Liberty: Congressionals MC Book Two
Wilson 1.
“Kohlman Associates, how may I help you?” I hate covering for Kadisha when she’s at lunch, or running errands, or setting one of us straight…as she is right now in Lincoln’s office, loudly. If she wasn’t so damn good at her job, she’d have been on her ass long ago, sister or not.
“H-hello. Uh, my name is Tilly, Matilda, and I’m calling on behalf of the City of Independence’s Community Services.” The woman’s voice is timid, soft, almost breathy. Not like the women I’m surrounded with day in and day out, not even Lincoln’s Ol’ Lady Audrey is this quiet. And certainly not the lobbyists vying for any available member’s cock to ride.
“Hello, Tilly,” I reply smoothly, smirking at her intake of breath. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh. Well. Not me personally, but the City of Independence and Kenton County greatly need your help. We are hosting a fundraiser—” She cuts off when I groan. It’s not that the club doesn’t like to help the community, it’s that usually the city and its officials stay far away from the Congressionals MC and its affiliates. Still, I’m intrigued…by her. And I’m willing to play ball if it means she’ll talk to me more. This is the most fun I’ve had all week.
“Tilly, how about you cut to the chase.”
“Pardon me?” So polite. My smirk reappears.
“You want money? Auction items? Security? Legal advice?”
“Uh…can I…I’m sorry, can I just say what I have written down?” She asks in a strained whisper, and I suddenly feel bad.
“Sure, sweetheart. I’m all ears.”
“Th-thank you.” She clears her throat and in a measured voice, reads her prompt. “Independence, Kentucky is a growing community. And as we grow, it is important to avail our valued citizens of any and all resources to ensure they prosper personally or professionally alongside our great city.” I roll my eyes but keep silent. “The city council has approved plans for a state-of-the-art facility, in conjunction with the community improvement charity, Building A Village, that will cater to the needs of everyone from infancy to retirement and every age in between. However, as I am sure you are aware, such plans come with a hefty price tag. We are asking not only local businesses to donate money, items for auction, and time to such an important endeavor, but encouraging those from surrounding communities in Kentucky to as well. On Saturday April 27, we will host a black-tie dinner and auction to raise money and attention for such an important cause. Can we count on your business to reserve a table at the dinner, and donate at least one item to the night’s auction?”
It”s not a bad idea. I need more details to bring it to the table at Church tomorrow. Even as Club Secretary, I can’t make these kinds of decisions on my own. My president, Madison, and our treasurer, Hayes, will need to weigh in.
“Do you have an informational packet with details regarding the charity you mentioned, fundraising goals, disbursement breakdowns, and ticket and table costs?”
There’s a moment of silence in which I can hear her breathing heavily, almost like she’s excited. “Absolutely. I mean, I don’t have one, but I can certainly speak to my broth—I mean the Community Services director and get back to you as soon as possible. May I have your email address?” I chuckle to myself at her enthusiasm; I assume other businesses she’s spoken to haven’t been as friendly. I rattle off my club email. “Thank you, sir, thank you very much for your time.”
“Call me Wilson. And thank you for reaching out to us, we don’t get many opportunities to help the community. I look forward to speaking with you again soon.”
“Me too! Bye, Wilson!”
I put the office phone back in its receiver and stare at it with a bemused smile.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Kadisha asks as she throws some files down on her desk I’m currently occupying. She leans down until her face is inches from mine, her long braids like a waterfall around us, and then grabs my chin and attempts to move my face left to right. I bat her hand away and stand up, putting some distance between us.
“There’s nothing wrong with my face.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Wilson. And I ain’t beholding any beauty when I look at you.” She cackles at her own joke. Sticking my tongue out at her, I stride down the hall to my own office.
“Nepotism at its finest.” I bitch loud enough for her to hear.
“I know, it sucks y’all are stuck with Lincoln because I’m indispensable.” Implying her older brother is only here because of her is laughable. Once upon a time, before I became club secretary after Lincoln’s parents died in a motorcycle accident, I used my own expensive law degree to represent the club in legal matters, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was happy to pass the torch to Lincoln when he passed the bar and embraced his vision for something different. Something worthwhile.
These last 6 years or so have been some of the most rewarding in my life. I was proud to prospect and patch in to become a full member of the Congressionals MC, and I carry that pride with me every day. But helping Lincoln with his cases, locking up child molesters, murderers, getting closure for victims and their families…that is an accomplishment that defies words. It has become our lifeblood over the years and no case was more difficult or rewarding than Sammy’s last year.
Our junior prospect was brutally raped at just 8 years old by his estranged uncle. His parents, Sam Senior and Laura, came home to find him…anyway, Senior killed his own brother, grabbed Sammy and went straight to the hospital. What happened to their family in the aftermath is the stuff of nightmares. And while not everyone made it out unscathed, Sammy is thriving here with the Congressionals MC, and his aunt Audrey and Lincoln have the type of love that inspires movies and novels.
Most might see us as bad men because of what we ride or wear, but I’ve never met a group of people with more heart and honor than my club brothers. We are a family, and most civilians will never know that type of loyalty. Like I told Tilly, we don’t get asked to do much for the community, if the local government is involved. We aren’t hated, but we aren’t liked either. We’re tolerated, unless someone needs something. Most of us accepted long ago that’s the price of freedom, and we’re quite content.
I wake up my computer, grab the stack of requests Lincoln gave me before Kadisha stormed into his office like a marauding Viking, and leaf through it. Mostly case law, but one of them is a deep dive into a dead-beat mom who won’t sign away her parental rights to the father, nor will she pay child support as mandated by the court. Before I get started, I pull up my inbox and grin like a loon when I see an email from Matilda Mazekat with the subject, “Community Multiplex”. I click on it and read the short missive.
Dear Mr. Wilson,
Per our phone conversation, I have attached some preliminary information regarding our fundraising efforts for the proposed community multiplex. Once the additional details you have requested are compiled, I will email them to you promptly.
Thank you for your time and attention. I look forward to working with you and your business to build a safe and prosperous Independence.
Sincerely,
Matilda Mazekat
Independence Community Services Liaison
P.S. Thanks for not hanging up on me after I said the word fundraiser!
Sitting back in my chair, I laugh rereading the last sentence of an otherwise professional email. As I thought, not everyone in the community was receptive to the cold call for money. Normally, we wouldn’t be either. But her voice…I want to hear more of it. Put a face to it soon.
Clicking on one of the attachments, I give myself a few minutes to look over the proposal. Even without Tilly’s voice bouncing around my head and skittering down my spine, their idea has merit. And if successful, could be beneficial to a great many people. Thinking about Sammy and his friend Enzo, just 9 years old, and their involvement in the club. What do other kids their age have to occupy their minds and teach them valuable life lessons and skills? At the opposite end of the spectrum, Madison and the other founding members are in their fifties and sixties. They’ve lived hard lives and lean on one another and the club. What resources do others their age have available?
Printing out what she’s sent so far, I put it in my satchel bag to bring home later. I’ll bring it up at Church and do some digging into those involved. In the meantime, I better get to work before Kadisha comes in here and rips me a new one.