In a world where I had no say, violence became my refuge, and nothing else mattered. Not even my own life.
It all started the first time I heard that voice. Giving me hope for tomorrow. My first love was everything all at once.
Except, I never imagined there were secrets that needed to be shared. Lies that needed to be confessed. Truths that needed to be told. Demons that needed to be buried. Once I realized the depth, the longing, the sadness and sorrow in her eyes mirrored mine, it was too late. Love didn’t come to me as heartbreak, it came as everything I’ve ever wanted. Walking away wasn’t an option, but it was the only choice I had.
I finally found the price of love and it cost me…
My soul.Books by Author:M. Robinson Books
I jumped on my dirt bike in a hurry, wasting no time to pull back the clutch and kick-start the engine. My hand jerked the throttle as the motor revved to life, rumbling beneath me. The smell of exhaust immediately filled the humid summer air while the bike idled in neutral.
I"d been riding since I could walk. It was part of being a Jameson, and my old man wouldn"t have it any other way. He"d shit a brick if he ever saw any of his three sons on anything other than two wheels with wicked horsepower. Reminding us all too often that we were Jameson men and real men only ride Harleys and women, rough and hard. So until the day my older brother Luke and I were old enough to have our own Harleys, like our oldest brother Creed, dirt bikes would have to do.
I leaned forward, gunning the engine a few more times before holding down the accelerator and front brake to do one hell of a burnout. Finally releasing it and hauling ass off of school grounds. Making sure to leave a nice little trail of dirt and rubber in my wake as I saw Principal Salisbury running out of the building in my mirror.
"Noah, you get back here right now! You hear me"!" he shouted in the distance.
I lifted my middle finger in the air, giving him a friendly gesture in response. There was nothing I loved more than to stir up trouble at school. I hated being there, especially now because it was summer school. It was just another place I was being told what I could and couldn"t do, and I already had no say in my life to begin with. I learned early on that if I raised hell at school, I"d get suspended or expelled, and I wouldn"t be allowed to step foot on school grounds, period. Which was exactly what I wanted.
You see, I was born into a world where no matter what, violence solved everything. It was the answer to every question, the solution to every problem, the consequence to every action delivered by none other than my father. I sure as hell blame him for the man I would eventually become.
I was born into this so-called family.
I was born to the devil"s son.
The President of the mother chapter of Devil"s Rejects Motorcycle Club in Southport, North Carolina. I"d be twelve-years-old in a few weeks, and I was already such a little shit with a sharp tongue and wise-ass attitude. Feeling and looking much older than I actually was. I may have only been a kid, but you sure as shit couldn"t tell me that. Bred to not take shit from anyone, it was beaten into us and the only way of life in my father"s eyes. The only way to survive. There were no other options. Surrounded by a family, a brotherhood of ruthless men whose only enemy was the law. Wearing their 1% patches proudly like I would have to wear one day.
Whether I wanted to or not.
My last name, Jameson, made sure of it.
Raising hell while we ride or die was our only code growing up and living in the MC life.
I sped through the grass, busting a sharp right onto one of my favorite trails. Ducking and dodging trees, listening to the motor accelerate up and down, faster and faster, around and around. Tracking from one side to another in nothing but mud and debris from the recent storm we had. I could see the sun up ahead through the tree clearing, showing me I was almost to the old, broken-down bridge that crossed over the Cape Fear River near my school. It was known for its heavy and strong ass current, and if you swam out far enough, it could haul even the biggest man under, which was how the river got its name in the first place. It was deceiving, but that didn"t stop people from swimming and hanging out in the murky water without a care in the world.
I rode up to the edge of the bridge to judge the distance across the vast space and to look around for any cops that may have been hiding on the ridge. I shut off the engine when all of a sudden I overheard a voice singing, "The sun"ll come out tomorrow, bet all those dollars that tomorrow. There"ll be sun shining bright and happiness. Just thinkin" about tomorrow," coming from the river surrounding the bridge.
My eyes instantly shifted to the girl floating on her back in the water, wearing one of those two-piece bathing suits all the girls wore on the beach. Hers was hot pink. I don"t know how long I stared at her, but it was the calm look on her face as she belted out the lyrics, "Just thinkin" about tomorrow. Clears away the sadness, the rain, and the emptiness. Till it"s not there," that had me narrowing my eyes. Getting lost in her peacefulness and her raspy, distinctive voice, it was an expression and sound I"d never experienced before.