6. Deacon
Gunz:
Emergency meeting at the clubhouse at six thirty. All officers except Dimples and Squeak are required to be in attendance.
Shadow:
When did Squeak join the club? *scratching head*
Diesel:
The same day I gave her stubborn ass her club name. I don’t care how much she resists. She’s one of us.
Bulldog:
Yeah, I’m in complete agreement.
Dimples:
Wow, y’all are wild for forcing this woman into the club when all she said she’s comfortable doing is performing secretarial duties.
Seeing the group chat blow up with repeated messages distracted me in the middle of a staff meeting.
*ding*
*Squeak left the group*
Dimples:
I guess she told you niggas. *laughing emoji*
Seeing the notification about Squeak leaving the group chat has a low chuckle leaving my throat, shifting the focus of the branch manager whose forehead wrinkles.
“I didn’t realize I said something funny, Mr. Redmond.”
Diesel:
See what I mean…stubborn as hell.
Diesel’s message pops up before I have a chance to close out of the thread or address the pansy standing at the front of the conference room. I lock my phone when silence penetrates the room, as the energy fills with tension and everyone stares at me.
“To be honest, I’m not sure what you said over the last five minutes or so,” I say nonchalantly.
A pin drop of silence echoes in the atmosphere as Kramer’s face turns tomato red, accompanying the deep frown on his pale lips. Somehow, Kramer forgot that I’m not the nigga to throw his weight around with. The rest of the people in this bank are intimidated by the false power he wields over them. However, the only person capable of making me bow is the one who gave his life for the sins I freely commit on a daily basis.
“Uh. Hm. That’s all for today, everyone. If you have any questions for me, please call or email, and I’ll get back to you,” Kramer says before fleeing from the conference room like the punk-ass pansy he is.
“One of these days, they’re gonna fire your mean ass,” my colleague, Claudia says smiling when the room begins clearing out and I slowly begin my retreat to the door.
“Possibly, but then again, it won’t change the fact that Kramer doesn’t have the balls to do it.”
Claudia laughs, garnering the attention of Tye, who walks over to where Claudia and I are with a Cheshire grin.
“Why did you stop ole Kramer’s heart like that, man? If his face got any paler, he would appear casket-ready,” Tye asks, smirking.
“If he doesn’t find a safe intersection to play in, his ass will be in a casket,” I say, shrugging.
Tye and Claudia know that I’m a Baxtown Iron member, as both have been to the club’s events and seen me in action. My day job has never stopped me from being the man I am, income and position be damned. One thing I despise more than anything is a mothafucka who thinks their job will keep me from knocking some sense into their frontal lobe. Claudia shakes her head as Tye ushers her out of the room, smiling and whispering in her ear affectionately. The two of them have been messing around, and Tye is incapable of keeping his hands off Claudia. Unlocking my phone, I open the thread for the club to see what I’ve missed and possibly need to respond to.
Gunz:
Hm. The silence coming from Deacon must mean he’s either praying or crying at the thought of Squeak leaving.
“This nigga,” I whisper before typing a quick response so I can get back to work.
Me:
Why don’t you walk into the busiest intersection near you and play in traffic, nigga? Some of us are working while others of us are playing hide and go giddy up with their neighbor’s rotting pussy.
Shadow:
Aw, hell. Where is Deaconess Shirley with her oil? Y’all done woke this nigga from his slumber.
Laughing, I lock my phone and leave the conference room to finish my workday while choosing not to respond to Shadow or anyone else who might chime in after my message.
“It appears there’s been some chatter about Satan’s Cobras having beef with a few members of our club,” Diesel says.
“What’s the beef?” Bulldog asks, frowning.
“It seems that there’s someone in our camp who a member of Satan’s Cobras is fixated on. I’m working to determine the member, but no one is providing the name. All I keep hearing is that it’s several members within our club,” Diesel says, sparking his blunt as the smoke billows the air around him.
“Who’s running that weak-ass club since their leader got clipped?” Gunz asks.
I don’t offer any commentary while waiting for the answer or other pertinent information. Satan’s Cobras has been our off-and-on rival club since Diesel became president. The previous president for Satan’s Cobras was taken out by Bulldog, yet those who remain still haven’t learned to leave Baxtown Iron alone.
“The better question is, how are we gonna make these niggas realize that the only pussy within our club are the ones we choose to fuck,” Shadow says as his jaw ticks.
All is well in Shadow’s world until someone attempts to come against any member of this club. Then all bets are off, and Shadow takes the offense personally while fully embracing his enforcer role at all costs.
“First question… bitch ass Daxx is the presiding leader. He seems to be the one fueling the beef despite knowing what we’re capable of,” Diesel says.
My jaw ticks, and my blood runs cold at hearing the name of Satan’s Cobras’ leader because Daxx is a mothafucka who lives to make the women in their club suffer at his hands. Daxx is a prime example of why the residents of Ribax call motorcycle clubs a gang, and the shit irritates the fuck out of me.
“Who voted that weak ass nigga in a role he will never be savage enough to fulfill?” Gunz asks.
“The same niggas who can’t stop riding his dick by thinking he’s their soon-coming warrior. I ain’t never seen a more weak group of niggas in all my life,” Bulldog says, shaking his head.
“What’s our next move?” I am no longer interested in hearing anything other than our plan of action or attack, whichever comes first.
“For now, we’re going to be still. I just needed to inform y’all of the situation so we can be vigilant moving forward. Whenever we’re open, ensure all women are accounted for. None of them are to leave without being escorted to whatever mode of transportation they arrive in,” Diesel says.
My mind automatically goes to Squeak and her resistance to being a member of this club because no one but her will care. Satan’s Cobras would snatch her simply for her association with us. Gritting my teeth, my hands ball into fists at the thought of someone daring to touch a single hair on Squeak’s head. An image of me wiping out multiple members of Satan’s Cobras for breathing in her direction increases my blood pressure.
“What about Squeak?” Shadow asks, causing my head to snap in his direction.
“What the fuck do you mean? Whether Squeak agrees or not, she’s under the protection of Baxtown Iron. Not a single hair on her head will be shifted out of place,” I say with authority.
“Agreed.”
“Hell yeah.”
“Affirmative.”
Gunz, Bulldog, and Diesel speak simultaneously, bringing a wicked smile to my lips and warmth in my heart at their agreement. Having said all I need to at this moment, I walk away while pulling my phone from my pocket and dialing Tinker Belle’s number.
“Hey, Deacon. What’s up?” Tinker Belle asks when the call connects after the third ring.
“From now until her stubborn ass lets me do it, make sure Squeak comes to the club with you. There’s some shit brewing, and I don’t want her moving solo.”
“Fuck! She’s never gonna go for that. She’s also not going to be open to joining the club if she knows the club is dealing with any form of danger,” Tinker Belle says.
“For now, she doesn’t have to join, but her affiliation with us still places a target on her back. Painting the city red about Squeak will be like dancing in the rain for me.”
I don’t feel the need to mix words or pretend like I’m not feeling Squeak on a level that makes me territorial about her. Whether Squeak knows it or not, she’s mine, and I will always protect what’s mine.
*beep, beep*
Pulling my phone from my ear, I shake my head at seeing Ma’s name flashing when my other line beeps. With the storm brewing within me, the last thing I need is to answer Ma’s call, so I place the phone back to my ear, letting the call go to voicemail.
“While we’re on the subject of Ms. Squeak, I’m gonna tell you now, over my best friend, I’ll risk my life over avenging her heart, Deacon,” Tinker Belle says.
“That makes two of us then. No worries, Tinker Belle. Squeak will be more than safe with me. I guarantee you that.”
“I’ll hold you to it. That is if she ever gives you a chance to chase her and win her heart.”
With danger on the horizon, the last thing I need to be doing is trying to pursue Squeak. She’s a woman whose shyness and inability to involve herself in club activities should be a turnoff. Yet, the racing of my heart, clammy palms, and momentary inability to speak whenever I’m in her presence urges me to move full speed ahead. The idea of locking Squeak down and having a chance at forever motivates me more than any possible rejection I might face.
“No worries. Every now and then, God inclines His ear to a sinner’s prayers. Squeak will always be good with me.”
“Bet. Then you have my blessing, Deacon.”
“Say less, Tinker Belle.”