Page 26 of Money Shot

VINCE

September 11th,2014

There were very few men I respected as much as my father. Axton Bishop was one of those men. I didn’t respect him because he demanded it or because he wore the “President” patch. I respected him because his actions, his words, and where his heart was required that I do so. To not respect him for who he was would do nothing but provide support of me being incapable of seeing just what it was he offered me as a man and as a member of the club.

“Got a minute, boss?” I asked as I leaned inside the office door.

“I’ve always got time for you, Vince,” Axton said as he closed the ledger.

“Headed to the bar with Toad,” Otis said as he stood from his seat.

“Otis,” I said as he began to walk toward the door.

“Vince,” he said with a nod of his head as he walked past.

“So what’s on your mind?” Axton asked.

“Just wondering about a few things,” I said.

“Flunked mind reading in school, Brother. You’re going to have to enlighten me,” he said as he leaned back in his chair.

“Got a question about a woman,” I said as I sat down across from him.

He snapped the rubber band he wore around his wrist a few times, more than likely subconsciously, inhaled a long slow breath through his nose, and then exhaled out his mouth. The process, for Axton, had become somewhat of a ritual.

“My thoughts on women have been made pretty clear. Don’t have much use for them, they can’t be trusted,” he said. “So what’s your question?”

“You think a man can be friends with a woman, or does it always turn to shit?” I asked.

He popped his rubber band once and leaned forward in his chair. “You got a woman friend, have ya, Vince?”

“Sure do. Just don’t want to hurt her, or have her expecting things of me. You know, things I’m not willing to give,” I said.

“So this is some girl who’s a friend, and you’re not throwing her any of that cock, right?” he asked.

“Right,” I said.

“And you’re not planning on changing that?” he asked.

“Not planning on it, no. It’ll just fuck things up. She’s cool as a fan, Boss. Drives a ‘65 Continental, she’s pretty as fuck, and kind of a mouthy little bitch, but not in a disrespectful way,” I said.

“Sounds interesting,” he said as he leaned back in his seat. “Well, you and her can be friends no doubt, and I wouldn’t tell all of the fellas this, believe me. You’re a weird fucker, Vince, and we both know it. I’m sure if you say you’re not going to give her any dick, you sure won’t. But I can tell you one thing for fucking sure…”

“What’s that?” I asked.

He rubbed his jaw between his thumb and his forefinger and lowered his chin as he locked his eyes on mine.

“There’ll come a day when she wants that dick. And it’ll be a deal breaker. Then you’ll have to decide for sure,” he said.

“Always comes to that, doesn’t it?” I asked blankly.

“Sure does,” he responded. “Damned sure does.”

“So how’s business?” he asked.

“Pretty good, thanks,” I responded.

“Face looks better now that it’s good and healed. Scars make you look more like a one percenter and less like a book reading hermit,” he said with a laugh.