Chapter Thirty-Seven
CAROLINE GOING TO VISIT her mum, not long after our gathering at the club, and that revelation I hadn’t broached with her yet, was a bad sign, I could feel it.
I had to stick around to meet with Henley, and show him around, introduce him to Micro and a few of the others, so we could see if he’d be a good fit for us, and vice versa, but watching her leave was eating at me.
We’d both come here on my wheels, so a prospect had taken her back home, so she could ride from there, but I wished I’d been able to take her myself.
I felt like there was a fucking chasm opening up between us, and I hated it.
Was she that afraid of a tattoo, or was it more about the commitment it would represent?
I wouldn’t hesitate to wear her name on me, but maybe that wasn’t what she wanted long term.
My name on her skin would be a pretty long term investment, and maybe that wasn’t what she was willing to sign up for, after all.
Maybe she was already starting to realise she could do better than me. I was hardly a catch, right?
“Yo, VP, your guest is just coming up the road,” the gate prospect yelled out to me, and I made my way over to greet Henley.
I’d heard the distinctive roar of his ride as he approached, but seeing it was a whole different thing.
He wasn’t kidding. He really had a Vincent Black Shadow, and I guided him in to where he could park as the gates were pulled closed behind him.
I waited until he cut the engine and lifted off his helmet, stepping off her, before I started scrutinising every detail.
She was a gorgeous machine, with all original parts, and showing careful, beautiful restoration.
I couldn’t afford one in a million fucking years, but if I could… damn…
“You want a few minutes alone with her?” Henley asked, smirking at me when I straightened back up.
“I have so many questions, man, but I feel like you wanna see the place first, and shoot the breeze with some of the guys.”
“This place already looks better than it did when I stopped by last. Some prick called Reaper got in my face, and put me right off.” Ugh Reaper. Yeah I remembered that asshole, of course.
“Yeah, good riddance. Anyway, so you’ve seen the entrance, and this is the place. It’s not much, I know, but we’ve got big plans, man. I’m talking a complete rebuild, but that’s not common knowledge yet. Just want you to know it’s going to get so much better.”
Henley nodded, walking with me as I led him towards the office and lounge building. I pointed things out along the way. The storage house, which was locked, of course, and the barrack style lodgings at the back.
“Church is around the back of this building, but this is the lounge, and offices for Club President, and our Tech Specialist-”
“You make me sound so cool, man,” Grease said, stepping casually out of his office, like he hadn’t been watching our approach to time it just right.
“Henley, this is Grease, the aforementioned guy who’s kinda good with computers, even if he’s a nosy prick.”
Grease smirked. “Guilty as charged, welcome, man. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s home.”
“You sleep in your office?”
He laughed, slapping Henley’s back hard enough that he staggered forward a step. Token behaviour for a biker who seemed to like the guy he was borderline abusing.
“Yeah, you’ll fit right in. You going to say hi to the Pres, man?”
“That was the plan. Uh… is it safe?”
Grease snorted, backing away from Micro’s door. “Look, all I’m saying is back when Sophie was here all the time, I’d have said hell no, but he’s got a tablet in there, so anything could be happening, capisce?”
Ugh. The temptation to walk away, or ring the fucker first, was pretty strong, because we’d all seen things at this point, no matter how discreet he thought he was being with his old lady.
I decided, reluctantly, to sack up and go knock on his door, and his instant response to come in was a big fucking relief.
“Pres, just wanted to bring Henley by to say hi,” I said as I opened the door and gestured to Henley to follow me. Micro stood up and shook Henley’s hand, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite his desk.
“You want a coffee?”
Henley shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good.
Thanks for letting me come by and meet you guys.
I briefly met the old club here, those fucking Rogues, and that was enough of a hell no for me to look elsewhere, but I really want somewhere local to hang, you know?
I was a member of a club in Henley for a while, but left on good terms when I moved here. ”
Micro grimaced at the brief mention of the Rogues, as did I, because we knew what those assholes were capable of, and a cull had been the only course of action to take, even if it had led to some payback later.
“I like to think we’ve…” Micro trailed off, shooting a shit-eating grin at Grease, who groaned dramatically.
“Oh come on, man, not again…”
“I like to think we’ve risen from the ashes of the old club,” Micro said with a triumphant smirk.
“Feel better now? I swear I’m gonna keep a fucking tally on the fucking wall, and there will be retribution.”
I exchanged a grin with Henley, because these two could argue for Britain, and clearly intended to.
“You guys done?”
Micro grinned widely. “I’m just saying, this place was a real shit-show, and now it’s awesome.
The people still remaining in the club are the good ones.
The ones who weren’t into the shit the other club was into.
They just want to ride, and enjoy life. Hell, we even did our first toy run to the local children’s hospice recently, and we’re doing another one just before Christmas. ”
I had to admit it felt pretty good to hear those words, because wasn’t it just proof that the club itself was improved? Would Crusher have cared about sick children? Not unless he could milk money from their parents in some scheme that’d hurt all of them, and benefit only him.
“Yeah, I want in on the next one,” I added, jerking my head at Grease to close the door before I continued, “I mentioned to Henley about some of the refurb stuff we’re going to be doing. Just to highlight how this place is changing for the better.”
Micro nodded, glancing at his phone on the desk, tapping the button, something he’d taken to doing often since Sophie had started approaching her due date.
“It’s going to be awesome. It’s all getting knocked down, via a demo party of course, which you’re welcome to join. Then we’ll have to bring in some temporary housing and stuff, while we work on the rebuild.”
Henley cleared his throat, sitting forward in his seat. “I might be able to help out with some of that actually. I uh… have my own business, and I’d have some accommodations you could set up here.”
I frowned, because I’d never thought to ask what he did as a job, but he clearly did well out of whatever the hell it was.
“What’s the business?” I saw Grease and Micro were just as avidly curious as I was now.
Henley smiled, glancing at each of us. “No laughing now, because it’s good business and good money. I own a glamping business.”
Our blank faces must have told him how utterly clueless we were, because he fidgeted in his seat a little, smoothing his pricy leather jacket as he sat taller.
“Glamping. You know, camping, but posh.” We were all still silent and processing.
“Okay, that’s the way it gets described most often. High end accommodations, plush living, but outdoorsy. Look, fortunately I don’t work in marketing, yeah? I just own it. But we have portable glamping setups we could loan to the club, you know, as a gesture from me to you.”
Grease was chuckling to himself, so we all stared at him for a moment, letting Henley feel a little less of the intense focus on him.
“Something funny?” Micro asked him, and Grease shook his head.
“Nah, just the idea of any of you fuckers glamping. I mean, you wouldn’t know luxury if it jumped up and bit your ass.”
“Prick. I’ve lived in nice places,” I argued, and he shrugged.
“Just saying, as a man accustomed to a luxury lifestyle, you guys wouldn’t know what to do with yourselves.”
Henley dug a business card out of his pocket, and then a pricy looking pen, jotting something on the card, before handing it to Micro.
“That’s my business manager, just give her a call, and let her know I’m making whatever resources available that you guys need for your rebuild. As a favour.”
Micro stared at the card shrewdly. “That’s a pretty expensive favour, man. We’re grateful, don’t get me wrong, but is this you trying to buy your way into the club?”
“Doesn’t want to go prospect, that’s what it is,” Grease joked, and Micro glared at him.
“Like you didn’t, you mean? Look, I know there are ways things are done, but I’ll be honest. I’m not as much of a hard line as other Presidents.
Grease avoided the prospect phase for reasons that I won’t go into.
I’m not saying you get a pass, Henley, but you don’t have to throw expensive favours at us to get a chance.
We’re not only after what we can get from our members.
We want good honest friendships, a brotherhood. We all give, and we all receive-”
“I ain’t receiving you, dickhead.”
Micro groaned, ignoring Grease, and passing the business card to me, which I tucked in the pocket inside my cut.
“Harley and Caroline are overseeing the demo and rebuild, so I’ll leave it in their capable hands. We all really appreciate the offer, Henley. We’re not looking to take advantage of new members, or prospective ones, but we’ll definitely consider some arrangement with you.”
Henley nodded, lifting his hands. “Can’t ask for more than that. I think the old president here would have snatched up my favour, and stabbed me in the back for my efforts.”
“True,” I replied, and Micro suddenly smirked, sending a sly look right at Grease.
“Good thing the club rose from the ashes then, eh?”