CHAPTER 20
Sharp
I don’t normally eat breakfast, just grab a coffee and go straight to my office, but today I’m curious to see how Josie and Lira get along. I know Lira took some shit from Wendy and Lizzie, but I’m not sure how far Josie went along with it. I don’t believe she is quite the innocent she would have us believe, but if the leopard has changed its spots, I’ll go along with it.
“Take a seat, Pres, I’ll be with you in a second.”
Taking a seat, I wait to see what’s coming.
Josie walks up with a plate of bacon sandwiches and a steaming cup of coffee. “There you go, Pres. Just like the old days, only cleaner. I mean the hygiene standards, not the server.”
Thanking her, I don’t get involved in any other pleasantries. The jury is still out in my court, and only time will tell if this was a good move.
I’m just finishing the last of my bacon sandwiches, which were damn good, I have to say, when Psycho and Porky walk in. They have to get their own coffee and sandwiches, I notice, then Psycho looks over and I gesture for them to join me.
“Morning, Pres,”
they say in tandem as they take their seats. “There seems to be something different going on here these days. The kitchen looks like something from a fancy restaurant, not the scruffy soup kitchen it was a few weeks ago.”
Porky gives a chin lift as he says this to show his approval, I’m sure.
“Like I was saying in the last church you guys attended, I want better things for the club these days. We all deserve better than what we had. As soon as you're done eating, grab Croc and then come see me in the office, and we’ll go look over the junkyard together. I want to get that onboard as a club business as soon as possible, if we can agree on a way forward for it.”
“We won’t be long getting through this chow. It’s better than they serve at the diner, Pres, and that is worth the ride.”
It looks like the brief road trip and a couple of days chilling at the clubhouse, have blown away some of Psycho’s cobwebs. He isn’t usually so forthcoming with praise, I think to myself.
An hour later and we’re outside the junkyard. It doesn’t have a business sign up anymore, just the space against the outer wall where it used to be. Walking through the main gates, which don’t look as though they’ve been closed fully in some time, the place is a shithole. Even for a junkyard, it is a dump.
How anyone can find anything, let alone walk around safely, God only knows. You take your life in your hands just to get to the office. Well, I say office, but it’s actually the back of some old semi-trailer by the look of it. It has had a double door cut into the side of it in its early days and probably looked quite decent back then. Like everything else we can see at first glance, it’s been left to go downhill. The frame moves as we open the door and try to enter.
“Don’t try to slam it shut. It don’t shut proper no more.”
A man looks up from behind a desk, shrouded in cigarette smoke. “We haven’t got anything here to interest folks like you, either.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
His attitude has already got my attention, and it's the kind of attention he doesn’t want.
“I mean, we don’t do bikes. None of that two-wheeled death-dealing machine stuff in this yard. Had me a bike once. Rode it twice and damn near got killed by some dumb ass in a pickup, both times. Put it in the barn and it's been there ever since. Start it up a couple of times each year and it fires up every time. ‘Course I never ride it. Just roll it out in the sunshine, give it a quick wash, and roll it back. Surprised the damn thing hasn’t rusted away to nothing.”
“We’re not here for a few spare parts. We might be interested in the complete business, though. Who do I need to speak to about taking the business over?”
I watch him closely and see the dollar signs spring up in his eyes.
“I own the business. Inherited it from my pa when he passed some years back. Name’s Richard S. Everard. Same as it says on the board outside, ‘Everard Parts.’ Gives me a good living, too.”
He’s so full of bull that I can almost hear it bellow. He doesn’t seem to realize that there is no board outside any longer. That speaks volumes.
“Mind if we take a look around, then?”
He’s out of his chair in a second and offering his hand.
“I’ll take you round myself. Give you the grand tour.”
Shaking his hand is like waving a dead fish in the air. Cold, slimy, and limp. I won’t be doing that again.
Following Richard S. Everard out of the ‘office’, I give Psycho a nod of the head to one side and he immediately gets the hint. As soon as we’re outside, he slips away to do his own evaluation of the junkyard.
Following Richard around, I can almost feel all the places that he is not showing us. There’s nowhere for waste oil. He doesn’t have tire or battery storage areas. He doesn’t break down the high-end vehicles so he can sell the expensive parts directly off the shelf. I’ve rarely been in a junkyard myself, but even I can see the failings in this setup. It could be so much more than it currently is. I want this business for the club, I know that much. This could be a gold mine.
Back at the office, after a whirlwind ‘grand tour,’ I see Psycho waiting for us. I don’t think our host even knew he was missing. We talk finances for a few minutes, and he’s giving me some ridiculous numbers, both for his profits and for an asking price for the business. I soon lose interest in what he has to say and we start to leave.
“If you need to have another look around, or have any other questions, I’m here Monday through Friday, nine am to five pm. Don’t hesitate.”
Smiling what I suppose is his best smile, then holding his hand out, I turn and walk quickly away.
Back at the clubhouse, I take Psycho, Porky, and Croc to my office for further discussions. I want to know what Psycho did or didn’t find. I’ll be calling church first thing in the morning, so I need some decisions made before that, such as are we going forward with it or dropping the idea?
Croc is very animated and obviously likes the idea, as all he can do is focus on what we should do to improve it. He hasn’t heard a negative that he can’t offer a solution for. For instance, when living accommodation is mentioned, he was straight in.
“We should have a three-bedroom trailer put in there to start with. Us three can share that while we get the place organized and tidied up. Once the place is properly organized, we can have a decent sized warehouse built to stock parts for sale off the shelf. If we go down that direction we can open up the premises, and then decide on where we live after that. I don’t personally see any of us wanting to build on that land and live there. No Ol’ Lady is going to want to live in a junkyard and have kids there.”
“We could certainly build a better office near the entrance to make it look more professional. That old ‘cabin’ they have now won’t do for us. That is a fact,”
Porky states with conviction.
“You’re very quiet, Psycho. Let’s hear what you think.”
I sit back and wait for him to drop the bombshell I’m sure is coming to derail the idea.
“I’m sure it can be done and made into a damn good earner. I just don’t think the timescale is what you’ll want, Pres. Cleaning up the immediate crap is a going to be a couple of weeks. Organizing and inventory, probably a month after that. I don’t see that there will be a trustworthy stock list from that ass we met today. There is no organization to the stock that I could see. They take a car in, stack it up, that’s it. They are not even stored by make. It’s a shitshow in there. They have no waste oil storage or recycling area. I think you should approach the mayor and let him know that they are dumping oil into the sewers. Maybe he can use that to force Everard to sell cheap rather than face prosecution?”
Raising his eyebrows at me, I see that he may have something there. “Once we’re past that, then we’ll know where we can put a trailer, for starters, and get the place open for business. I definitely think we need to have a space for breaking bikes, too.”
Psycho leans back to signify he’s put his two cents’ worth in.
“You’re talking two months, best-case scenario. That’s more than I was hoping for, I have to say. I don’t like having to wait that long to get the cash coming in, if I’m honest.”
“But look at it in real world perspective, Pres,”
Croc states. “We wouldn’t be having that cash coming in anyway. We’re not talking about a massive outlay of cash during those two months. The three of us can do everything for bed and board. Oil recycling, we just need a ton of empty fifty-five-gallon drums to start with. We can use the yard crane to reorganize the stock, so we might have a fuel outlay. I’ll bet some of the stuff in the yard has passed its usefulness, so we can sell it on as scrap. We can sleep at the club until we clear the space for a used trailer.”
“Okay, I’m sold. I’ll talk to Bank and Pen, see what they can do with the price. I’ll definitely speak to Grant, too. I think he’ll jump at the chance to get rid of Richard S. Everard from the edge of town.”
Sunday morning and I’m waiting for the last of the brothers to file in from their breakfast. I have noticed that since Lira took over the kitchen, they all seem much calmer and more relaxed. I guess a full stomach does that to a guy. I’ve noticed that more and more of the brothers are hanging around the clubhouse at meal times.
“Right, settle down. I want to get through this fast this morning, so pay attention. First of all, you should all know by now that Josie is off limits as far as sex is concerned. She is no longer a club whore, so do not go there. If she comes to one of you, I want you to politely decline and then tell me right away. This is not a game. She wanted the chance to go clean, and I have given her that chance. I do not want someone touching any of your dicks and then making my food. Am I perfectly clear on this? I will take it as a personal insult if I find any of you have been there after today.”
“Pres, are we going to get rid of the whores, full stop?”
Gunner asks from where he is leaning on the wall.
“I think that could be on the cards for the future unless someone wants to raise it now?”
I look around the table, and I think I already know those that would ‘aye’, and those that would ‘nay.’ No one offers it up, so I move on.
“Still with the subject of food, I want the diner given a lick of paint. I’ll give you all a date when I’ve spoken to the staff there and we will all descend on that day and get it done. We will also have our evening meal there that day to show our support. I want everyone to eat there at least twice a month, too. It’s our business and we are being criticized for not showing our faces. I’m as guilty as the rest of you, so I’ll be riding out there more often and asking questions of the staff if they have been seeing you all. Bank and Pen, any issues with the established businesses?”
Bank gives us a positive all-round report, and then looks at me for the go ahead to get into the salon and junkyard finances. Giving him the nod, he gets to it.
“We have the salon purchased and Zara has been through the place and cleaned it from top to bottom.”
Gunner looks like the cat that got the cream, he is so proud of his daughter.
“My girl has already appointed the first stylist. She approached Zara while she was cleaning and offered to help. She has a job in the other salon but has been thinking of how she could get out of there for a while because of the atmosphere. I’m expecting some form of trouble coming from that. If we had a girl-gang like the Raging Barons, hell, I’d let them deal with it.”
That has us all grinning and grimacing. We all know of their reputations for getting into mischief, or just supporting their men! “Zara has the name of someone that she thinks could be good as the manager, but wants to bring her in for an interview. If it’s okay with you, Pres, she’d like to do it here. Letting it be known from day one that the MC is behind the business could prevent some of the aforementioned trouble from arising.”
Gunner looks questioningly at me.
“I have no issues with Zara doing that. She’s a club princess, after all,”
I respond.
“Purchase of the junkyard. Once Pres has spoken to the mayor, I think we’ll get it below its market value, and so we should, from what Psycho tells me,”
Bank continues. “Psycho, Porky and Croc have volunteered their efforts to get the place up to speed for opening day, but I’m throwing any spare time I have into the pot to help them. They think it’s going to take the three of them two months to be ready to open a business fit to carry the club's logo. If anyone else can spare them some assistance, we should be able to knock that down by a good few days, at least.”
I’m pleased but not surprised when everyone puts in their offers of help for the guys. Maybe I won’t have to wait so long for some cash to come in, I think to myself. Croc was right, though. Apart from the purchase price and maybe a few incidentals, we won’t have much outlay.
“Last on today’s agenda is the hardware and tech store. Shelling out cash to stock up the tech store shouldn’t be an issue, as we expect that stock to turn around fairly fast. Our biggest decision is what level do we stock the hardware store for opening day? Too little and if customers can’t get what they want or need, they won’t come again. Too much and we could be carrying thousands of dollars for months with no return.”
“Why don’t we just go around the town and ask the potential customers what they are more likely to buy? If we spend a Saturday wandering the main shopping areas, we’d probably catch more than half the town in one swoop,”
Gunner just throws it out there as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. Damn, he’s got something there.
“Gunner, when did you suddenly become this super-dad and entrepreneur that sits before us?”
Brawl looks at him with his head tilted first on one side then the other, like a German Shepherd puppy!
“Fuck off, Brawl. You just never saw me for the hero I am, is all.”
Church erupts in laughter, and I think that’s a good place to call it a day. Slamming down the gavel, I kick them out and head for the kitchen to see what delights await for lunch.