Tilly 26.
“Game is 5 Card Stud, Wild follows the Queen, ante is one dollar. 100 pennies. 20 nickels. 10 dimes. 4 quarters. Or a crisp Washington. What’ll it be boys…and girl.” Sammy sneers at me from across the round poker table set up in the corner of the clubroom.
“JP.” Wilson warns the young boy, who looks properly chagrined at the tone in the patched member’s voice.
“Sorry, Tilly. I didn’t mean anything by it…it’s just poker is really more of a man’s activity.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling at the 9-year-old. I don’t think he would appreciate it much, you know, as a man.
“Of course, thank you for letting me play with you.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” He mumbles, then winces and glares at Wilson for just a second, before pasting on a friendly closed mouth smile. He’s 9 and already has a customer service smile. Good Lord. “I mean, as Wilson’s Ol’ Lady, you are always welcome at my poker table.” His eyes dart to the chair next to mine. “And your brother.”
“Thanks, man.” Tybalt tips an imaginary hat toward Sammy, then gives him one of those crisp Washington’s. Suitably paid for his troubles, Sammy continues to deal our hand.
“Why is there a giant bowl in the backyard?” I glance away from my hand as McKinley points over his shoulder toward the back of the clubhouse.
Madison stands up from his spot on one of the couches with a smirk. “I told you I’d buy you the biggest fucking cauldron I could find. How about some Lancia McNamara stew?” McKinley pumps his fist and emits a loud whoop before running out of the room. Wilson meets my eyes and shakes his head subtly, so I keep my questions to myself and resume playing some 5 Card Stud.
Not long later, I’m up $3 and Tybalt is down $10 when Wheat alerts the brothers in the room that Special Agents Lomax and Fish are at the gate requesting an audience. Madison gives his permission, then turns to address the room.
“Normally, I’d bring the officers into Church with Lomax and Fish. However, I think at this point, it’s probably best for everyone to hear whatever they’ve got to say. JP!”
“Yes, Prez!” Sammy throws off his green visor and abandons the poker table to run to Madison. His little body skids to a halt.
“What happens at the clubhouse…” Madison begins, his white eyebrows rising in challenge. A challenge Sammy happily rises to meet.
“Stays at the clubhouse. And snitches get stitches.”
Ford bangs his hand on the table, startling me. “Fuck yeah, they do!” I lean back into Wilson’s firm chest and send a glare to Ford which he ignores.
Madison pats Sammy’s slender shoulder and urges him toward the bar. “See Cask about getting drinks ready for our guests.” Sammy nods eagerly, but instead of moving to fulfill his president’s request, he bounces from foot to foot. “JP?”
“I’m sorry, Prez, it’s just…I thought ‘guests’ weren’t given food or drink because they were PIMFA?”
Rearing back, Madison barks, “What the hell is PIMFA?”
Buck chokes on his beer, hastily standing to push Sammy out of the way and toward the bar. He glances nervously over his shoulder, “It’s nothin’, Prez, just a kid being a kid.”
“But Buck you said—”
“Snitches.” Buck whispers harshly, Sammy snaps his mouth shut.
“BUCHANAN!” Lincoln yells, Audrey fast on his heels as he makes a beeline for Buchanan at the bar. “What the hell are you teaching my son?”
“I’m afraid I have to invoke Uncle-Nephew privilege.” Turning my head, I bury my face in Wilson’s chest, my shoulders shaking. The look on Buck’s face was priceless. It’s a shame, he’s so pretty, but he won’t be when Lincoln’s done with him.
“How about I invoke my boot up your…” Lincoln glances at Audrey and changes course quickly, “backside.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch Buck exchange a shit-eating grin with Sammy. “Then you would be a PIMFA too!” He and the boy dissolve into a fit of giggles.
“WHAT IS PIMFA?!” Madison roars over the laughter of the room.
“Pain in my fucking ass, Prez.” Wilson yells over the top of my head.
“Oh.” Madison sounds so lost. “Why didn’t you just say that? Always gotta make things difficult, I shoulda ignored your mom and sent you to military school. I could have gotten her a dog to ease her pain. At least they listen.”
“Maybe. But they’d probably hump anything that moves, so it wouldn’t be any different.” Betty presses a kiss to her Ol’ Man’s cheek and sits down in Buck’s empty seat.
Tybs smiles at me, “I love it here.” I nod in agreement. I love it here too. And not just the cuddly man behind me that smells amazing.
The front door opens and Wheat escorts Lomax and Fish into the clubroom. In an instant, it’s eerily silent as we all stare at the two interlopers. I suppress a squee of excitement that I’m not an interloper. I’m a part of the Congressionals MC. That’s so gnarly. I still haven’t gotten used to being one of the cool kids.
It’s been a week since the two agents were last on Congressionals property. They retrieved Eric Rawson and haven’t been back. Until now.
“What do you want?” Madison wastes no time with pleasantries. And judging by Lomax’s reaction, I don’t think he minds.
“We need your help.”
“Huh. I wasn’t expecting that.” Tybalt says dumbfounded.
“May we speak privately?” Fish steps forward, inclining his head toward Madison.
Madison waves his hand, encompassing the room and its occupants. “You may speak freely in front of my club. What is it exactly you need our help with?” He motions to an empty table near the bar, and as soon as they’re sitting, Sammy balances a small tray of drinks, setting it down gently on the table.
“Thank you, JP.” Sammy grins widely, scampering back to the bar until his president requires his services again. Cask pats the boy on the shoulder and gives him a thumbs up.
“Eric Rawson, as you know, had every intention of fleecing the auction for everything it was worth.” Several grunts and curse words sound from around the room. Every brother, Ol’ Lady, prospect, and lobbyist are listening closely to Lomax as he explains. “Killed his own cousin to do it. However, someone appears to have piggybacked his scheme with one of their own. He set everything up with Patrice’s assistance. Then someone came in at the 11th hour and stole it out from underneath him. Our guys are tracking the money, but they lost it around the tenth transfer. Legally, we’ve reached a dead end.”
Fish taps his knuckles on the table, “Heard you might have alternate methods of obtaining information.”
“You want us to find a secret passage in that dead end.” Pierce moves to their table, dragging a seat over to sit down. He’s excited at the idea. Nerds are adorable. I should know, I am one.
“Everyone involved checks out, no money, no vintage motorcycles or jewelry.”
“And you don’t think Rawson has another partner that Patrice is unaware of?”
Fish shakes his head, “Honestly, the guy seems genuinely put out that someone stole from him. Which is ironic.”
“But who else could it be?”
Lomax meets Madison’s gaze straight on, “That’s why we’re here.”
We move the tables into a big circle, Pierce hooks up his tablet to the big screen television that occupies most of one of the clubroom walls, and Sammy is delivering drinks as fast as the prospects can make them.
“Rawson admitted to his plan, even showing us the accounts he set up to transfer the funds and the subsequent accounts where the money would be funneled through until landing in an offshore account under an assumed name. All with flashing zero balances. While normally, I’d say it was a ruse to distract us from the real money trail, the man was quite upset and confessed to everything, why hide the money he can’t use? He has warrants out for his arrest in several states and with the added federal charges for bank fraud, he’s looking at a long stint as someone’s prison bitch.” Lomax sighs in frustration as he sits back in his chair.
The television lights up with small windows, all containing the information I remember from what I was shown in Church over a week ago. I clutch Wilson’s hand on my lap as a lifeline. There is some damning evidence against myself and Wilson, and I’m beyond grateful that our innocence was proven, and Lincoln is on our side.
“I love you, Tandoori.” He whispers in my ear. Glancing up at him, I give him a soft smile before repeating the words and kissing him gently but purposefully.
I hadn’t noticed the music playing in the background until Betty and Stacy start singing along to “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing. Tybalt and I watched that movie so much as kids, my father banned any Patrick Swayze movies in the house. I meet Tybalt’s eyes from a couple seats down and grin obnoxiously at him while he mouths the words.
Suddenly, he snaps upright in his chair, his eyes darting left to right and back again as he thinks something through. I tap Wilson’s hand and point at Tybs. A few seconds later, while Lomax, Fish, Pierce, Madison, and Adams discuss the evidence, Tybalt stands up quickly, knocking his chair back and screams, “Schumachers!”
The room is silent except for Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes crooning, all heads swiveling to stare with open mouths at Tybalt. I think about what he just said, and a puzzle piece clicks into place in my head. I drop Wilson’s hand and stand too, closing the distance between my brother and I.
“Oh, my God, the Schumachers!”
“Care to explain, son?” Madison directs his question to my brother. Tybs swallows hard but meets the club president’s stern gaze.
“Yes, sir. Sorry. The song reminded me…in the movie Dirty Dancing a bunch of wallets were stolen from area resorts.”
Betty slaps her hand off the table she’s sitting at, and crows, “Schumachers!”
“Someone better fucking explain or I’m gonna start shooting!”
Lomax stares at Madison unimpressed. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“I heard it. Loud and clear.” Fish chuckles. That’s the first crack in the government armor I’ve seen from Fish. Makes him look 20 years younger.
“Tybalt.”
“Patrick Swayze’s character is accused of stealing the wallets and loses his job and Baby in the process and it’s a whole big thing. But it turns out that Johnny didn’t steal them—”
“Of course he didn’t! Johnny’s a good boy just trying to make a living grinding on older, bored females with their husband’s money to waste so he can continue his true passion…dance!” Stacy’s jazz hands really sell it.
“Uh-huh. What she said.” Tybs nods to Stacy and continues before Madison can pull the gun from his belt holster. “An elderly couple”, he spreads his arms out wide and lifts them theatrically for us to join him, “the Schumachers, had been moving from resort to resort liberating pocketbooks and wallets from their rightful owners.” Madison stares at my brother waiting for him to get to the point, only Tybs is waiting for Madison to catch up. I smirk as I move closer to Tybs and put my hand on his shoulder. He jumps, sees me and sags in relief.
“Prez.” I meet Madison’s eyes and my stomach flutters at the softening of his gaze at using his title. “Lomax, Fish. It’s Matt Michaels.”
Lomax’s brows furrow, “The chairman of Building A Village? The sweet old man who has helped countless communities build a better tomorrow? The same man who has reasonable debt, no record, and a gentle disposition?”
Tybs snorts, “Just because someone is ‘clean’ doesn’t mean they aren’t guilty. It means they’ve never been caught, or this is the first time they’ve broken the law.”
“Alright.” Fish looks at me, “What’s your reasoning?”
“Something’s been bothering me since we realized Eric Rawson was impersonating his cousin.” My heart races with excitement as the pieces continue to fall into place. I feel Wilson at my back and welcome his warmth and comfort. “Michaels said Dale Rawson had worked with him for years. If that’s true, how did he not know that Eric wasn’t Dale? I only saw a driver’s license photo and a grainy security still and could tell them apart.” Fish opens his mouth, but I’m on a roll. “And Michaels had access to the bank accounts set up for the charity gala, I sent him everything as I did it. We had to meet certain requirements for Building A Village, including transparency. And, and….Oooh, M. Night Shyamalan!”
“What the fuck?” Madison breathes out, hands on his hips, head down.
“It means there’s a twist, Prez.” Wilson adds helpfully.
“There were notes from the previous bank manager, not Patrice, about Building A Village and the potential community build. I’d love for Tybs to take credit, but this was in the works for over a year before the gala was even planned. Bureaucrats love red tape.” I say winking at Lomax and Fish. “Michaels also told me about his dealings with Raymond Murphy and how he is a lovely man and I had big shoes to fill.” Turning in Wilson’s arms, I look up at him, “It’s Matt Michaels and Raymond Murphy. They’re in on it together.”
“I believe you, baby, no need to pull out the big eyes.” Wilson leans down and softly touches his lips to mine, before spinning me back around to face the FBI agents and a very interested club president.
“When we interviewed Michaels the day after the theft, he was so…so…nice.”
Several brothers and a few ladies yell, “Schumachers!”
Lomax ducks his head, “I get it. I get it.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously, Fish does the same. “Our team is gonna track down Michaels and Murphy and go through their lives with a fine-toothed comb.
Pierce and Fields start laughing while looking at their tablets. Fields looks up with a boyish grin, “I can tell you that Mrs. Michaels has a substantial amount of debt in her maiden name and Raymond Murphy got a speeding ticket two days ago in a rental truck in North Dakota. That’s a fair distance from his registered address in southern Kentucky.”
“Shit!” The agents jump from their seats and wave a hasty goodbye. “We’ll be in touch! Thanks!”
Madison stares at the door for several moments after it closes behind the agents. With a sigh he turns around and pins me and Tybalt with a hard gaze. “You solved this because of a cheesy, ridiculous 80’s movie?” Gasps of outrage sound around the room, including Madison’s own Ol’ Lady.
Audrey moves to stand beside me, throwing her arm around my shoulders and hip checking Wilson to the side. “One of the GREATEST cinematic masterpieces of not only the 80’s but of our lives, featuring an epic soundtrack, Jennifer Gray’s nose before surgery, and an Oscar worthy performance from none other than Jerry Orbach. That man could do no wrong, even when he admitted he was wrong, and said he was wrong, he did it so…right. Also, the dancing is infamous.”
Madison opens his mouth once, twice, three times before snapping it shut. He steps up on the chair next him and thumps his boot on the table twice. “The next one of you fuckers to bring another chick into this clubhouse and be stupid enough to claim her, I’m shooting you in the dick!” Every single male, including my brother, cups their crotch at his threat. Betty tuts at her Ol’ Man and crooks her finger at him, walking backward toward the stairs, a sinful smile on her face. Madison might talk a good game, but his…uh…appendage does the thinking. I swear there’re skid marks on the ground, he moves so fast to catch her. Lifting her up over his shoulder, he carries her upstairs, her giggling echoing in the hallway.
“Well, that was gross. Prospect! I need a beer. Lobbyists! I need a blow job!” Buck’s entire body shivers with disgust and my smile at his antics quickly turns to a frown when LaToya saunters over to him.
“Time to go, Sammy!” Audrey waves her hand at the boy and though he opens his mouth to argue, he wisely snaps it shut. His eyes widen as he follows her and Lincoln, taking in the spectacle LaToya and Buck are making.
“Pops, what’s a blow job again? Does he need one of those air things that blows up my basketball?”
Audrey growls and smacks Lincoln’s butt as he tries to answer. “Uh…yes. That’s exactly what it is.”
“Ok. I thought so. I need a blow job too. My football is soft.”
“Jesus.” Wilson whispers, laughing against my neck as he wraps his arms around me from behind. “Tandoori. You wanna go up to our room, watch Dirty Dancing and try the lift?” I release a squeal that would rival even the loudest pig.
He’s fast on my heels the whole way to our suite, tackling me to the soft bed once it’s in reach. I push him off me, and roll off the bed, standing to assess the amount of space we have.
“Why are you staring at the ceiling?”
“I’m trying to figure out if you’re too tall. I don’t want to knock myself out when you lift me.”
“Oh.” He snorts, “You actually want to do the lift.”
With a hand to my chest, I spin around. “I would NEVER joke about the Dirty Dancing lift. It is every girl’s dream.” Wilson nods in understanding, but I know he’s trying not to laugh in my face. Whatever, boys are dumb.
“Gotcha. Well, how about we merge our dreams together.”
I take a step, he takes a step, closing the distance between us. “I’m listening.”
“Your dream is for me to lift you above my head.” I nod. “And mine is for you to be naked.”
I choke on my own spit. “You want me naked! Above you! Where you can see all the bits and pieces!”
“Tilly, you know how strong I am.” I do. He may be wiry, but he’s got muscles. I’m not saying I’m light as a feather, but he’s proven he can handle my weight already. “We strip. You run to me. I lift you up.” I’m so excited at the prospect, I’m leaning toward him as he speaks, picturing it all in my mind. “Then I put your pussy on my mouth.”
My breath catches and my clit throbs. “Am I still in the air when I…when my pussy…” His answering grin is potent. “That…that sounds Dirty.”
“Do we have a deal? A merging of dreams.” I dart my eyes down, see his erection pushing at the zipper of his jeans and lick my lips. I start to nod but decide to push my luck.
“Can I call you Johnny Castle?”