Chapter 3 Collection

Mason stood there, his rag falling from his shaking hand onto the cold garage floor.

Victor kicked it toward his boots.

"Pick it up," Victor said. "You don't drop things in my garage."

Mason bent and picked it up fast.

"What does BLOOD mean?" Mason asked.

Victor stared at him. "You want to know? Come see what I do to people who think time is free."

He unlocked the big door. "Jax! Van!"

Jax came in from the main garage. Jax had never met Greg. As far as he knew, neither had anyone else in the club. Victor was the only one who knew who Mason's father really was.

"President?" Jax said.

"Ray's shop. He owes ten thousand. He was supposed to pay two thousand today. He already missed last two payments," Victor said. "Bring him." He pointed at Mason.

Mason followed them to the side lot. Black van, MORNINGSTAR small on the side. Jax got in driver seat. Victor yanked open the back door.

"Inside," Victor said to Mason.

Mason got in back. Victor got in after him, door slammed hard. Van pulled out fast.

For five minutes no one talked. Mason saw his building on 5th, second floor dark. He looked away.

Van stopped hard in front of Ray's Auto. Broken sign, cold shop, fat guy inside smoking over an unfinished Harley.

Jax got out first. Victor got out and pulled Mason out by elbow.

"Behind me," Victor said to Mason, hard. "You don't speak unless I tell you."

They walked in. Ray saw them and stood straight, hands up.

"Victor, give me until next week, I'll have five, I swear," Ray said fast.

"You said that last week," Victor said. "You were supposed to bring two thousand today. You already missed two payments before this."

"I know, I know, my customer didn't pay me, but he will Friday," Ray said, sweating. "I swear on my mother."

Victor walked around the Harley, kicked the front wheel. Bike wobbled.

Ray flinched. "Please, man, don't."

Ray's eyes slid to Mason behind Victor.

"Who's this?" Ray asked, trying to smile. "New kid?"

Mason stepped back half step.

Victor stepped between them, blocking Ray's view completely.

"Don't look at him," Victor said.

"I wasn't," Ray said quick.

"You were," Victor said. He put his hand on Mason's back, fingers digging in, shoving him forward into light. "Look at him now. He owes a hundred thousand. You owe ten. Tell him what happens when you don't pay."

Mason froze under Victor's hand.

"I... I don't know," Mason whispered.

"Tell him," Victor said to Ray, hand still tight on Mason's back.

Ray looked at Mason, scared. "They take your stuff, kid. Tools."

"Tell him what else," Victor said.

Ray looked at Victor. "More?"

Victor let go of Mason's back and grabbed Ray's desk drawer and ripped it out. Papers flew. No money.

"Where's my two thousand?" Victor asked.

Ray ran to back shelf, pulled envelope, threw it to Jax. Jax counted.

"Two thousand," Jax said.

Victor looked at envelope, then at Ray. "Two not ten. You were supposed to bring two today. You have two after missing two payments. So you still owe eight. Plus five late fee."

"Five late fee?" Ray said, eyes wide.

"Five thousand late fee," Victor said. "You miss Friday, you owe seven Friday. Two you still owe plus five fee."

Ray held his head. "Man, come on, I said I'll have five Friday!"

"I heard you," Victor said. He walked to compressor and kicked hose off. Air hissed loud. "And you heard me last week."

"Victor!" Ray shouted. "I said Friday! Why you still taking?"

"Because you said Friday last time," Victor said. He walked to lift controls and hit release. Lift dropped with crash. "Saying Friday doesn't make debt go away. Time costs."

Ray begged, "Please, President, I need that to work!"

"You need to pay to work," Victor said. He kept going even after Ray promised Friday. He pulled battery off Harley and tossed it to Jax. He pulled spark plugs, tossed them on floor, stepped on them. Crunch.

Ray stared, breathing hard. "Why you still taking? I said I'll pay Friday!"

"Because you said it last time," Victor said. "Next time you say Friday, fee goes up again."

Mason stood frozen, watching. Ten thousand and Victor stripped shop even after Ray promised five Friday. His hundred thousand - what would Victor take? He had nothing.

Victor turned and grabbed Mason's wrist, hard, silver rings biting.

"You see?" Victor said to Mason, face close. "Ray has a shop. A bike. Tools. Things I can take. You have none of that. So tell me, Mason. What exactly am I supposed to take from you?"

Mason's eyes watered. "You're hurting me."

"Good," Victor said. "You should hurt. You came here with papers worth nothing. You wasted my morning."

He dragged Mason out by wrist. Outside, Victor shoved Mason against van side, one hand on van above his head, caging him.

Jax loaded battery and compressor into van and got in front fast, looking away.

Mason's phone buzzed. Victor took it from his pocket before Mason could reach.

Victor read: YOU'RE FIRED. DON'T COME BACK.

Mason saw screen and his face dropped. His shoulders caved. He stared at words for two seconds, breathing hard, tears coming before he could stop them. That shop was fifteen an hour, his only reference, his only way to pay rent. Gone over text on his birthday.

Victor watched his reaction, then said, "Good."

Mason looked at him, crying now. "Good? I just lost my job."

"You have a job here," Victor said. "You pay me the hundred thousand with your work. Not money. You clean my bike at 5am. You count parts. You serve bar. You understand?"

Mason nodded, tears falling.

Victor grabbed Mason's jaw, forced him to look up, hard grip.

"Stop crying," Victor said. "Prospects don't cry."

Mason tried to stop.

Victor let go of jaw and grabbed shirt front, pulling him close. He looked at Mason with the same hard, possessive expression he'd worn all morning. There was nothing gentle about it.

"Ray looked at you like you were for sale," Victor said low, so only Mason could hear. "He looked at you like that because you're pretty and scared and you owe. Every man in this town will look at you like that now you have nothing outside. No job. No rent. No father."

"Why?" Mason asked, voice breaking.

"Because you walked in with his papers," Victor said. "Because you sat on my floor and said you wanted to clear his name when no one else did for twelve years."

He pushed Mason into van back seat. Mason fell in, wrist red, shirt twisted.

Victor got in next to him, slammed door.

"Jax, drive," Victor said.

Van drove back fast. Jax parked and got out and walked straight into garage without looking back.

Victor stayed in back with Mason. He grabbed Mason's wrist again and pulled him closer.

"You think you sleep in dorm?" Victor said. "Six beds, dirty, other prospects laughing? Ray saw you. Others will try to touch you like he tried."

Mason shook head.

"No," Victor said. "You're not dorm prospect. You're my debt. You don't sleep where anyone can get you."

He opened van door, pulled Mason out by wrist, dragging him across lot, past guard, past bar, up stairs to private room above bar where no prospect ever went. Door locked, black bed, clean, cold.

Victor shoved Mason inside and locked door behind them.

Mason stood in the middle of Victor's room, shaking. His prospect shirt hung too loosely from his shoulders. His wrist was red. His job was gone. His phone was still in the van. He owed a hundred thousand dollars.

And Victor stood between him and the door.

Victor looked at him, blocking exit.

"You stay in my room now," Victor said.