Exile on Front Street by George Christie

Exile on Front Street by George Christie

Author:George Christie
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250095695
Publisher: St. Martin's Press


11

You can’t lead a Hells Angels charter nine to five. That’s not how it works. So as hard as I worked to create a normal home life in the aftermath of my trial, I still had club obligations. Cheryl had her own issues and still had no interest in a physical relationship. In the months after I got home, it became clear that we weren’t on the same page in any other part of the marriage, either.

I was frustrated. I had given up a lot of opportunities for Cheryl. Even before the trial, I had turned down Diane Keaton, who wanted to put me in her documentary Heaven. Cheryl was irrationally jealous that something might happen between Keaton and me. I’d said no to director Michael Mann when he approached me about doing a movie based on the trial because Cheryl worried about how she would be depicted. Those opportunities weren’t going to come around again. I resented her and blamed her for holding me back. Despite what we’d pledged in the Terminal Island visitors’ center, we were still letting each other down. The marriage didn’t need much to go up in flames. The spark came late one Friday night.

I was determined to build the charter. Prison had given me the opportunity to reflect on the kind of leader I wanted to be. I had always been leery of anyone who came around the club. I was naturally a little paranoid. But if you’re going to grow, you have to take chances. You have to cultivate new members.

The Hells Angels require individual charters to maintain at least six full-patch members. We’d worked around that rule for years by bringing in transfers—sometimes on paper alone (Animal had technically transferred from Oakland for a short time, to keep us at the minimum). But it had gone on long enough. I needed new blood. That meant being more accessible, opening up, and showing prospects and hangarounds why the life was so great.

From the day I’d gotten back from Terminal Island, I had been home every night before the kids went to bed. But one Friday, I stayed late at a clubhouse party. Walking through the door a little past midnight, I found an angry redhead waiting to pounce. Cheryl had a full head of steam, and the argument started before I could take off my patch.

“You met somebody down there. That’s why you’re so late. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

It pissed me off. This was always how it went. As far as she was concerned, I was always cheating on her. Or planning on cheating on her. Or thinking about cheating on her. But I’d kept my part of the bargain, the fidelity we had discussed in Terminal Island. I’d done what I had promised. That didn’t matter. Our sex life wasn’t any better. That part of our life obviously wasn’t going to change. The bitter irony wasn’t lost on me. I had been so discreet about the affairs I’d had that Cheryl never had any real evidence.



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