As he takes it with thanks and a nod, I realise just how much difference Vi has made to this place. Publicity for certain, and a semblance of order to the routine stuff too. Yeah, Prez did well bringing her on board.
Chapter Two
Lizard
I get back to the compound with time to spare for a beer before heading on into our meeting. I also have a moment to pick up a letter that’s come in the mail for me. It’s from the VA and gives me an appointment date and time. As I read it, I purse my lips. Fuck knows why they insist on seeing me to offer help I no longer want or need. I am what I am, got my life fixed, brothers around me. Nothing more they can do or that I want them to. I can put one foot in front of the other, ride my bike, fuck, and do my job. What more do I want? There must be many others far more deserving than me.
“You got problems, Brother?”
I’m used to nosy fuckers, and Mace having perused the letter I left carelessly on the bar is nothing new.
“Nah,” I tell him without any ire at all. “I’m fine, man. They probably just want to check I’m still alive.”
“Are you?”
I thump his arm. “I’m no fucking ghost. What the fuck, Ink?” I snap at the man who’s not just giving my letter a casual glance, he’s picked it up and is reading it thoroughly too.
“Hey, say’s they’ve got to check your dick.”
“It does not!” I rise to the bait, snatching it back in case I’ve missed something.
“Hope not,” mumbles Mace. “Got plans for later. Unless you…?”
Ink laughs and shrugs off the invitation that had been directed his way. “Nah. Happy with Liz taking my place. I’m with Beth now, Brother.”
He’s been one-hundred-percent faithful since he got together with her. I can’t understand it myself. “Surely, you miss fucking the whores?”
Ink slaps me on the shoulder. “Can’t say that I do, Liz. Can’t say that I do. Beth’s everything I want.”
“Aww.” Mace draws the word out, then stage whispers to me, “Pussy whipped.”
After giving a snort to indicate my agreement, I ask, “Heard anything from Beth’s mom or brother?”
“Nah.” Ink shakes his head. “We won’t, either. The only way they can stay safe is to become their new identities and live their new lives. It’s hard on Beth, but she understands she can’t contact them.”
“But you know they’re alright?”
“Yeah.” Ink grins at Mace. “Lost has a man who keeps check now and again, nothing to link him to us. Least we know they’re living and breathing.”
“Beth accept that?” Bitches can be tricky. They say one thing but mean another. Sticking with whores means no such complications.
Ink’s quick to pick up what I’m putting down. “She knows she has to, but she doesn’t like it. The wound’s still raw. She misses her mom, but I’m trying to fuck that out of her.” He winks. “So far it’s working, you know?”
A loud whistle interrupts before I can respond in the affirmative; my view is a good fuck can work wonders. Placing my now empty bottle on the bar, I waste no time following everyone else into our meeting room.
The citizens I was thinking about earlier, who believe our life’s all about riding bikes and coming up with nefarious moneymaking plots or discussing how to dole death out to our enemies, would be shocked to sit in on church, I muse, as Buzzard our treasurer runs through the finances as competently as any finance director in a company would. Money’s coming in well, so we’ll all have a little extra in our paychecks this month. I exchange a fist bump with Paladin, both of us with our eyes on new parts for our bikes. Me, I’m addicted to Screamin’ Eagle shit.
As a manager of one of the club businesses, I’m expected to report on how things are on the ground at Devil’s Ink. When it’s my turn, I give credit to Vi for the increase in revenue, not missing the gleam of pride in Demon’s eyes.
“Any update about Weston?” he asks.
“Yeah. Whale’s on board.” I wink as Demon looks up to the ceiling then down. “He came into the shop before I left to tell me he’s accepted the job.”
“He’s going to fuckin’ murder you,” Ink grins, “you keep calling him that.”
“Smother him more like,” offers Mace. “All he needs to do is sit on you and you’d be a goner.”
“Don’t fuckin’ care about the size of his girth.” Prez glares down the table. “Weston will be a great addition from what I’ve seen.”
The VP waggles his fingers to get our attention. “Since shit went down with Beth and her family, we still got Dirt and Nails hanging around. We going to give them their prospect rockers?”
“Don’t see why not,” Mace says thoughtfully. “They’ve proved they can be trusted to keep their mouths shut.”
“I kind of like them,” Thunder puts in. “They’ve got that military experience that works well with the club. I’m happy to bring them on board.”
Ink raises his hand. “Been talking to Nails. He suffers PTSD, but that’s not unusual.” A rumble of sympathy goes around the table. It’s certainly not unusual in anyone who’s served. Ink nods, and continues, “That dog of theirs is basically a support dog. If they’re going to be around more, I think we’ll be seeing more of the mutt.”
“The dog’s probably got PTSD himself,” Hellfire states, but not unkindly. The dog lost a leg in Afghanistan in the same incident that made Dirt and Nails leave the Army.
“I reckon Nails and the dog probably support each other,” I observe. “We’ve already got Max. Another dog won’t be a problem, will it?”
Beef grimaces. “We’ll just have to see how Max takes it.” He’s referring, like I was, to the seeing-eye dog that belongs to his wife.
“I don’t know how Bitch will take it,” sighs Prez heavily. “Fuck. When I’m not worrying about you fuckin’ lot, it’s dogs and cats I have to contend with.”
Prez has a good point. Though we pretend to hate her, we’ve all got a soft spot for the cat who wandered in off the street one day. When she decided to stay, we let her, and her behaviour had earned her that name. Fuck knows what had turned Bitch that way, but that cat hates men with a passion. She doesn’t much care for canines either and puts them in their place. One thing for certain, she makes life interesting.
“Right. Quick vote. We bring Dirt and Nails on board as prospects.”
Prez counts the ayes and doesn’t have to ask who objects. Just like that, we pick up two new prospects. Good timing, as Karl and Beaver will be patched in soon if I’m right. Got to have someone to do all the shit work.
“Ink? What’s happening with the gym?” Demon asks for an update, moving on from our four-legged residents, or three in the new prospects’ dog’s case.
Ink tosses a glare at the enforcer. I smirk. Converting part of the disused factory buildings had been Mace’s idea when we thought Ink would be going inside for a few decades. We’d have been doing something for a brother who couldn’t be here. When Ink returned, it had become his baby. At first Ink had been excited, then his initial enthusiasm had faded once he realised just what was involved with it.