Thread: SAMOK (EveningSky & G23)

Ezra watched her go with the same cold anger burning even hotter as she approached his siblings and gave the candy. Janice squealed and the girls all thanked Samantha repeatedly, then gasped at the offer to come visit Samantha at her house. They had all wanted to go see the Beckett house, and everyone wanted to meet Mrs. Beckett, Samantha's mom, who, except maybe for their own mama, was supposed to be the prettiest woman in Oklahoma, . They leapt to their feet and hugged Samantha's legs then said goodbye, and assuring her they would ask their parents to go over to the Becketts for a visit. Ezra heard it all and his eyes only grew more dangerous. Before he could say anything about it though, the unmistakable sound of his grandfather's motorcycles. Girls. They had heard too and grabbed their things, then joined their brother. Outside the school twelve large Harley's rumbled so loud and hard it shook the very pavement, each mounted with large powerfully muscled men, including 'Red' Willowfoot. He was Ezra in fifty years. Tall massively built, dark of skin, still handsome even through his thick hair, beard and mustache, and with the same cold blue eyes. He sat his Harley like a throne, the chopped roaring even as it idling. His reflective sunglasses were up on his brow as he smiled at his three granddaughters who rushed to him and kiss his cheek, then went to other bikes with sidecars as they were too small to ride on the back. Ezra went to the big man, gazing into his eyes unafraid. Red, his real name was Di, the Navajo word for blood, stood still a few inches taller than his grandson. Ezra spoke softly. Samantha Beckett made friends with the girls Pops. She invited them to their house. I thought you should know. Red nodded studying the boy. Make you mad? She touched me. Trying to tell me Ruthie needed help. Why? The boys are icky thing. Red rolled his eyes and turned his head to look at Ruthie who was now braiding the hair of the man driving the cycle she shared, one of her many uncles. She doesn't seem to mind us. 'We're family Pops. Fair point. Why did that make you mad? You know why. Red laughed. I guess I do. Alright so she talked to you and touched you. So? She was interfering. Another white girl trying to prove she knows everything about us poor Indians. Red laughed again. Doubt it. Probably just like her mom. Trying to help. Just the way they both are. Better than her dad and granddad wouldn't you say? Ezra did not answer. Red growled. I asked you a question boy. Yessir. Good. Now let's go home. Red stepped over his bike and settled into the seat. Ezra tightened the straps of his pack, then stepped onto the back clutching the grip bars along the seat. No one held Red when he rode. Ezra studied the large Reaper patch on the back of his grandfather's cut, with SONS OF ANARCHY over the reaper and OKLAHOMA below. His grandfather also had President and Unholy One on his right breast, and Oklahoma on the left. Wilmington rode on the left side, and Oklahoma on the ride, both just above the hem of the leather vest. His grandfather was the founding member of the Oklahoma charter of the infamous Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle club. His dad and uncles were all the first to join, and his dad was the Vice President. The club had been in Oklahoma for just over twenty years by this point, only two years longer than the whole club had existed, but as of yet it was still the only chapter in Oklahoma at all, and though not every member were Willowfoots, every Willowfoot was a member. Ezra desperately wanted to be in the club. It had become his family's world, and even the Becketts didn't dare oppose the might of the Sons. But he couldn't actually join until he turned 18. Those were the rules. So he bided his time. Red noted the Beckett girl by the doors as he pulled his glasses door, and gunned the engine of his bike, quickly joined by the others. The sound was thunderous and made every head turn. Then Red released the brake and they were off, a convoy of black riders, even the three giggling little girls in their colorful helmets could not dispel the ominous presence of the riders as they rolled onto the streets they ruled with a hand of steel.