his world since his Old Lady, Kelly-Jo, had abandoned both of them. Paul wondered if it wasn’t some sort of futile attempt at revenge, rather than taking advantage of the opportunity, that was driving Cross to plough through the women associated with the club since Kelly-Jo had left.
“Yeah, well I like to keep my floss in the bathroom.” Garfield, the club Sergeant at Arms, named for his ginger hair and beard, responded.
Paul kept his opinions to himself. They were talking about one of the local girls who kept things au naturel and seemed to enjoy a steady client base who were in favor of the natural way of things. It wasn’t his scene, but to each their own.
“It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!” Cross squealed for effect.
“Dude, did you just quote Despicable Me?” Elvis asked incredulously. Elvis was one of the newer patches. Most of the older members thought his obsession with the King’s music, to the point of attempting to keep his hair in a patent black quiff even when wearing a brain bucket, was as amusing as all get out.
“It’s on loop in our house. It’s Jenny’s favorite film.” Cross replied defensively, then his expression changed and he leaned forward, grinning widely. “Wait! You know it well enough to know I’m quoting it and you’re calling me?”
“Well it’s a favorite of Thea’s too.” Elvis tried to shrug the point off.
“Bro, my girl is eight. If it’s your girlfriend’s favorite film too I have to question the legality of your relationship.” Cross smirked.
“Boys. Do you think we can get some more business done now?” At the sound of Jimmy’s frustration the joking around the table came to a sudden halt. The average age of the table had decreased significantly since Paul had joined the club almost twenty years before. Many of the older members had patched out or patched into non-outlaw clubs over the past ten years. There was usually an exodus after any trouble resulting from their deal with the Rojas family and the Priests. Most decided that it was too hectic for their peace of mind. They didn’t like the constant threat of turf war with the Mexican and Colombian cartels or that the cartels weren’t above going for families when seeking retribution. The younger members generally did not have women and children to worry about and enjoyed the fast pace and excitement more, but Paul swore that sometimes it was like trying to organize a group of toddlers.
Jimmy turned his attention to Paul. “Shark, brother, I think we got something to raise here if that’s good with you?”
“Yeah, boss.” He had no problem with laying this out in front of his brothers; in fact he would welcome their views on it. He looked around the table. “I had a call from Charlie, from the Priests.”
“Oh yeah, how’s his leg doin?” Garfield interrupted.
There was raucous laughter around the table. The story of how Charlie had injured his leg had made it to Texas before Charlie was out of the hospital.
Paul smiled. “He’s good. Be in the cast for another two months at least though, maybe three, then he’ll need some physical therapy after that before he can ride again. He wanted to know if I was interested in joinin’ their table.”
Jimmy spoke into the silence that had fallen utterly and completely across the table. “Yeah I had a call from Sam. Your time on the road give you opportunity to think on an answer?”
Paul took a beat. He had been thinking about it. He had no reason to leave, but then he also didn’t have that many reasons to stay. It wasn’t like he had a wife and kids anchoring him. Apart from the club, the area itself had nothing but bad memories for him. He would take a bullet for any one of his brothers, but he didn’t have any deeper connection with any of them beyond the leather on their backs. Jimmy had been a
“Yeah, well I like to keep my floss in the bathroom.” Garfield, the club Sergeant at Arms, named for his ginger hair and beard, responded.
Paul kept his opinions to himself. They were talking about one of the local girls who kept things au naturel and seemed to enjoy a steady client base who were in favor of the natural way of things. It wasn’t his scene, but to each their own.
“It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!” Cross squealed for effect.
“Dude, did you just quote Despicable Me?” Elvis asked incredulously. Elvis was one of the newer patches. Most of the older members thought his obsession with the King’s music, to the point of attempting to keep his hair in a patent black quiff even when wearing a brain bucket, was as amusing as all get out.
“It’s on loop in our house. It’s Jenny’s favorite film.” Cross replied defensively, then his expression changed and he leaned forward, grinning widely. “Wait! You know it well enough to know I’m quoting it and you’re calling me?”
“Well it’s a favorite of Thea’s too.” Elvis tried to shrug the point off.
“Bro, my girl is eight. If it’s your girlfriend’s favorite film too I have to question the legality of your relationship.” Cross smirked.
“Boys. Do you think we can get some more business done now?” At the sound of Jimmy’s frustration the joking around the table came to a sudden halt. The average age of the table had decreased significantly since Paul had joined the club almost twenty years before. Many of the older members had patched out or patched into non-outlaw clubs over the past ten years. There was usually an exodus after any trouble resulting from their deal with the Rojas family and the Priests. Most decided that it was too hectic for their peace of mind. They didn’t like the constant threat of turf war with the Mexican and Colombian cartels or that the cartels weren’t above going for families when seeking retribution. The younger members generally did not have women and children to worry about and enjoyed the fast pace and excitement more, but Paul swore that sometimes it was like trying to organize a group of toddlers.
Jimmy turned his attention to Paul. “Shark, brother, I think we got something to raise here if that’s good with you?”
“Yeah, boss.” He had no problem with laying this out in front of his brothers; in fact he would welcome their views on it. He looked around the table. “I had a call from Charlie, from the Priests.”
“Oh yeah, how’s his leg doin?” Garfield interrupted.
There was raucous laughter around the table. The story of how Charlie had injured his leg had made it to Texas before Charlie was out of the hospital.
Paul smiled. “He’s good. Be in the cast for another two months at least though, maybe three, then he’ll need some physical therapy after that before he can ride again. He wanted to know if I was interested in joinin’ their table.”
Jimmy spoke into the silence that had fallen utterly and completely across the table. “Yeah I had a call from Sam. Your time on the road give you opportunity to think on an answer?”
Paul took a beat. He had been thinking about it. He had no reason to leave, but then he also didn’t have that many reasons to stay. It wasn’t like he had a wife and kids anchoring him. Apart from the club, the area itself had nothing but bad memories for him. He would take a bullet for any one of his brothers, but he didn’t have any deeper connection with any of them beyond the leather on their backs. Jimmy had been a
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