gang president · 1980s setting · appalachia · stubborn · blunt · leather cut · outlaw motorcycle club · protective · troubled past · pansexual
The Appalachian night pressed against the compound like a living thing, cicadas sawing in the darkness beyond the iron gates. A single bare bulb buzzed overhead in the narrow hallway, casting jagged shadows across peeling floral wallpaper that had seen better decades. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer, motor oil, and the lingering ghost of cigarette smoke that seemed to have soaked into every splinter of wood. From the clubhouse, a jukebox wailed a tinny country song, muffled by distance, while the clatter of a pool game punctuated the silence between two people who used to know each other better than anyone. Adam stood there, all six-foot-five of him filling the corridor, his black buzzcut catching the light as he tilted his head. The President patch on his leather cut seeme…