Chapter 8: Bags and Box
*Fight in a ring and you can get a title. Fight on the street and you can get a charge. – Text from Taz to Knuckles
It was Saturday night, and Taz had a fight. Once she was back home, she called Knuckles and let him know that she placed and moved up the rankings and because of that, she had another fight in two weeks. She returned to work on Tuesday, makeup hiding the last few bruises. She doubled down on her workouts and sparring. Then came the weekend of her fight.
Not only did she move up in rankings, she won her first headlining semi-pro fight, by a technicality, but she was grateful for the win. She had three weeks before the next fight against one of the top contenders in the state.
Wednesday afternoon of the second week, Taz returned to the house that she rented with two other girls to find cops and the landlady out front. She was usually only there to sleep and shower and had very little contact with her roommates.
Taz gave permission for the police to search her, the pickup and all her belongings. She was asked about submitting to a drug test and laughed to herself. Using her phone, she pulled the results from the test before her last fight, then called and gave the lab permission to release all of her results. Afterwards she asked if an additional test was needed since she was already scheduled for one in a week.
The investigating officer chuckled and thanked her for her time.
Unfortunately, she could not afford the rent on her own. Even for a short period. Quickly she packed up her uniforms, gym clothes, regular clothes and her few personal items. Two duffle bags and a half empty box. With her life shoved into the back seat of her pickup, she headed to the only place she could think of.
There were a bunch of guys sitting around the first floor of the Shack. Ignoring the catcalls, she scanned the room for her cousin. When he wasn’t found, she hoped to find a brother that she recognized. Then she heard a familiar voice, sober this time.
“Hello, pretty.”
“Hey, Molly. Is Knuckles around?” she asked him as she turned to face him.
“No, pretty, he’s out on a run. Anything that I can help you with?” Molly grinned at her.
Swearing quietly, Taz looked at her watch. She pulled out her phone and called her cousin. There was no answer so she called her uncle. As that call also rolled to voicemail, she heard a voice that made her smile. Turning, she saw her other cousin.
“Hey Scrapper. Have your balls dropped yet?” she asked and the whole place went silent.
Anger crossed his face until he turned and saw Taz grinning at him. A great big smile broke out across his face. “Anyone else say some shit like that and I’d kick their ass.”
“I’d kick it for you.” She teased back walking towards him and the hug he offered. There were only a few months between them and although they were close, she was not as close to him as she was to Knuckles. He hugged her tightly and rested his chin on her head.
“By the way, congratulations. I hear that your doing really good.”
“Yeah, life was going really good up until about an hour ago.” She stepped away as her frustration started to build again.
“What made life quit going so good? And where are you staying at?”
Taz laughed dryly. “The answer to the second is the cause for the first.”
Scrapper crossed his arms. “Jasmine Marie Olsen. Where are you living.”
Imitating his stance, she replied, “Samuel Anthony Olsen. Thanks to my drug dealing roommates for the Brotherhood, I got evicted. And before you start, I did not know that they were even affiliated until I saw one of Pistol's henchmen in handcuffs in my front yard. I may have said seven words to both roommates in the four months they lived there. But right now, I need to get to work and turn into a dyke’s wet dream. I have some time in the morning if you’d like to yell at me.”
“Don’t sass me, Taz!” Scrapper warned clenching his fists at his sides. Taz stepped into his space clenching her fists and bowing up to him.
“You two in my office now.” Toad commanded. When neither of them moved he looked over at Molly and Riffraff and motioned for them to get to the two. Molly grabbed Scrapper as Riffraff grabbed for Taz. She pulled her punch right before she made contact.
“Taz!” Scrapper yelled and she relaxed.
“Sorry.” Taz said dropping her fist and moving towards Toad’s office.
Once inside, Toad closed the door on the five of them. He sat behind his desk and glared at the two cousins who now sat opposite him.
“First off, I don’t appreciate little girls swinging at my brothers.”
“She fights competitively-" Scrapper started to defend her.
“He’s right.” Taz said cutting her cousin off. “I was out of line. No matter how frustrated and irritated I am, I am a professional fighter and need to have better control over myself.” She met Toad’s eyes firmly. “I’m sorry for any disrespect that I showed you, your brothers and your club.”
Toad took a moment to consider what she said and nodded in acknowledgement, accepting her apology. She nodded back at him and turned around to face Riffraff.
“I’m sorry for nearly punching the fuck out of you. It was uncalled for and the anger I feel is not directed at you.”
“Would not have been the first time an angry woman hit me.” Riffraff admitted with a wink. “But thank you.”
“Scrapper,” Toad focused on the other cousin, “I know that you and Knuckles throw fists at each other easily, but if you really want to take your dad’s position as president, you need to learn to control yourself better.”
“Yes, sir.” Scrapper said.
“Where do you work?”
“I’m a waitress at the Shell. I can’t miss any work. My fights are always on weekends. The agreement was that I worked every day except the day of a fight and the next two.” Taz said getting nervous.
“Molly, text Sledge and let him know that Taz, is that right?” He asked, not used to the nickname, she nodded a confirmation. “Taz will not be in tonight. Riffraff, text Pistol. I want to see him here in thirty minutes or I’m sending some of my biggest blackest guys to get him.”
The Saints have gone straight, most everything was now legal, most, but not completely. They had an agreement with the Brotherhood as to what would and would not be tolerated in any town ran by the Saints. Every so often, a new member would want to make a name for himself, all it did was cause problems for the Brotherhood. Toad did not tolerate it. And with what the Saints could do, and had done, the Brotherhood did not tolerate it either.
Before the last president, Patch, stepped down, he had acquired some interesting information about Pistol. Specifically, that he had a biracial daughter. Not something that the president of the local Arian Brotherhood MC should have. The Saints helped ensure that Pistol remained president while his secret and daughter were safe. In return, Pistol made sure that the Saints towns remained fairly clean.
Less than thirty minutes later Pistol was in the office. The two goons that accompanied him were taken to the bar and given a single free drink. Served by none other than Blessing, a very beautiful African woman, whose accent was still very thick.
Riffraff stayed inside the office, Molly stood guard outside and Scrapper was sent on his way.
“Pistol, this is Jasmine, she’s under our protection. She got kicked out of her house earlier.”
“How is that my concern?” Pistol asked looking at Taz.
Taz met his gaze, something about his blue eyes made her want to shudder. He was the perfect Arian Brotherhood president. Tall, pale, blonde, blue eyes and racist as hell. He sneered at Taz and she decided that it must be the coldness in his eyes that she did not like.
Toad nodded at Taz and she began to speak. “I rented a room from Mrs. Fletcher over on Elm Avenue. The other two rooms were rented by two friends who I think I met once or twice before. Tonight, they were arrested for selling meth out of the house. They were also arrested with Butch.”
Pistol swore under his breath.
“We have an agreement.”
“He’s only been a prospect for 30 days. He’s done.”
“See to it. Riff, get her settled into a room. Pistol and I have a few more things to discuss.”
Really? He put her in the room across from his? – Toad