CHAPTER 5
Shar
Back at the clubhouse, Crack walks through to Sharp’s office and I quickly go to my bedroom where I wash up before I find something to eat for myself and Crack.
A tap on the door has me walking from the bathroom and opening it. Seeing it’s Zara, I smile at her. “Hi, Zara, what are you doing here?”
“I’m having a week’s break from my studies. I’m well in front and now I’m doing all my schooling online. I can do it anytime during the day, and if I get it all done, my dad doesn’t care.”
Following me into the bedroom, I close the bathroom door, then turn to Zara.
“Come on, let’s go find something for lunch. I’m going to be discussing some ideas for the strip club later with Crack and Sharp. I’m not sure how keen they will be on some things I’m going to suggest.”
I chuckle to myself but see Zara rolling her eyes, too.
“These Neanderthals don’t like change much, I can tell you. If you want to alter a lot of things right away, they’ll not be happy about it.”
I consider that, and maybe I should just throw a few ideas out to them, rather than all of my thoughts and ideas at once.
“Yeah, I think you’re probably right, Zara, and I’ll probably just give them a few things to think about now. I can sneak up on them with other things as we go along.”
In the kitchen, the whore called Sandy gives us a nasty look as we enter, but I give her one right back and place my hands on my hips to show her I’m happy to throw down, if that’s what she wants.
Zara giggles, and Sandy turns to look at her, curling her lip. I step closer to her and point into her face. “Don’t even think about being disrespectful to a brother's daughter. She’s a club princess and not a club whore like you, or the others, and you can let them all know that, too.”
“Fuck you,”
Sandy snaps, but I laugh and respond, “Not with anyone’s dick would I fuck you.”
Zara is covering her mouth, trying her best not to laugh, but I don’t care. I laugh at the glare the whore seems to think will bother me. When someone wraps an arm around my neck from behind, I turn my head and see Sharp grinning. “You causing trouble already, Shar?”
“Na, I’m just telling this whore her position in the club is far lower in the pecking order than Zara’s, and if she isn’t respectful to Zara, I’ll kick her ass around the compound.”
Zara walks over to the coffee machine and rolls her eyes. “It’s empty. I’ll clean it out and put fresh on.”
“Thanks, sweetie, you’re a gem. What do you want for lunch?”
I open the fridge and drag out eggs and milk. Then check the cabinets and find the flour. Clapping my hands with delight, I grin. “Pancakes. Do you fancy them, Zara?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
I turn to look at Sharp. “Do you want some?”
The smile he gives me answers my question. I quickly get the pancake batter made, two skillets heating on the stove and Zara cutting fruit we can have with them. Opening the cabinet, I take out a bottle of maple syrup and smile to myself, as this is going to be a pleasant lunch.
Now, I enjoy cooking, but as I keep making pancakes, brothers keep appearing and sitting at the kitchen tables, waiting for pancakes to be made. I will not complain about it as they all look like little boys waiting for momma’s cooking.
Zara keeps making fresh batches of batter and we keep pushing the whores out of the way as they wander into the kitchen, sniffing and trying to get involved. But hey, call me a bitch, but I’m not cooking for them. They are more than capable of cooking for themselves and the brothers.
As the brothers have finished eating, they one by one walk over, kiss Zara’s cheek, and thank me for the lunch. Gunner walks in and I refrain from reacting because I know it would hurt Zara and that’s the last thing I want to do.
“Have you any of those left?”
Gunner asks, hugging Zara and kissing the top of her head. We plate half a dozen pancakes and pile on some of the mixture of strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries, before drizzling maple syrup over the stack. Zara grins then hands the plate to Gunner, who kisses her on the top of her head once more and shouts a thank you to me. Surprising me with his show of affection for his daughter, I have to think, maybe he’s a changed man?
Sharp is still sitting at the table, drinking coffee and talking to some of his men. They all look deep in conversation, so Zara and I take our plates of pancakes over to the end of the row of tables so they are not overheard.
“I’m going to give Mia a call later. Do you want to speak to her when I do?”
I ask Zara, and she gives me a small smile.
“I’m not sure that Mia wants me to stay in touch too much now. I love her, but I didn’t do right by her when she was accused and eventually sent to prison. I will always regret it and will always hate myself for it because I was a coward.”
“How do you think other kids would have reacted? You were only a very young child. Give yourself a break. I know Mia has no bad feelings toward you at all. She’s just so busy now, with being the first lady of the club, she has all the women to watch out for. She is a joint owner of a bar, and she does a lot around the clubhouse.”
I pick up our plates and rinse them out at the sink, then between us, we rinse off everyone’s plates and fill the dishwasher before setting it going. Now, I’ve got to get something done or the afternoon will be over.
Sharp and the brothers left the kitchen a short while ago, so I’m going to have to find out who to speak to if Sharp and Crack are busy. Looking around, I see Trip walking out the front door of the clubhouse, so I chase after him.
“Trip, have you got a minute?”
I ask as I catch him up.
“What’s up, Shar?”
“I want to have a ride out to that garage Mr. Seaguard owns. But I think it would be good to be alone, rather than be seen with one of you guys. Trouble is, I don’t know what the place would be worth if I have a look around and then throw him an offer.
“Well, I can’t say I don’t agree with you, ‘cause that old bastard won’t sell to us no matter the size of the offer.”
Taking my elbow, Trip guides me back into the clubhouse and straight to Bank's office.
For the next forty minutes, we discuss how much I should offer if given the chance and what I need to look at and pretend to know about. I also get Trip’s number on my phone so I can call him if I need to get any information. I can even pretend he’s my business partner. I can’t help the grin when I ask what Trip’s name is, as I can’t give his club name if I call, and when he quickly throws Zayne Spillers, I can’t help the grin that crosses my face.
I follow Trip through town and when he indicates the garage I pull into the forecourt while Trip continues forward. Parking, I step out and drop my shades over my eyes, looking around as if I know something about a garage.
The place has been closed a long time. You can tell by the breaking up of the parking area, peeling paintwork, and boarded-up windows. I take out my phone and start taking pictures of the building, and when an old man walks over from a run-down trailer on one side of the property, I ignore him until he reaches me.
“Hi, my name's Shar. I’m looking over your garage, which looks pretty run down, but I imagine is your pride and joy. Owning a garage has always been my dream. I’m not a mechanic, but my pop was, and he died when we were saving to buy our own place. I was traveling through and saw this place and for some reason I had a pang in my chest, just like my pops was telling me to stop and look. I hope you don’t mind my pulling in and looking around?”
The old man, who is filthy and stinks of piss and oil, smiles at me and holds his hand out to shake. I grit my teeth and shake his hand, then rub my hand down the back of my thigh when he turns to look at the garage.
“Yeah, she is my pride and joy. Took me years to get her going, but to be the only garage in town and miles around gave me a decent living.”
Mr. Seaguard is 5’9”
at a guess, with gray hair going bald on top, rotten teeth, and eyes that show he’s going blind.
“Well, you did a grand job of it. Would I be able to have a look inside?”
I’m giving him my pathetic little woman act, who wants to live her father's dream, and it seems to work.
“Come on, I’ll show you what it’s like inside.”
I follow him to the front door, which I’m sure was the shop with the reception counter. The old boy talks about the old days, what he had to do to get the place up and running and how much business he had over the years. Now, if he was to be believed, the old fucker has to have spent his money on something stupid because he sure doesn’t have any money now.
Inside, I was right. There was empty shelving where he’d sold oils, filters, and the like. The reception counter would need replacing as it’s chipped, broken, and just plain rotten. Looking around, the entire room would need to be ripped out and rebuilt.
Walking behind the old man, he shows me a large kitchen with a utility area. The office has seen no one in it for years by the amount of dust and grime I can see. There is a floor safe which is worth noting and bars on the window. A closet where he has coveralls hanging and a couple of jackets. It would be ideal as a small cloakroom if the old shelving was ripped out. A toilet with a sink comes next. It’s foul, and I quickly close the door on it. The last room is empty, but it’s pretty large and would make a decent locker room or even a storage room. The back door at the end of the hallway would need replacing.
We walk back into the reception, and on the opposite side of the hallway is a door directly into the garage itself. There is a large window where anyone in the reception can see the garage and vice versa. But the garage is a shambles. Tapping my chin, I look over at Mr. Seaguard, trying to look intelligent as to the workings of a garage.
“What’s worrying you?”
He asks, and I spin to look at him.
“Well, I like the place, and I think I could give you an offer on it if you were interested in selling the place, but I’m worried that the hydraulics on the vehicle lifts won’t work. Will all the tools come with the business, or do I have to buy the building and then buy everything else, which could be a tad over what I want to pay?”
“I wasn’t thinking of selling the place, to be honest, but you seem like you want to get a business in your pop’s name, depending on what your offer would be I could consider selling to you.”
‘WHOOP, WHOOP, got you, you old bastard,’ I’m thinking to myself.
We wander back through the building and I place the lowest offer that Bank told me to lay out. “I think with all the problems and the cost to bring the place up to specifications. You know, health and safety and all that shit, I’ll give you an offer of $50,000 and not a penny more.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I can let it go for that.”
“I understand, really I do, but I can’t go higher as I’d not have enough left to cover the cost of getting the place opened. It’s going to cost a fair amount, and that’s just inside. The parking lot will need repaving too and I suppose the back of the building is needing doing as well?”
I lift an eyebrow and make him admit it does, so he knows he’s pushing his luck.
“How about I let you have the place for $75,000?”
He makes this counteroffer, which is still far below the $120,000 that Bank told me was our top offer and the offer they had given already at one time.
“Hm, I’m not sure.”
I walk around again, running my finger over things, then rubbing my fingers together, making sure he could see the grime I’ve moved. Then I bend down and look under the counter in reception, tutting, and mumbling that the counter needs replacing as it has woodworm. “I’ll give you $55,000.”
I can see he’s weakening, but he’s not with me yet. But he will be, I’ll make sure of it. Taking out my phone, I take photographs and mumble to myself about new shelving, oh, and new flooring as the tiles are rotten. I murmur to myself, that’ll add up, probably another $10,000. Hmm, I’m now giving him a worried look.
“Okay, I’ll let you have it for $55,000.”
I’m getting this locked down now. “Oh, that is fantastic. I’ll make an appointment with the lawyers to get the sale through legally, and I’ll make sure they pay you as soon as you’ve signed on the dotted line. But make sure you take your trailer with you, I don’t want that left here.”
The old fucker spits on his hand and holds it out to me, and not to be outdone, I spit on mine and slap it down hard on top of his, causing him to cringe.
I get his phone number and give him mine, keeping him happy that he’s done himself a good deal. We arrange I’ll contact him as soon as the lawyer can fit him in and get this deal to bed.
Back at the clubhouse, I jump out of my vehicle and rush inside, quickly up to my room, slamming the door behind me. Stripping off my clothes, and into the shower, before it’s even warmed fully. That place has me scratching something fierce and even though I used wipes to clean my hands, I still feel dirty.
Once I’m clean, I throw on yoga pants, a sports bra, trainers, and a loose t-shirt. I need to run for a while, and if I can find someone to run with me, then good. If not, I’ll run on my own. I’ve done most things in my life alone, so I’m used to it.
Downstairs, Trip catches me before I can leave by the front door. “What happened, Shar?”
“I’ll fill you in later, but get the lawyer ready to do a fast transfer of ownership.”
I laugh and Trip heads off. I head out to the compound and once I’m alone, I do a few stretches before setting off at a jog.
Out of the main gate and onto the road. I pace myself, looking at my watch now and again to make sure I’m making time. When I’ve run for forty minutes, I turn and make my way back, running all out for the last ten minutes. Leaning my hands on my knees, I take large gulps of air while waiting for my heart rate to drop slightly. Once it does, I do a few cool-down exercises that Meat had taught me because I get a cramp in the back of my thigh.
Done now, I walk inside and back to my room, where I have another shower and grab a pair of sweatpants and another clean t-shirt. My stomach lets off a huge growl and I know I’ve got to eat soon or I’m going to start feeling sick.
Downstairs, there is a fabulous smell coming from the kitchen and walking in, I see Bank and Trip dishing out Chinese food. Smiling, I catch them both unawares when I speak out. “Well, that smells good. I hope there is enough for me?”
“There sure is. Come and sit down. Do you want a drink?”
Bank asks and opens a bottle of red wine that actually looks like a good one, and not cheap crap.
“Oh, I’d love one. Thank you.”
Sitting with my meal and a glass of wine, I talk to them about the garage while other brothers wander in and take a plate of food. Sharp, Crack, and Brawl, who I learn is the Sgt at Arms, take a seat and listen to my description of the run-down garage.
I’m purposely omitting the offer I made and I can see all the brothers getting fidgety as they want to know if I got the garage and, if so, how much.
Sharp breaks. “Did you get the garage?”
“Yes, of course I did,”
I reply, but don’t say more, to which Sharp gives me the come-on sign with his hand. I laugh, before pitying them enough to tell them. “Okay. I got the deal. We need the lawyer to quickly get the paperwork done so I can get the money over and done. Now, it was a bit of a haggle, but he wanted $75,000.”
The brothers were not dissatisfied with that because it was much lower than the offer they had given the old man. “But I didn’t like that, so I made a counteroffer.”
Crack chuckles. “Okay, okay, what did you get the place for?”
“Well, I told him all the things wrong with the place, took a few pictures, mumbled about my pops not wanting me to buy something that wasn’t worth the money, and eventually I got the deal for $55,000.”
Nobody said a word. They all just looked at me. Crack frowned. Sharp pursed his lips, although his eyebrows had shot up. Then he turned, grabbed me out of my seat, and whirled me around and around. The brothers were all laughing and whooping and Crack grabbed me from Sharp, kissing my forehead and squeezing me tightly.
“Fucking amazing. That’s what that is, just fucking amazing. You got the old bastard to sell the place for less than half of what we offered him.”
Sharp laughs and turns to Bank. “Get the paperwork done as quick as we can, make sure the cash is ready, and let’s lock this the fuck down.”
The celebrations during the night were great. We laughed, and it was an evening without a single whore in sight because they were on lockdown in their rooms with prospects on their doors. We can’t afford Wendy to spill the beans until it’s signed, sealed, and delivered.