Chapter Ten
The Night-black Cadillac grumbled along the Freeway, cutting through the rain and puddles on the road. Jarrod sat in the passenger seat feeling nervous. It was a strange sensation and one he had experienced more in the last week than he could remember previously. Dids had ACDCs 'Dirty Deeds' playing on his stereo and refused to change it to the frustration of Breaks in the back seat.
They turned off the Freeway and cruised through the industrial area and finally up to the Clubhouse gates. Unlike, the last time he had visited, the place was humming with activity and noise.
Did's spoke into the intercom and the gates immediately began to roll back. The yard was filled with bikes and people, laughing and drinking. Did's rolled through the mass who parted for the old Chevy like water, though more than a few unfamiliar faces stared at Jarrod in the passenger seat as they went past.
Dids pulled up out the back of the clubhouse and parked. A group of older members appeared outside the car and Jarrod was quickly inundated with back slaps, handshakes and light ribbing about his increased size. Jarrod felt his nerves wash away with the welcome and he was soon being introduced to the newer members of the Riders, most of who seemed weary but happy enough to see him.
Breaks, appeared to be the friendlier of his two close mates, to the newer troupe and their obvious apprehension quickly disappeared with his lead. Breaks lead Jarrod into the clubhouse and it didn't look much better than when he last was in it...actually much worst without Ava about it. The bar was stacked though and the place bustling with members.
As he followed Breaks, Jarrod greeted all the older members warmly and introduced to those he didn't. Did's brought him over a bourbon as he shared a laugh with a few old mates.
Breaks pulled him away to move towards the couches and the huge TV that was showing the pregame entertainment. Jarrod instantly noted the group of Maori bikies sizing him up while they sat on the couches and tables around the main longue. They certainly looked battle-hardened with facial tattoos, scars and massive girths. They were all big boys and didn't seem the least bit pleased to see him.
"Eddie, this is Jarrod. Jarrod, this is Eddie."
Jarrod turned his attention to the man sitting centrally on the couch. Yes, this was definitely Eddie. He had a shaved head except for the short black Mohawk he had thrusting from his scalp. He did not wear a top to ensure everyone saw his muscular, tattooed torso. He was big, at least six three, but he was still dwarfed by Jarrod; they all were. Eddie's looked up at Jarrod and he was sure he saw a flicker of shock in his eyes before he regained his composure and stood to take Jarrod's hand. Eddie looked about himself, as if to remind himself that he had strong support, before turning back to Jarrod with a sinister, cocky grin and squeezed his grip. Jarrod squeezed harder and Eddie's tried hard to hid his obvious pain and he pulled his hand away, frowning.
"'The Butcher of Baronia' nice to have you home." Eddie smiled, his missing teeth made Jarrod think carnival stall. The Gang Leader made a show of looking at the top of Jarrod head, "I thought you'd have a halo or horns up there the way half the fuckers around here tell the story!"
The Haka's around him all chuckled and Eddie, slapped Jarrod on the arm. "You are a big fucker though, that much is true. I saw that video. Impressive, don't you think boys, impressive!" he said looking around his group who all nodded and murmured in affirmation.
"So how much did you pay them?"
"What?!" Jarrod frowned down at him.
Eddie moved back to sit on the couch, "They were obvious actors surely. No one fights that badly on purpose!" he chuckled. Jarrod's frown deepened. "Next time, find someone who actually knows how to throw a punch!" The Haka's all laughed darkly.
Breaks forced a laugh and squeezed Jarrod's shoulder "He's only pulling your leg Big Fella. It's that right Eddie?!"
"If you say so Breaks but anyway, come and sit down 'Butcher'."
He shooed one of his group off the couch to make way and snatched up a beer.
Jarrod paused, still fucking annoyed, but then reluctantly took a breath and sat down. The couch creaking under his weight.
"So, Breaks here said you like your 'Bloods'. Is, that right?" Jarrod nodded. "I'm a Pies man myself though Ruddy is a fucking legend I'll give you that. Some of these blokes knew his old man. He's a Sheepfucker too. Hey Dory, drinks over here!" Eddie yelled the last to the bartender before continuing.
"I respect what you did for this Gang, man, back in the day. Going to prison revenging Hog will never be forgotten. Cheers" Eddie lifted his bottle and everyone around him did likewise. He stood then and yelled out -- "Welcome back Butcher!". The whole clubhouse repeated the shout in a loud chorus and Jarrod stood and raised his own glass to thank them before both sat down the conversations around the room continued.
Jarrod felt uncomfortable sitting on the couch with this man after learning the way he treated Ava plus Hammer's strong suspicions of his betrayal. Having another scan of the room he realised he just plain hated to see what Eddie had allowed happening to this gang. He had grown up here. Seen it when it had ten times as many members. It had been more than just a bikkie gang; it had been a refugee for so many. A place where you knew you mattered. It had been the only reason he was still alive today. Hog, the old club president, had effectively raised him and tempered the out-of-control beast he was becoming as a teen. When Hog was executed, Jarrod snapped. He had almost killed every last member of that gang, half with his own hands...but it hadn't brought back Hog, it hadn't protected his family.
"Who'd thinks they know who's going to win this one?" Eddie asked, nodding towards the TV. Jarrod looked up; Saints v Demons. "Saints," he stated.
