Parson (Scorned Devils MC 3)

Parson (Scorned Devils MC 3)
J. Hali Steele
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2024 J. Hali Steele

Parson

Calmness was the keystone of Parson's life.

Today he sat beside his cousin, Mark, in a pew near the back of The Church of the Trinity Episcopal church, praying to find rekindle that trait. "I'm not asking for confession, and I don't need a priest."

Mark Turner was a deacon and while he could hear confession, only the priest could give absolution. Parson didn't need that. "I'm not seeking the sacrament, because I've not done anything I regret."

The deaths of the Bayside Specter president and VP had been a necessity, a matter of survival, and Pars experienced no remorse over the sordid affair.

"Good, because Father Tyson is preparing for Sunday service." Mark stared. "What do you want, Randall? Sorry, you prefer Parson."

"Right. Nothing, man. I'm torn about the relationship I'm in. Or was in."

"You're not living with -- what's his name, Langston? -- anymore?"

"No." Pars had done the one thing Langston Gillman would never accept. "He's being unreasonable."

"Have you spoke truthfully with him regarding your feelings?"

Mark was aware -- hell, the whole family knew -- Parson was openly gay. None held his relationships as a sin, believing his love life was between him and God.

"Does he know you love him?"

"No." Parson twisted on the hard bench to better see Mark. "What makes you say that?"

"Lord help me. You're thirty-one and you've never been in a relationship this long. What else could it be?"

Parson ignored Mark's comment because, damn, Parson hadn't thought about that. Yeah, he cared greatly for Lang, but love? "He kicked me out."

"Let me guess -- because you belong to the motorcycle club that runs around, or as some believe, runs, the city of Coatesville."

"He doesn't like that I'm a member of the Scorned Devils MC, but I can't allow him to dictate who I can hang out and be friends with. Because of his feelings, I put off patching." Parson picked at his fingernails. "Done playing games. I am who I am. Patched last week."

"I see."

Sunday parishioners started entering. Parson still needed to see Dread and talk about meeting with the city officials at Cutters tomorrow regarding plans for the Christmas toy drive. "Hey, thanks for letting me vent."

"Wish you weren't an only child." Mark sighed. "Not sure I was much help, but if you ever need to talk to someone aside from..."

"They're my brothers, Mark. They'd never see harm come to me."

"That's what concerns me. What lengths would your brothers go to in keeping you safe? I'm not blind to what happens with motorcycle clubs, Pars." Mark stood. "I've heard about unsavoriness taking place in our community."

Talk of the Specters' bikes being destroyed at the Midway and rumors behind the incident had finally died down. There were other disputes, and if the perpetrators were wrong, yeah, they got beat down. Without knowing what his cousin might have heard, Parson couldn't claim all the stories were lies. He wasn't going to get in to it now. Glancing down at his watch, Parson headed for the door. "Damn, Mark, I gotta run."

When Parson reached Hell's Lair, the gate sprung open immediately. Damn Spinner, anyway. He was always on the computer, watching the comings and goings of everyone. Shit, it was Spin's turn to keep an eye out for unusual activity around the Scorned Devils MC compound. Spin hadn't come back to his place last night which, meant he'd camped out in the loft. As annoying as Spinner could be, he kept Parson's thoughts from drifting to Langston.

Parson spied Dread with his feet propped on the desk as he entered the office. "Hey, man. What's up?"

"Nothing much." Dread scrutinized Parson. "You're early for a Sunday."

Pars usually hit the clubhouse after church. Today, he'd skipped services. "I was hoping to talk to you before you got busy." Sitting across from Dread, he sighed loudly. "Is there another place we can hold meetings with the city council?"

"For years those fuckers have let us do the all the organizing for this event. Mostly they sit at meetings pretending they want to be there. They take credit at the end of the parade when all we get to say is -- Santa Claus has come to town." Dread studied Pars. "Hey, it's for the less fortunate children. Shit, we're the local MC some of those same members would like to see disappear. Don't really want them in my restaurant unless they're paying customers, but it is what it is, Pars. Sure as hell not having them here if that's what you're insinuating."

"Wouldn't expect that, but there are other places in town."

"None I want to be involved with."

"Look, Dread, Cutters is..."

"Langston is off on Sundays and Mondays. You won't have to deal with any shit."

Parson's chest deflated when he relaxed against the chair back. He wasn't sure Dread noticed. "Great."

Standing, the VP walked to the office door and closed it. "No need for everyone to hear your business."

Fuck, Pars was going to get an earful.

"I don't know what happened and I don't really give a damn. I know Langston's been a prick this last month." He stood right in front of Pars. "I see the fire in your eyes but I'm not the one you want to go toe to toe with today, or any day, about me calling a prick a prick. He's been hell to deal with." Backing up a step, he glared. "Fuck Langston. Or don't. Whatever you choose, straighten your shit out because not every meet will be held on Monday. We have to consider the needs of a lot of people. If you can't handle this, let me know now."

"I got this."

"Perfect."

Pars got up to leave but Dread stopped him. "Another MC is joining us. They don't have a drive where they are."

"Who?"

"The Immoral Sinners out of Harrisburg."

"Don't know any of them well, but I do hear they are unruly as hell."

"Yeah, I know. They're small, but troublesome."