Thirty-Six
D ay one was a fucking shitshow, starting with me arriving with Soph at the soon-to-be Phoenix MC Hampshire Chapter clubhouse. We were greeted warily, and I immediately called Church. With the leftovers from the showdown, and a few members who’d not been around that day, and a certain prospect who I recognised from before, we had a fairly empty room, and a bunch of hostile faces.
“Look, I get that shit went down, and you didn’t like how it panned out, but you didn’t die, so here are your options. Stick with me, embrace the new ethos of the club, and stand to be patched over in six months. If not, there’s the door. I have no issues if you wanna make a break for it, because this club isn’t going to be like it was. You’re in it for rape and shit, get the fuck out of my sight.”
Nobody moved, but those glares became more intense, and, with the exception of Harley, who’d pretty much embraced everything from the second he survived the attack, I had no idea if any of them were on board.
“This club was toxic as fuck, and had to be put down like a rabid dog. I don’t promise that I’ll be a perfect president, but what I can promise is that I’ll put my fucking blood, sweat and… everything into raising the club to fucking greatness. I’m not gonna fuck around, we have more people coming, who’ll be taking up with the club, and this is happening whether anyone here likes it or not. You want out, walk, and don’t come back.”
I stood up again, and nobody else moved. Did that mean they were staying? Nope, one guy, road name Shark, stood up too.
“Fuck you. I’m not hanging around to be part of a fucking pussy club.” He took off his cut and tossed it on the table, pausing a moment to spit on it. Charming . I forced myself to not react, instead watching him walk for the door. Was there a risk he’d do damage out there? Probably, but Soph was in the corner of the fucking room with me, and she was the only thing that mattered.
“Anyone else wanna spit on their old colours and fuck off?”
Nobody else moved, and I sighed. Maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.
“Harley, you’ll stick around, so we can talk finances and shit. Everyone else, move on. We’ll talk about everything else later, but for now, keep getting this place back in order. I’ll meet with everyone individually later.”
Not a single fucker spoke or acknowledged me as they left, but why the hell would they? In a hostile takeover of my own club, I’d have been resentful too.
“That was pleasant,” I said quietly, as I sat back down with Harley, and gestured to Soph to join us.
“Not really the norm, having the old lady here, Pres, but I get that nothing is the norm right now. I can take you through our finances, and I think you’ll be pretty impressed. We were making good profits before this all happened.”
Soph practically growled beside me. “Yeah, not paying your suppliers really helps you make a tidy buck.”
Harley rolled his eyes at her, and turned to me again.
“Wasn’t exactly shit I had control over. You’re bringing someone in to do this stuff, right?”
I shook my head. “We have a tech guy coming in, and two members of Phoenix Wiltshire, and that’s it. You able to keep the treasury role for now at least?”
He sighed. “Whatever. Look, there are two guys here you’ll need to watch. They may be playing nice right now, but I don’t think they’re on board, and I don’t think they’ll ever be that way.”
That’s what I’d been afraid of, so I nodded at him to continue.
“Burn and Roadkill are kinda insane, and they liked it the way it was. Crusher let them do whatever the fuck they wanted, and they enjoyed every sick thing they could get up to. They’re playing along for now, but they’ll try to kill you. Her too.”
Fucking great. “Give me everything you have on them,” I demanded, and he smirked.
“I just did. I wasn’t tech, and that guy’s dead now, so if your guy can’t get into his shit, you’re flying blind.” He stood up, clearly thinking this shit was done and finished.
“You got somewhere to be?”
“I can be of more use out there right now. You’ve got a pissed off bunch of bikers, and nobody keeping an eye on them.”
I let him leave, leaning forward and tapping my forehead against the table surface.
“We’re fucked. This isn’t going to work.”
“Hey, look at me. Reacher and Stitch think you can do this, so you have to believe that they know what they’re talking about.”
“Yeah, or they know this is a fucking doomed venture, so they’re keeping their hands clean while getting rid of the trash, aka me .”
Rumbling of incoming motorbikes had us both up and leaving the small meeting room, to go out and meet an incoming Phoenix contingent, and the leftover Rogues were already cursing at them.
“Rocket, Stag, welcome. Who the fuck’s that with you?” I asked, as I joined them at their rides, and they both dismounted, tossing their backpacks on the ground. I hadn’t expected any of them for a few days, but maybe having them here immediately would be a good thing. Unless they added to my troubles instead of improving them. Time would tell.
“Grease. You knew he was coming, right?” Stag asked, jerking a thumb at the mafia bastard, as he slowly parked up his ride, and ignored me.
“Great. That bell-end.”
Surprisingly, Stag seemed fairly welcoming, and greeted me like a friend before he buggered off to look for a room, but Rocket was a little less friendly.
“Hey, man, thanks for being here.”
He simply lifted an eyebrow at me.
“I’m here because I needed a change of scenery. I’m not here for you. I’m here for them. I owe you nothing.”
Nice . So this club hates me, and my old brothers hate me, and why the fuck do Reacher and Stitch think there’s a chance in hell that this won’t go south?
“Fair enough. Go settle in, there are plenty of spare rooms.” We’d had them cleaned out, once the dead were removed, but the place was run down and needed upkeep. I guess the Rogues had spent more time fucking and fighting, than making sure their fucking roof would stay up.
“Eat me,” Rocket hissed, as he shoved his way past me, and a few of the Rogues laughed. I turned, grabbed the back of Rocket’s cut, dragging him toward me, and shoved him down on the ground.
“The fuck do you think you are? This is my club now. I’m your President now, and you’ll fucking show me some respect. You wanna fight this shit out, let’s get it done.”
Rocket scrambled up again, and brushed dust off his cut as he glared at me.
“Sorry, Pres . My bad. Can I go now?” Whoa, I really thought he’d fight. In fact, I was kinda counting on it. It’d help relieve my stress, and show the Rogues that I wasn’t a pussy they could easily overpower.
“Get the fuck outta my sight,” I growled at him, as Grease hauled his own bag up onto his shoulder, and started in my direction. I opened my mouth to say hi, and his fist hit me square in the face, knocking me back onto my ass. The fucker towered over me, and smirked.
“Nice to see ya, Micro. You’re still a cunt, I see.”
I got up and he let me, but he wasn’t backing down, and now I was looking like the weak link here.
“Wasn’t expecting a sucker-punch from you, dickhead. Guess you know you can’t take me if I have time to prepare.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Where do you want me to set up?”
“Why don’t you turn right around, and get the fuck off my property, assface?”
Grease grinned, looking around us at the audience gathering to watch our showdown.
“You need me, and you know it. You had that coming, but I’m done now. I ain’t got no beef with ya.”
I rubbed my jaw, easing it back and forth, after taking that unexpected hit.
“That was your one freebie, you know that, right?”
He laughed, but I had a feeling if the mafia cunt wanted me dead, I already would be.
“You know exactly where the tech room is, you nosy fucker, you’ve already seen the specs for the place. Get set up, and see about getting into the dead guy’s shit. I wanna know everything on everyone who’s still breathing.”
I leaned closer and lowered my voice.
“Start with Burn and Roadkill. They’re the problem apparently.”
He nodded, briefly cast his eyes over a nervous looking Sophie, and headed into the building behind the bunkhouse. Yeah, of course he knew exactly where everything was. That was his job.
“Show’s over, you lot. Get back to work.”