“Maybe we should pop into RBMC and check out this sweet piece Chaos swears isn’t his future ol’ lady.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
Sinner picks up, always in the mood for head games and screwing with people. “Sounds like fun, count me and Saint in.” They hit knuckles, and it has Viking rolling his eyes.
“Bunch of fucking children.” Viking huffs. “I’ve got business with Ripper, so we can stop in, but I’m giving him a heads-up. We go rolling in there with the entire club unannounced, he’s going to have his guard up.”
Odin grins my way. He knows about Hollywood already. He’s heard me bellyaching over her to Cherry before.
It’s not like I can tell them to fuck off and not go. I could say it, but it’d be pointless, and they’d show up anyway. On the upside, she’ll make good tips off my brothers crashing their bar to drink. The downside is they’ll probably talk shit to try and get a rise out of me. Dumbasses. They mean well, but they’ll probably only make it harder for me to get another chance at taking her out again. It took her idiot ex or whatever he was to her to finally get her on the back of my bike and let me take her out.
Not that I’m complaining, I had a great time. It was almost too perfect. She still gave me her sass, but we got along like we’d been thick as thieves for years. That kind of connection doesn’t come along often, and it only made me want her more.
“All right, brothers,” Viking interrupts the conversations around the table. “Back to business. Everything went down as planned with the drop-off to the Russians, so the table will see a hefty payday.”
Blaze nods in confirmation. He’s taken over treasurer duties for Smokey. The old man caught pneumonia and hasn’t been able to shake it. He’s been in and out of the hospital, sicker than a dog with a bad bone. “I’ll have it split up by the end of the week.”
He’s got to pay out to Scot’s ol’ lady and Smokey’s hospital bills, among a few others we help out. The brothers get their cash last unless someone has an emergency. I’m sure they all know I have money, since I played football for so many years. Thankfully, it’s never been a topic of conversation from any of them, just another reason why I’m able to be comfortable and myself with them.
“Iron Fists has been quiet,” Nightmare shares. “Spider’s regularly keeping tabs on them when he checks in on everything else. He said the Nomads will be in town next week.” He lights up a joint, taking a deep inhale. He still has pain from when we hit the cartel years ago. From the bits and pieces of conversations I’ve overheard Bethany and Princess talking about, Night won’t take any meds for it. He took up smoking when it’s bothering him bad enough, and I can’t blame him. I ache like fuck all the time from putting my body through hell over the years.
Vike tips his chin with a smirk curling his lips. “Bet.”
The Nomads are family, and it’s always a good time when they stop through. I haven’t been able to get a decent read on Magnum and Knuckle Buster, but Exterminator says they check out. I’ve never been one to trust easily since everything went down with my ex-wife, but if the Nomads trust those two, then I should be able to as well.
Zeus shakes his head. “Don’t know how Spider keeps everything as straight as he does. The brother must never sleep.”
“Spidey knows his shit,” Viking agrees. “He’s saved all our asses at this table at least once.”
“We ready to pull Frost into the fold?” Odin pipes up. The brother is the youngest at the table, but with Frost and the twins around, he has a few people closer to his age. Not that age means shit to the club aside from the age of consent with females.
“Let’s vote,” Viking orders. He begins, and we all quickly follow suit, agreeing Frost should be a fully patched member. He’s earned it, and every brother in here knows as much. He has no idea we’re voting on his patch today, which is how we usually do shit around here. “Get him in here.”
Blaze opens the door leading out of church and bellows, “Frost! Get your punk ass in here.” He slams the door dramatically, then takes his seat.
The room fills with quiet chuckles before tapering off to a stark silence. I can hear the click of the clock on the wall and Nightmare inhaling his next hit off the joint while we wait around the solid oak table.
Frost opens the door, popping his head in. “You wanted me?”
“Get in here, prospect. We’ve got shit to discuss with you,” Nightmare rumbles, setting his joint down, then folding his arms across his chest.
We all glare at Frost, and surprisingly, his features remain stony. He’s probably ready to piss himself, which makes this all the more comical.
“All right,” his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, taking a step inside and closing the door. He’s in his usual all-black ensemble with a band t-shirt and skinny jeans. He reminds me of a dejected rocker who quit the band.
Viking barks, “Did I tell you to close the door, Prospect? Last I checked, I’m the motherfucking president of this club. You coming after my spot?”
“Shit,” Frost swears quietly and quickly moves to open the door.
We all attempt not to laugh, and Viking says, “I’m fucking with you, Prospect. Get over here and pull up a chair.”
Frost’s eyes widen. “To the table? You want me to sit with you all?”
Nightmare nods. “Unless you plan on spending all your time in the bar or jerking your limp dick?”
Frost swiftly grabs a chair and sits at the end of the table next to Mercenary. We all stare silently at him while he gets situated. He glances at Viking, then eventually skirts his gaze to each of us. “Uh, this good?” he eventually asks.
“You gotta have a patch to sit at this table, Prospect,” Torch chides, and Frost jumps to his feet. It’s all too much for us to hold back any longer, and we burst into laughter. Poor Frost, he looks like he’s ready to puke.
Viking eventually orders, “Grab Frost some patches.” Then he says to Frost, “Welcome to the Oath Keepers. You betray us, we’ll kill you.”
Frost nods, finally smiling. “I can live with that.” He takes his seat at the table, and the brothers welcome him by talking shit and promising him a patch party later.
We roll into the RBMC TX parking lot and dismount as a large group. Damn near the entire club and their ol’ ladies made the ride out to visit Ripper’s clubhouse. I’d like to think it’s because they want a beer, but I know their ol’ men told them about Hollywood, and they’re curious. I can’t blame them for it, I’d be as well. Most of them are planning a ride to Lake Travis after we leave here to spend the day in the sun. The other single brothers and I are headed back home to chill at the clubhouse. I’m sure they want the company of the resident club whores while I want to catch the game on later.
“Let’s do this,” Odin calls out, then belches.
“Ugh. Gross,” Princess comments and smacks his stomach. Cherry laughs at them while I shake my head, already regretting the feisty bunch meeting Hollywood without any sort of warning. Not that I’m embarrassed by my brothers, they’re my closest friends. Still, this group deserves a warning label plastered over their foreheads.