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clubhouse, locked me in, and made me get clean. When I got right, they never let me near their productā€”or anyone elseā€™sā€”again. The Bastards were grateful for what Iā€™d done. I killed the guy, they said. I donā€™t remember it on account of beinā€™ in a blackout rage. The next thing I knew, I was a prospect and then gettinā€™ patched out. I never slept on the streets again and finally had a family.

It was no secret that Iā€™d been a pubic hair away from becominā€™ a priest. I mean, I was a long way from slippinā€™ into a collar, but in the scheme of things, I was a hang-around who was thinkinā€™ long and hard about becominā€™ a full priestly patch. Clearly, that wasnā€™t my callinā€™.

Giovanni was dead. Crucifix was alive and had everything he wantedā€”except her.

Then came the day when Fi saw me out on the street. We recognized the grown-up versions of each other immediately. She was wearinā€™ a habit and I was a proud member of the Rotten Apple chapter, wearinā€™ my rag, covered in tattoos, slidinā€™ onto my bike. We tried to ignore what we saw, but it was too late. When she came over and started in about whatā€™d happened, I flew off the handle and everything came spewing out.

A brand new kinda Hell began with that one glance. I was gonna have her, die tryinā€™, or lose my fuckinā€™ mind from lovinā€™ her.

1

New York Groove

Years later . . .

It was great to be back in the City after all that time in La-La Land. Too many palm trees and not enough hustle could make a New Yorker lose his fuckinā€™ mind. I had to be sparing with that shit ā€˜cause there wasnā€™t a whole lot left.

Royal Bastards Video was rockinā€™ and FOCUS and Nixx were gettinā€™ all their bullshit worked out. I was just glad to be back in my own territory. Blayze and them guys had been really cool about us beinā€™ out there and knew we werenā€™t tryinā€™ to step on their dicks, but stillā€”it wasnā€™t the Big Rotten Apple. It wasnā€™t the Mounds Bar with our tits and asses shakinā€™ under the black lights. As I pulled up in front, it looked like I had a welcome home party goinā€™ on. All the guysā€™ bikes were parked in front and Rattler was bouncinā€™ since FOCUS was still on the left coast. I barely made it off the bike before he and Froot Loops ran over to hug me.

ā€œBrother, man! Itā€™s been too fuckinā€™ long!ā€ Rattler smacked at my back. ā€œDo you even remember what real food tastes like after beinā€™ out there? I know there ainā€™t nothinā€™ good in Hollywood.ā€

It was the Godā€™s honest. Thereā€™s no food like New York City food, no matter what the fuck ya say. Iā€™d been dyinā€™ for a bagel loaded with scallion cream cheese, bacon, and egg. I woulda gladly settled for some stupid dirty water dogs from the vendor on our corner. Los Angeles had some good shit happeninā€™, but food wasnā€™t on the list.

ā€œYouā€™re tellinā€™ me! Iā€™m surprised I havenā€™t wasted the fuck away to nothinā€™! A man cannot survive on pussy alone, and I donā€™t give a fuck who tries to say different.ā€

I slapped hands with Froot Loops and headed toward the door. I needed to eat, get my dick sucked, and have someone without too much glitter tuck me in with a nightcap. Jet lag was gonna be a bitch.

ā€œHey, can one of ya get Cassie to order me a calzone and a stuffed spinach slice from Tonyā€™s around the corner? Rattler . . . you do it, broā€™, since youā€™re the one who brought up food!ā€

ā€œFuck you, man! Tell her yourself!ā€

I glared back at Rattler. Heā€™d been doinā€™ my job and FOCUSā€™ when we were out west, but he needed to remember his place.

ā€œYo, donā€™t forget yourself, motherfucker! I was gone. I didnā€™t die. So unless you know somethinā€™ I donā€™t, Iā€™m still the president and you didnā€™t magically step into my boots. Get on it, VP. Iā€™ll be in the office.ā€

Heā€™d get over it. Rattler always thinks way too much of himself, and that can be an issue sometimes. I was back and still wore the presidentā€™s patch. He wasnā€™t gonna step into my spot or FOCUSā€™ as sergeant at arms. He was lucky we didnā€™t kick him off the board entirely. The shit with him dealinā€™ to his girls and all that fucked-up Vicious mess had him skatinā€™ on thin ice.

A few of the chicks ran up to hug me and Rock Candy brought over a bottle of somethinā€™ and two glasses. Looks like sheā€™s the one tendinā€™ to me tonight.

Even gettinā€™ back to the same olā€™ pussy was good. New York chicks arenā€™t plasticā€”except for some noses and tits. They know what I like and are more than happy to give it to me, even if it is sorta kinky. If one of our girls wouldnā€™t get into my shit, sheā€™d always be a tiny infraction away from gettinā€™ the boot. I didnā€™t need a different bitch every night. I just needed to know if I said kneel, theyā€™d drop like a lead weight. Patience was somethinā€™ I didnā€™t have a lot of when I was horny, and if I picked someone, they needed to be ready.

Rock Candy knew how it worked and called back on her way to the dressinā€™ room, ā€œIā€™ve been very sinful while you were gone, Crucifix . . . . I need to confess somethinā€™ really awful.ā€

She giggled and pushed through the door to Transformation Stationā€”the girlsā€™ dressinā€™ room.

Fuck, I donā€™t need all that shit tonight. Suck my dick and lemme get some sleep.

As soon as she walked out with the nun costume, I grabbed her arm. ā€œSorry, kid. Not tonight. I

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