I’ve always known anything worth having in this life wasn’t gonna come easy. It’s just the way it is. As much as it may have sucked at times, nothing’s just gonna be handed to you.
To get anything in this world, you’d have to have heart and determination, and my folks made damn well sure I knew it. They were good people … full of love and grit. I grew up watching my dad bust his balls every day of his life working the line at the local tire factory and doing odd jobs at the garage on the weekends. Whenever we needed extra cash to buy those cool tennis shoes the popular kids were wearing or the name brand shirts my sister was always yammering about, he’d take on a few extra shifts to make sure we could get them. He never complained, not once. Seeing us happy kept him going, and even though he worked hard, he always found time to enjoy life. My mother was the same way. She worked full time as a nurse at our local hospital and kept her house running with a warm meal on the table at night and clean clothes ready for us in the morning—and she did it all with a smile on her face. I loved how she was always laughing, always finding humor in the little things. Her spirit made our house a home.
My folks loved us, but they worked hard and expected me and my sister to do the same. They had high expectations and accepted nothing less than our best. They wanted us to be happy and have a good life, and believed that good grades and college were the best ways to make that happen for both of us. I did what I could to make them proud, but whenever things got to be hard, I found myself at the foot of my Grandma Pip bitching about my problem of the day. She’d sit there in that old blue rocking chair listening to me gripe as she peered at me over the rims of her bifocals. When I was done complaining, she’d offer me her advice on whatever was bugging me, but she’d sum it up by saying the same thing every single time: “Life ain’t always peaches and cream, hon. You’re just gonna have to toughen up and make things happen.” She’d then tell me to ignore the pain, forget all the obstacles that stood in my way, and fight for what was important to me. I’d try to explain to her that it wasn’t that easy, but she never listened, never wanted to hear my excuses. She agreed with my folks that there was only one path that led to a good life, and if you were strong enough to follow it, you’d find happiness.
I’d like to say that following in my parents’ footsteps came naturally to me, but it didn’t. I was driven and determined, just like them—even more so in some ways. I wanted a good job, a big house, and a fancy car, and I wasn’t afraid to work for it. I did what was expected. I started my first job as soon as I turned fifteen, graduated high school with honors, and got a full ride to college with a football scholarship. Everything I thought I wanted was within my reach, but it just didn’t feel right. I tried ignoring that gnawing feeling that I was on a path that I really didn’t want, but it was no use. I was fighting for something that wasn’t meant to be mine. The closer I got to my parents’ dreams, I knew in my core it was just that: their dreams. I didn’t want the highfalutin job or the big fancy house. It all seemed so mundane. I wanted something different, something more.
I left college and the good graces of my parents to find my “something more”. When I met Cotton and the other brothers of Satan’s Fury, I knew I’d found just what I was looking for. Being with them made me feel alive … really alive for the first time in my life. With them, I found a brotherhood that offered a life that fulfilled my need for adventure, and a sense of belonging that I’d never really known.
It wasn’t the life that my parents had expected for me. Hell, it wasn’t even the life I’d expected, but I couldn’t imagine wanting anything