Page 1 of Haze
The air outside the compound smelled like grilled meats and bad decisions. Haze grinned as he walked out of the compound and stretched his arms out wide. The neighborhood had changed a lot from when he was growing up. It used to be an uppity white neighborhood, but since Haze had renovated his childhood home into the compound for his motorcycle club, the neighborhood had gotten a bit of color to it. Now, instead of white people who turned their noses up at all the motorcycles on the lawn, there were cool ass Latinas, Jamaicans, and Italians from the mob that liked to come kick it every now and again.
The Vicious Kings Motorcycle Club welcomed the company, as long as they kept it cool, and that day was shaping up to be acool ass day. VK hosted a block party every year, and today was the day.
“Got it smellin’ good as hell,” Haze said as he walked up on his best friend, Gideon, and slapped him on the shoulder.
Haze was considered a tall ass nigga, but Gideon was a damn giant. He would never admit it, but Haze secretly knew Gideon could whup his ass if it ever came to it. Shit, all the nigga would have to do was sit on Haze, and it would be game over. It would never come to that, though. Since they were kids, Gideon had always been a gentle giant. He took care of the people he loved and would never harm them.
“You know I don’t play about my food,” Gideon said.
“Nah, Glimmer don’t play about her food, and you a sucka just wantin’ to make her happy,” Haze corrected as he pulled a fresh blunt from his ear and sparked it.
He got his nickname, Haze, from his father, Henry Senior. As a junior, they struggled with what to call Haze at first. He’d always been rowdy, even as a baby, and the only time he calmed down was when someone sparked up that good shit and blew it into the air. His nickname, Haze, came into play after his father figured out it was the only way his son would sit the hell down and mellow out.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ wantin’ my wife to be happy,” Gideon responded as he moved some chicken off the grill into an aluminum pan.
Haze snorted. “Couldn’t ever be me.”
He slapped Gideon on the back and took a long pull of his blunt. Though he loved this annual block party, there was no way he could make it without some Mary Jane in his system.
“Prez, you got more tables you need us to put up?” Pup asked. He was the youngest member of the Vicious Kings and Haze’s protégé.
Haze looked around the front yard and shook his head. Only the Vicious Kings would be allowed to sit at the tables in front of the compound. Everyone else knew to set up their own seating, so the four long tables and chairs they had set out would be more than enough. “Nah, we good. Y’all can help G on the grill, though. People gonna start showin’ up in ’bout an hour.”
He walked over to the row of bikes and took in the neighborhood. He saw a few people out in their own lawns setting up. Haze waved casually as he took another pull from his blunt. His racing thoughts relaxed as he gazed at all the shiny bikes that had just been detailed. The block party was a time for them to show off their best toys, so everyone always made sure their shit was clean and fresh.
He smiled as he thought about this motorcycle club he and Gideon built from the ground up. These niggas were his family, and tonight was all about celebrating them and getting into some trouble—his favorite thing to do.
“No bullshit tonight, unless I’m the one causing it,” he called out into the open air before pulling on his blunt again.
Yeah, tonight was about to be one for the books. He could feel it.
Devyn
“How the hell does it smell more like weed than barbeque?” Devyn’s face scrunched up as they navigated through the thick crowd with no destination in mind.
“Will you chill the absolute fuck out?” Koren glanced back at her cousin with a frown on her pretty face.
Devyn rolled her brown eyes framed by mink false lashes. This was not her scene, but as they always did, her cousin Koren and her best friend, Emilia, forced her out of the comfort of her home to party.
Emilia linked her arm through Devyn’s and cheesed in her best friend’s face. “Come on, Dev. Loosen up. Look at all these fine men out here. How can you be grumpy with all this prime meat running around?”
Devyn snorted. “I don’t give a fuck about none of these niggas. I want to be at home, reading my Kindle and sipping on some wine. Hell, it looks like all the food is gone, anyway. We got here late as hell.”
Koren sighed. She stopped walking, her red bottom sneakers scraping against the concrete. “We got here late because nobody shows up to a damn block party on time. Emmy is right. You need to lighten up, pooh.”
Believe it or not, Devyn was trying to lighten up. Everything about this environment made her uneasy, though. She didn’t know these people, and she felt overstimulated in this sea of people who were drinking, smoking, and dancing the night away. She briefly wondered how the cops hadn’t come through yet and shut all this shit down, but they finally broke through into a small clearing from the crowd, and her thoughts immediately switched.
Her eyes landed on what looked like a hundred motorcycles neatly lined on a large lawn. She knew this block party was hosted by some motorcycle club, but she hadn’t expected the bikes to be so high end and quality.Thatwas something she could get behind.
“Look at her. Sees some kind of car or motorcycle and all of a sudden, she’s relaxed,” Koren joked, poking Devyn in her side.
Devyn swatted Koren away. The two of them were like night and day but still grew up as cousins and best friends. Koren wasa girly girl to the highest degree and a wild child. She was a year older than Devyn, but anyone that spent five minutes with them would think Devyn was older.
It was all in the way they were raised. Devyn’s father was the big brother of Koren’s mother. Auntie Nina was spoiled. She was the best auntie, and Devyn loved her down, but because Nina was the baby of the family, she got whatever she wanted handed to her. Devyn’s father, on the other hand, worked his ass off to create a good life for himself and his family. That work ethic was handed down to Devyn.
While Koren spent her days getting her nails done, gossiping, and partying, Devyn spent her time soaking knowledge up from her father so she could take over the luxury car dealership he owned.
“Shush, KK,” Devyn said, calling her cousin by the nickname she’d used since they were in diapers. Her eyes stayed fixed on a particular bike. It was black-on-black matte, and Devyn knew for a fact that thing cost well over three hundred thousand dollars with all the custom additions.
