Post by Cullen Montoya on Aug 10, 2014 16:56:55 GMT -6
Nothing good can last forever.
Those were the words Cullen's mother used to always tell him. He was usually yelling about his father when she said them, but the words were true about a lot of things. Like Sturgis. The bands had all come and gone, the celebrities had all returned to their million-dollar mansions, and the normal folk were heading back to their mundane existences. The same was true for the club. Everything was getting packed up in preparation for the trip back to Cali.
It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing he probably wouldn't be seeing a lot of these people until next year's rally. If that. He wasn't about to start kidding himself. With everything waiting for them back home, it would be a small miracle for Cullen to end up back at next year's rally. He would most likely end up dead or in prison long before then.
He watched as the SUV carrying Trei, Brook, and Dawn headed toward the interstate to take the three of them to the airport. That weight he had felt looming over his head finally settled itself firmly across his shoulders. Trei was one of the few people that Cullen counted on, and even though he was recovering wonderfully, he was still going to be out of commission for a while. Dawn was going back to New York, and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it. She had made promises. With Luey being busy with his music career, that left a lot of the responsibility for keeping the Soldiers together on Cullen. All the mistakes he seems to keep making, Cullen wasn't so sure he could do it. He would never say it, but his confidence was shot. He wasn't sure how he could get it back.
The only thing he feels like he has done lately is dealing with the Irish. They had just made their first big deal the other night, substantially increasing the club's firepower. It would take a lot of work put everything together, and finding a place to keep their stash but maybe that was something Trei could start working on that problem. But Cullen was no fool. Things were going well with the Irish at the moment because of Dawn and her connections. They would just as soon kill him as work with him.
All of those thoughts were forced from his head for a time being when he saw the signal from Luey that it was time to go. The two of them mounted their bikes and rode out at the front of the pack. Keeping to the same plan, the two men coordinated together to navigate the club back across the country toward Cali. Showing their level of trust in each other, they would change routes on-the-fly with nothing more than a look or a nod. No progress had been made to discover how the Russians knew what route they were taking out of Los Angeles, so they had no choice but to play it close to the chest.
The trip would take a bit longer, but there was no surprises this time around. It wasn't until late Sunday evening that the club finally made it back to LA, feeling a bit exhausted from all the time on the road but otherwise in one piece. Once they arrived back at the clubhouse, everybody dispersed in a flurry of activity to unpack and go about their business.
Cullen watched for moment before his gaze turned back toward the city itself, placing his hands on his hips. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen next, but he was sure of one thing. It was time he started taking the offensive.
Those were the words Cullen's mother used to always tell him. He was usually yelling about his father when she said them, but the words were true about a lot of things. Like Sturgis. The bands had all come and gone, the celebrities had all returned to their million-dollar mansions, and the normal folk were heading back to their mundane existences. The same was true for the club. Everything was getting packed up in preparation for the trip back to Cali.
It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing he probably wouldn't be seeing a lot of these people until next year's rally. If that. He wasn't about to start kidding himself. With everything waiting for them back home, it would be a small miracle for Cullen to end up back at next year's rally. He would most likely end up dead or in prison long before then.
He watched as the SUV carrying Trei, Brook, and Dawn headed toward the interstate to take the three of them to the airport. That weight he had felt looming over his head finally settled itself firmly across his shoulders. Trei was one of the few people that Cullen counted on, and even though he was recovering wonderfully, he was still going to be out of commission for a while. Dawn was going back to New York, and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it. She had made promises. With Luey being busy with his music career, that left a lot of the responsibility for keeping the Soldiers together on Cullen. All the mistakes he seems to keep making, Cullen wasn't so sure he could do it. He would never say it, but his confidence was shot. He wasn't sure how he could get it back.
The only thing he feels like he has done lately is dealing with the Irish. They had just made their first big deal the other night, substantially increasing the club's firepower. It would take a lot of work put everything together, and finding a place to keep their stash but maybe that was something Trei could start working on that problem. But Cullen was no fool. Things were going well with the Irish at the moment because of Dawn and her connections. They would just as soon kill him as work with him.
All of those thoughts were forced from his head for a time being when he saw the signal from Luey that it was time to go. The two of them mounted their bikes and rode out at the front of the pack. Keeping to the same plan, the two men coordinated together to navigate the club back across the country toward Cali. Showing their level of trust in each other, they would change routes on-the-fly with nothing more than a look or a nod. No progress had been made to discover how the Russians knew what route they were taking out of Los Angeles, so they had no choice but to play it close to the chest.
The trip would take a bit longer, but there was no surprises this time around. It wasn't until late Sunday evening that the club finally made it back to LA, feeling a bit exhausted from all the time on the road but otherwise in one piece. Once they arrived back at the clubhouse, everybody dispersed in a flurry of activity to unpack and go about their business.
Cullen watched for moment before his gaze turned back toward the city itself, placing his hands on his hips. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen next, but he was sure of one thing. It was time he started taking the offensive.