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RAZOR

THERE ARE LIES in life we accept Whether it’s for the sake of ignorance, bliss or, in my case, survival, we all n of Terror Motorcycle Club I choose to work for the security company associated with theh school

All of this boils down to one choice in particular--whether or not to believe my father’s version of a lie or the town’s I chose my father’s lie I chose the brotherhood of the club

What I haven’t chosen? Being harassed by themy front porch He’s decked out in a pair of pressed khakis and a button-down straight from a mallThe real question--is he here by choice or did he draw the short stick?

"As I said, son," he continues, "I’m not here to talk to your dad I’ust wind blows in fro our house, and sweat foruy’s skin He’s too cocky to be nervous, so that duree heat index

"You and I," he adds, "we need to talk"

My eyes flash to the detective badge hanging on the guy’s hip and then to his dark blue unravel drive Twenty bucks he thinks he blocked rass to escape

This guy doesn’t belong to our police force His plates suggest he’s from Jefferson County That’s in the northern part of Kentucky I live in a small tohere even the street hustlers and police know each other by nahthat would justify his presence Yeah, I stumbled into souys who didn’t keep their os on a leash, but nothing that warrants this visit

A bead of water drips froray wood of the deck and his eyes track it I’m fresh from a shower Jeans on Black boots on my feet No shirt Hair on uy checks out the tats on ood for hi, I officially becan of Terror If heto inviteon the door was one ofwith e

"You’re not in trouble," he says, and I’m impressed he doesn’t shuffle his feet like most people do when they arrive on my doorstep "As I said, I want to talk"

I e Silence doesn’t bother me There’s a ton you can learn about a person from how they deal with the absence of sound Most can’t handle unco