Chapter 8
Asher – Present – Age 42
Looking at the applications of club girls, the brothers and I looked at each one of them and then passed it on.
We had seventy-four applications.
Seventy-four.
That was the most this club had ever seen.
We usually kept between four to five club girls.
But with Pipe claiming Gabby. Coal claiming Adeline. And Irish is pulling his head from his ass about Sutton. We were out of three girls.
Right now, we had Lizette.
And that was it. And she was getting tired. The brothers deserved something new.
Three club girls stood out to the brothers.
Kayla. Flo. Hanna.
When I saw on Flo’s application that she was a club girl for the Dogwood charter of Wrath MC, I tagged my phone and called Powers.
Then, once he answered on the third ring, I put it on speaker.
“Asher. Long time. How’s it going?” I heard his woman, Lil, obliviously telling their two kids to clean up their breakfast plates.
I chuckled at the mom voice she had used, then I said, “It’s fucking going. But got a question for you.”
Powers's tone was serious when he said, “Ask.”
“We need club girls. We’re down three. Got one in front of me. Said she used to be one of y’all’s.”
“Name?” he asked.
“Flo.” And if the woman wasn’t a bitch, that was a cool name.
Powers chuckled then and said, “Well, fuck.”
That caused something in my gut to tighten, I asked, “Well fuck what?”
He chuckled again, “Been wondering where she went off to.”
I lifted a brow, “She trouble?”
He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Y’all got a bunch of ol’ ladies?”
It was my turn to hesitate for a moment on how to answer him.
I locked eyes with Priest.
He never made his wife his ol’ lady, and I knew he was glad that he hadn’t. Because after she served him with divorce papers and wanted to trade him in for someone with more money, I never wanted to see that bitch again.
And I knew that if Priest ever met another woman that he showed interest in, she was going to have to be patient.
And I mean patient as fuck.
But we had Gabby, Adeline, and finally Sutton.
Gabby was Pipe’s ol’ lady.
Adeline was Coal’s ol’ lady.
Sutton was Irish’s ol’ lady.
And as for me... well... I didn’t want to get into that at the moment.
I said, “We got three ol’ ladies.”
“They the type to let it known that they won’t tolerate anyone hitting on their men?” Powers asked.
I looked at Pipe, Coal, and Irish.
And all at once, they grinned.
I chuckled, “Oh yeah.”
“Then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. But a word of advice, make it clear to her that if a brother has an ol’ lady, and she messes with that, she’s out on her ass. And don’t be lenient with that shit. Cause you give that bitch an inch, she’ll take a fucking mile.”
After we hung up, we voted.
And we voted for Kayla, Flo, and Hanna.
There was one more matter to vote on, and I told Ivan I would bring it to the table.
“I got a visit a few months ago. Then we talked it over.” I locked eyes with Rome. “This is your call; it’s up to you. Ivan Svankov is stepping down as the mafia's cleaner. He’s retiring and wants to spend time with his wife and daughter.”
Rome jerked up his chin, “Heard about that. Word is he’s reached out to you and two others.”
I lifted a brow, “Who?”
“A man he knew way back in Russia. Sergei Alekseev, he’s the Sovietnik for Maksim Kostikov. And the other, he’s the Sovietnik for Konstantin Mikhailov.”
I leaned back in my chair and thought it over. It was a good plan. With Maksim, the new Pakhan of the east of the United States, and Konstantin, the new Pakhan of the north, a lot more ground will be covered. I liked it. It was a damn good plan.
But... “You gotta think on it. It’s a big undertaking. Not sure your woman will be okay with it.”
Rome lifted his chin, “I’ll talk to her about it.”
And he would because there wasn’t a move Rome made unless he talked it over with Collins. She wasn’t his ol’ lady. But we all knew he was hers.
“Anything else that needs to be brought to the table?” I asked.
And when no one opened their mouths, I slammed the gavel on the table.
It was time to get the clubhouse ready for the party we were hosting this weekend.
***
That night, as I lay in my bed behind my closed eyelids, I allowed myself the one pleasure I had given myself.
She was old enough now.
It wasn’t criminal.
Some might say it was criminal to have done what I did.
But I knew that at the end of the day, as long as she ended the day in my bed, then I didn’t consider any of it not to be worth it.
I would do it all over again for it to be her face I saw at the end of the day and the first thing I saw every morning.
Perhaps that was why, after four hours of lying in bed awake, I had gotten up, dressed, then got on my bike and rode to where I did.
And, like always... her bedroom window was open.