Chapter Seventeen #3
Warner stared at Cherry for long enough it was uncomfortable. “I saw you, you know? I’d have never said a word, not to you, not to anyone. You dancing with that lawyer, the one working on my arrest, was hella hot.”
And now it was Cherry’s face that was hot, thinking about that first night he’d met Denis.
I should take him out, wine and dine him.
He’s worth keeping outing myself for. “Well, that was the first and only time I hit up that club. I appreciate you holding my confidence, even, maybe especially because I didn’t know you were. ”
“I’m thinking we need to take this elsewhere, or we need to clonk LaBlanc again.”
“I don’t have my ride. I drove out tonight.” Warner hung his head again. “Not something a real biker would do, I know.”
“Fuck real, if it’s cold I drive my four-wheeler.”
“Same here. The grocery getter gets a lotta winter use.” Cherry laughed and turned around, watching LaBlanc trying to wrangle being enough upright to take a sitting position.
He stepped closer and swept his foot under the propping arm, dropping LaBlanc back to the ground with a thud.
“He’s out again, but I’m with Prez. We need to vacate.
Marcus, we’ll have you follow us, if you can drive? ”
“He only got one hit in before you guys stopped him.” Warner pushed to his feet. “I’m in your debt no matter what.”
“Tell Denis that I was the good guy, payment enough.” Cherry grinned. “Let’s roll.”
Which brought him to this first round of training with the men wanting to wear an IMC patch.
“How many of you prefer to talk your way out of a fight?”
Five men lifted a hand, glancing around the half-circle.
“Okay.” He pointed to each man who hadn’t taken the easy answer, “You, you, and you, don’t let the door hit’cha where the good Lord split’cha.” He made a shooing motion. “Go on, git. This isn’t for you.”
One of the men reared up, pushing his chest out as his cheeks got tomato-red. “You can’t cut me. This is my third chance.”
“Which means it is your last chance. You didn’t even make it to the Enforcer talk the other two times. If you want to petition for additional time, talk to Twisted.” He watched the blood drain from the man’s face. “I’m sure he’d be happy to hear why you got booted.”
“Least Twisted has some balls. Talk my way out of a fight? Who the hell does that?”
“Me, most of the time. I only use force when it’s the only option.
” He pointed at the other two men. “Might as well hear this bit of wisdom, stay a minute.” Turning back to the belligerent man, he shook his head.
“Talking instead of fighting should always be the first phase. Actually, if you’re in a club and someone disrespects you, or you feel disrespected, the best thing is to just step away.
If you’re patched into an MC and you don’t step away, and you’re wearing your colors?
You just pulled your club into a fight they didn’t ask for. ”
“But if someone disses me, they gotta pay.” This was from the second of the men who would be dismissed.
“Pay what? What do you gain if you match fist to fist with them? Winner isn’t the better man, just the strongest physically.
Let’s say you do go to the mat with someone, and you knock them out instead of walking away.
Let’s say the cops are called and you get pinched?
You think that’s going to look good with IMC on your back?
Fuck no, asshole. Now you’ve got to deal with me, in addition to dealing with the cops.
See, I’m the one that gets the call when there’s trouble with a member that shouldn’t involve the chapter or the club.
I get to sort out the headache, and then I make a recommendation to Prez.
Know what those recommendation options are? ”
He looked around and saw just one man with a knowing expression. “Warner, do you know?”
“Keep or cut. Those are the only two options. If you keep someone, they’ll likely have to pay fines up to and in excess of whatever outlay the club had to pay on their behalf.
If you cut someone, they’re just gone. No arguing, no reconciliation.
They are out.” He grinned for a moment then the expression fell away.
“My old man was in a club. Not IMC, his club doesn’t exist anymore. ”
“Who did he ride for?” This came from one of the five who’d be staying, and Cherry liked the way they were all leaning into the exchange.
“Common Enemy MC. He’s Gord. Was Gord.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I heard he got sick.” Cherry shook his head. “Good man, Gord. Ride in paradise. I should have made the connection.”
Warner nodded. “Thanks, man. So yeah, when I told him I wanted to join, he told me to keep him out of it. It was something I had to earn on my own dime. But he wasn’t shy with his knowledge. Right up to the end, he’d call me and school me on one aspect or another of the charter.”
“Wish others had the same wisdom to listen.” Cherry waved a hand.
“You three are out of here. Go on, now.” He stared from one man to the next.
“I think I said, go on, now. As in get the fuck off club property and don’t bother any members you see on the outside.
Zebra is off limits to you now, too. You failed, and you reap the harvest.”
After he’d run the rejects off, Cherry settled into his role as teacher, explaining the whys and hows of the club’s expectations and rules.
Running this kind of training was Pony’s idea, way back when, and IMC ensured each chapter adhered to the plan.
Watching as Warner rolled through question after question, he wondered if Denis could do the same.
But he isn’t wanting to be a member. He is just in the bed of one.
Even old ladies of members had to adhere to a code.
Maybe I should find out what that is? Since he’s a complete outsider, he’s going to have questions I can’t answer. Maybe I should talk to some of the old ladies. Shit, he might not want to be part. He still hasn’t ridden on the bike with—
“Cherry? Enforcer? Are we done for the day?”
Cherry zoned back in and realized all five men were on their feet. “Yeah, we can be done for today. Warner, hang back a minute.”
The kid hooked a toe around a chair and pulled it in front of Cherry. He waited for the other men to exit the room they were in before he sat. “Yes, Enforcer?”
“Okay, that’s the right attitude.” Cherry laughed. “The other day, you said you’d seen me at the club downtown.”
“And I never said a word. I couldn’t, not without telling on myself.
Besides, every man needs to set their own course.
Daddy said a few members had chapped asses about Po’Boy and his throuple, but since his patching over to the CoBos not only didn’t hurt our club, but the connection also enhanced it, he didn’t have a single bad thing to say about them. His counsel was ‘Live and let live’.”
“Good motto.”
“So you wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to say anything? Is that what this is?”
“No, asshole. This is me wanting to get to know you better. Gord didn’t bring family around often enough. I remember a kid, must be your younger brother, but I don’t remember you.” Cherry blew a soft raspberry. “I hate that, but I was still in the military when you would have been coming up.”
“You know everyone’s family?”
“Pretty much, yeah. I wasn’t kidding when I called the club ‘found family.’ Our bonds are much closer than blood.
I trust my brothers like I trusted my men.
I believe down to the soles of my boots that every man in the club will have my back.
No matter what.” He flexed one fist. “As Enforcer, my role is to protect and police, both within the club and environs closely managed by the club.”
“Do you like the position?”
“Oh, hell yeah. It’s a great fit. There’s no bigger high than finding a problem and solving it to the benefit to the club.”
Marcus pulled in a breath. “Have you guys heard from LaBlanc? My family?”
“Yeah, Ruger went out and talked to your mother. He also threw out that useless squatter LaBlanc from the house. It’s your mom and brother there now, and we’re keeping an eye on things.
Scuttlebutt is that LaBlanc is trying hard to keep his numbers up, but without your information, he’s failing pretty spectacularly.
And before you ask, we’ve dealt with Caine on your behalf.
He’s out of the picture entirely. I wanna say he’s headed to Guatemala, in a hull without a window. ”
“You took him out?”
“Not dead, although that might come back to bite me in the ass. No, we just sent him on a long siesta, on a slow boat. He had been junking up our town too long as it was. We’ve been focused on our own shit, and hadn’t caught the bullshit he was bringing in.”
“What will fill the vacuum? Isn’t that the saying?”
“We’ll be watching out for someone trying to slide in. I’m thinking of making that your first assignment.”
“Y’all are patching me, then? This wasn’t just for show?”
Cherry rolled his neck, groaning when it popped two or three times. “God, that feels good.” Looking at Marcus, he shook his head. “Patch is yours if you want it. We wouldn’t make you do shit. But if you want it, if you want to take this life on, we’ll have you. Gladly.”
“Cherry.” A shout from the main room had them both running for the door.
“The fuck is the fire,” he asked as he cleared the opening. Two men wrangled a third towards the door leading to the far back room of the clubhouse. He wasn’t moving, his form sagging between the men as the toes of his boots dragged across the floor. “Who?”
“ASMC on the vest on his goddamned motherfucking back.” Busk held up the confiscated colors of their biggest regional rival. “Name’s Racer, which don’t mean shit to me. From the colored threads on the vest, it’s had a few nameplates.”
“Unknown to me. Where’d you pick him up?”