprecedented.
He hugged me.
Chapter 5
Squick…
“You all right?” he drawled after I’d settled down some. I
was sitting back in my seat. Numb. He pushed my unfinished glass of tequila
toward me and I stared at it for a long minute.
“Put that down,” he ordered and I obediently picked up the
glass and swallowed. The alcohol burned going down my raw throat and I welcomed
it like I welcomed the bite and sting of the needle. I sniffed.
“Been holding that in a good long while, yeah?” he asked and
I nodded mutely, afraid to speak. It seemed Dragon was content to do all the
talking for now.
“You’re coming up, boy. You and Zander both, but that’s not
why you told me. I can see it plain as day. You asked me if it was really that
bad with The Suicide Kings and you was thinkin’ of somethin’, what was it?” he
asked.
I sighed. It was out now. My dirty little secret and I
didn’t know what it meant for me or for my standing with the club but Aaron was
right. I felt lighter, freer somehow and whatever happened next I didn’t want
to think about but I felt like maybe I could deal with it.
“It wasn’t a something, it was someone,” I sucked in a
breath. This wasn’t something… I mean if it were Ashton or one of the
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