The Girl in the Second Kutte

Nine years I kept the Adirondack Iron out of prison. I wrote their filings. I paid their fines. I sat at the corner of their table, unpatched, and held the club together with paper and patience. Then Ronan brought a schoolteacher to the clubhouse, put a kutte on her back, and told me to stop coming around. So I did. And I sent them an invoice for every hour of the nine years I'd given away for free. They paid it. Every brother. Without a complaint. Six months later the state police served the club with a subpoena and named me as the custodian of record. I could have walked. I had every reason to. Instead I did what I always do: I did the work. I just did it for a price this time. And when it was over, I handed Ronan a piece of paper with my name already on it, and I told him where to put it.