7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Kaison
I sit down at the table with my plate of food and dig in. Spam made his famous breakfast burritos. The guy should open his own restaurant. He cooks so fucking good—everything is always juicy and with the right amount of seasoning—but he says he ain’t interested. Whatever. I still get to eat it. Cooking ain’t for me, not in any way. Don’t remember the last time I cooked something outside of a microwave or tossing a pizza in the oven.
“Listen up!” Grizz shouts, walking into the room from the back door. My brother is hot on his heels. “Me and Snapper are getting shit together for the summer charity event. You know how this goes. You give us ideas, you give us your time and all your damn attention until this thing is done, we got that?”
There’s a round of yeses from everyone in the clubhouse within earshot.
“Good. Glad to fucking hear it,” is his response .
He sits across from me after getting a plate of food. My brother sits beside him, looking like he’s ready to flip his lid already this early in the morning. He don’t eat food with flavor, so he don’t eat anything Spam makes.
“What did you do to him?” I ask Grizz, nodding toward my brother.
“I didn’t do a single fucking thing. He showed up all pissy like someone shit in his cereal.”
“I don’t eat cereal,” Snapper says, jabbing away at his phone.
Who the hell is he texting like that?
“You know what I mean,” Grizz says, waving him off, then turning to me. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Heard you pissed off Dunner.”
“When isn’t he pissing off Dunner?” Rhino drops into the seat beside me, his plate full with five burritos. “Hell, when isn’t he pissing off anyone?”
“You going to eat all that?” I ask, ignoring his comment.
“Hell to the fucking yes I am. Spam never makes this shit anymore, and it’s my favorite.”
“You’d eat shit if it had enough salt on it,” Snapper says.
“Damn right I would,” Rhino says seriously, but I know he’s joking.
“What did you do this time?” Snapper asks me, putting his phone down.
“Not a damn thing I shouldn’t have. I got all those guns off Harry’s property and dropped them off at the station. Ed almost shot me for the last fucking time. Besides, it’s Dunner’s goddamn responsibility to handle this shit, and when he doesn’t want to do it, I have no problem doing it for him and then letting him know that I did.”
“Motherfucker dumped about a hundred guns on his doorstep,” Grizz says, wheezing out a laugh.
“It was hardly thirty,” I say.
“I heard it was seventy-two,” Rhino says.
“No the fuck you did not,” I bark, picking up a burrito.
“Well, anyway, you guys have any new ideas for this charity event?” my brother asks.
No nonsense, that one. Always. Can’t even have a fun conversation with the guy.
“Yeah, how about one of them kissing booths?” Rhino says, wagging his eyebrows. “Grizz can show off his hairy ass for people to kiss.” He laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.
It’s not.
“We’re not trying to traumatize the children, Rhino. We’re raising money for them to get a better library,” Snapper adds calmly. For being in a bad mood, he’s sure keeping his shit together.
“No way in hell am I putting my ass on display so your horny ass can try shoving your dick in it,” Grizz shouts at Rhino.
“Your ass is the last thing I want my dick in, fucker.”
Grizz rolls his eyes .
“I’m trying to eat here,” I say. “I don’t want to think about dicks or Grizz’s hairy ass.”
Rhino laughs harder, then picks up his second burrito and finishes it in three bites.
The guy can put food away, and I have no idea where the fuck it goes. He’s no bigger than the rest of us. Maybe even in better shape, too.
“Yo, Shark! Someone wants to see you,” Turtle calls from the doorway.
“Bet it’s the sheriff looking for a place to shove all those guns,” Rhino says, busting out laughing. “You know what I’m saying, Shark?” He keeps laughing, and I just shake my head.
“I’ll shove them so fucking far up his ass he’ll taste the metal,” I say as I get up and head for the door.
When I’m outside, I look around, but don’t see Dunner, Shaw, or anyone else who could wanna see me.
“The fuck—”
“Shark?”
I turn around to face the door, and a few feet from it, leaning against the building, is Noah. Terry’s son, from the convenience store.
“You here for me?” I ask as he walks toward me.
He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and stopping in front of me. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”
He’s a young kid. Maybe not even twenty-one yet. Baby face, too scrawny .
“About?” I ask carefully. “Everything okay at the store? Those Iron pricks show back up?”
“Nah, they didn’t. Everything with the store is good. I, uh…” He clears his throat before sneaking a glance at the clubhouse. “I was hoping to join the club.”
My brows shoot to my hairline. “You wanna join the Merciless Few?”
“Yeah,” he says confidently, nodding his head.
Over the years, there have been plenty of people wanting to join the club. Most of them don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. The others aren’t cut out for the life. We’re a small chapter in a small town. We like it that way. It’s easier to manage, to control, to keep people in line. Less room for fuck ups and people to screw us over. Though we have ways of dealing with those who do, we don’t actually wanna do that shit to anyone. We won’t hesitate to do it, though.
After Noah stares at me for a long time, I finally laugh. “Your daddy ain’t gonna like that.”
He frowns. “I don’t care what my father thinks.”
“No?”
“No,” he says firmly, holding his chin up.
Noah is a good kid. Graduated top of his class, from what I heard. He’s smart. Could do anything with his life, but he’s stuck working in that tiny ass store with his father because that’s what these small-town folk make their kids do. They don’t want them to leave and have better lives. They want them stuck here just like they are. Fucking small town mindset bullshit .
Noah hasn’t grown into his man skin yet. He could pass for sixteen, but I’d believe it if he said he was twenty-one. His hair is too floppy and his skin too soft. The kid ain’t rugged enough. He needs to be toughened up, and by the look on his face, he’s okay with that.
“Why you wanna join?”
“I see what you do for the community, and I want to be part of it.”
He answers quickly. He’s been thinking about this.
“There are plenty of ways to help your community, kid.”
He shifts on his feet, stepping closer. “But this is different. This comes with family, with brothers. With respect. When I do something around here, it’ll mean something. Not just to me or the club, but the community, too.”
“Newsflash: a lot of this community don’t like us. Your father included.”
Noah shakes his head. “I don’t care. I want this. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in the Merciless Few.”
He holds my gaze, his brown eyes lit up with determination. I’m not sure the kid will cut it, but it’s been a while since we’ve had a prospect. Coyote may want him in here just to piss off Terry. The guys will be happy the place will be clean again, and they won’t have to do the shopping and shit.
“I’ll talk to the guys and see what they say.” He grins, but I hold a finger up. “But this isn’t a walk in the park, kid. This ain’t like a fucking science club, you got that? It’s serious work. It’s loyalty. Blood in, blood out. These guys here, you have to be willing to die for them, you understand that?”
“I understand. Really, I do.” He’s serious when he says it, nodding and everything.
I jerk my head toward the road. “All right, get outta here. I’ll be in touch.”
He smiles again, then takes off in a jog, getting into the beater pickup truck I see parked at the store all the time.
Fucking kids.
When I get back inside, my food is still waiting for me, but it’s cold. Doesn’t stop me from eating it. And when I’m done, I grab my phone from the charger, grinning when I see a text from Cora.
“Yo, Snapper!” I call. He lifts his head from whatever he’s doing on his laptop at the desk in the corner. “We’re getting lunch at the diner today.”
“We had lunch at the diner yesterday,” he says, as if that’s a reason to not go.
“And we’re doing it again today. Be ready, we leave at one.”
If my brother didn’t hate me before, he hates me now—and I can’t help but laugh about it.
When I said we leave at one, I meant twelve forty-five, which Snapper did not like. When you say something to him, you better stick to it. He’s been grumpy since. Though, according to Grizz, he was in a bad mood since this morning, so I guess it’s possible it ain’t my fault at all.
We park our bikes in front of the diner a few minutes after one and head inside.
Cora says she gets off at two, so we’ll eat till then and I’ll talk to her after.
The place is busy as fuck, like it usually is around this time. Cora and one other waitress are running around handling all the tables. I don’t understand how this place can always be so fucking short staffed. Management sucks. At least there’s a bus boy here today. Usually there isn’t.
I lean against the wall in the small alcove near the doors, waiting for a table to empty. There is a line forming behind us.
The young waitress, Fia, who works here often, stops in front of us with a tray up by her shoulder.
“See that table over there?” She points to one toward the back of the diner. “The one with the two older ladies?”
“The twins?” I ask, knowing them well.
She nods. “Bet if you go over there, they’ll gladly let you sit with them. And it may work in your favor.” She winks before hurrying to her tables.
I smirk, looking at my brother, who groans, shaking his head, but starts walking anyway.
We stop in front of the table with the twins. Everyone in town knows who they are. They’re our town’s only set of identical twins, so they’re practically famous. Born and raised here, too. They own one of the biggest pieces of land in the town, and don’t do a damn thing with it but live happily.
“Hi, ladies,” I say as sweetly as I can. They smile a mile wide. “Heard you may want some company?”
The one near me pushes to the end, making room. “Move on over, Betsy. Let him in,” she says to her sister, who happily does so.
I don’t like sitting in the booths because there isn’t much space. I’m a big guy, and so sitting here ain’t too comfortable, but I’ll make an exception today because I wanna know what this is all about.
Betsy scoots over, making room for Snapper, who sits down, looking grumpier than a cat who’s just had a bath.
“Oh, Cora? Cora dear?” Betsy calls out with a wave of her hand, causing Snapper to flinch, since she’s yelling right in his ear.
“One moment,” Cora calls back while keeping her attention on the table she’s waiting. She nods a few times, taking something down on her notepad, and with her attention still on it, she turns and walks to our table.
“What can I get for you la—” Her words cut off when she looks up, her eyes going wide when they land on me. And damn if that doesn’t feel good.
“We just wanted to let you know that our table of two has turned into a table of four ,” Bitsy says, patting my arm… then petting it.
Fucking old ladies. No shame. No damn shame .
Cora is stunned into silence for another few seconds before shaking out of it.
“Right, of course.” She smiles at me, then at my brother. “What can I get you? Do you need menus?”
I say yes, the same time my brother barks out a no.
“No?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “I’m tired of diner food. I’m not eating it again.”
Cora frowns. “Is there something wrong with it?” She sounds genuinely concerned. She’s too nice.
“No,” I say before he can say anything. “He’s just weird with his food. Doesn’t like the same thing too often is all.”
That’s not exactly the truth. He has some food he’ll eat every damn day, but it’s easier to explain it this way than explain he’s just an asshole.
“Oh, um, okay… I’ll be right back with your menu.” She walks to the front, stopping at a table on the way to clear empty plates.
“The fuck you gotta say that shit for?” I whisper-shout to Snapper, leaning across the table.
“I told you I didn’t want to come here,” he says.
“Doesn’t mean you have to be rude,” I growl.
“Look at them, fighting like brothers,” Betsy says with a sigh.
“We are,” I answer. She lights up.
“Twins?”
I shake my head. “Thankfully, no. He’s ten and a half months younger than me. ”
“Oh, Irish twins then!” Bitsy says.
I grin. “Sure. I didn’t catch your name.”
I know their names. Everyone does. But we haven’t been formally introduced, and so I don’t wanna be rude.
“I’m Bitsy,” she says. “That’s Betsy.”
I hold out my hand, all awkward-like because of the table. “Shark. That’s Snapper.”
“Oh, what interesting names,” she says, shaking my hand. Hers is small, frail, and cold.
“Here you go,” Cora says, dropping the menu at the table. “Do you want coffee while you look?”
“Yes, please,” I say, and she heads off to get the pot.
“She’s got the hots for you,” Bitsy says in a hushed whisper behind her hand so only I can hear.
“Does she now?”
“Sure does,” Betsy adds with a head nod. “Been looking at you for months.”
“Months?”
“For fuck’s sake,” my brother mutters, running his hand down his face.
“That’s right. I always ask her every time I see you. I say, ‘Cora, when you going to ask that handsome man out?’”
“And what does she say?” I play her little game, knowing she’s getting a thrill out of this. Half the town will know about this by tomorrow morning.
“Well, it’s always something different. She’s busy. No time. Her dad’s not well. You know, the sort of reasons she should want to go on a date. Girl has no fun in her life. She’s young. She needs fun.”
Betsy nods all the while. “She could use some fun,” she says in agreement. “All young girls need that.”
“Here’s your coffee,” Cora says, putting it down in front of me.
“You still getting off at two?” I ask.
She blinks at me. “Yes,” she finally says, and I love that I make her speechless. Almost as much as I love the blushing.
“Great. I’ll be here.”
“Oh, really? Okay. I, um… yeah. Great.” She forces a smile, then hurries over to the window to grab a few plates that she delivers to a table.
I lean close to Bitsy and say, “That girl’s gonna love me one day.”
Her eyes get all watery, and I swear they fill with little hearts.