Chapter Twenty-One #2
Busk froze in place, his eyes darting from Cherry to something behind him. Cherry turned to see Ruger on his way towards them, his expression matching Busk’s.
“I...uh...” Busk couldn’t get a word out.
“What’s going on?” Ruger asked as he closed the distance with long strides.
“I...well...there’s this—”
“Willy is my and Junebug’s boy.”
“Oh. Well. That’s...” Cherry thought back to all the little clues he’d witnessed in the past six months. A poly relationship. “That actually makes sense. So, congrats. Five years late. Y’all all together?” He shook his head. “Ignore me, that’s not my business, but—”
“And we’ll keep it not your business,” Busk found his voice. “But I’ll tell you that Po’Boy and Wrench don’t have a lock on kinky.”
“Jesus, Busk. Thanks, Cherry. Let’s get back on track,” Ruger pointed towards the door to the back room. “I want a plan ironed out before we scatter.”
“You and me both, brother.” Cherry noticed Busk’s gaze was fixed on Ruger, who appeared to be staring back. “So I’ll just go back in. Y’all take your time.”
None of my business what they do, long as it doesn’t harm the club.
In the back room, Cherry regained his seat and looked around. Wildman had stayed in the room, so was in the lead position at the table. Cherry narrowed his eyes. “We have to hit them.”
“I know.”
“If you know, then why are you blocking us?” Cherry was overwhelmed with anger. “If you know, let us do what’s best for our chapter. I know that anything an individual chapter does can rebound back up to national, but this bullshit cannot stand.”
“I know.”
“Then what the actual fuck are we doing here? It feels like we’re arguing about pennies when the Benjamins are slipping out the door. What do you need from us to move past whatever the blockage is?”
Wildman leaned closer, then shouted, “We’re waiting on the right time.”
“You fucker,” Cherry jerked back from where he’d been leaning into Wildman. “What does Mother believe is the right time?”
“You know Myron, the Rebel Wayfarers’ lead IT guy?” Wildman caught Cherry’s gaze with his own. “I’m waiting to hear from him. He believed he had a way to make this easier. I trust Myron, he wouldn’t have asked for time if he didn’t have a good solution.”
“Jesus, Wildman. All you had to do was say that. Everyone here holds the Rebels in high regard. But you’re IMC, man, shouldn’t you have talked to our lead IT guy before handing the keys over to a different club?”
“I would have, but Pony was already on the call with Myron. They’re working on it together. That good enough for you?” Wildman lifted one eyebrow, then broke the serious moment with a grin.
“I’m just gonna sit here and wait, then.” Cherry slouched as he glared at Wildman. “Wanna run a plan through on how we deal with LaBlanc? A mind exercise.”
“Sure. Are we certain he’s playing all sides of the dice? Rookie cop, Prospect in ASMC, corrupt as hell and pulling arrests based on informant info?”
“That last has stopped now, because he doesn’t have an informant anymore.” Busk pulled out a chair and plopped down.
“Right, but he’s still a cop and a prospect in an outlaw club. Those two things shouldn’t exist.” Ruger slipped into the seat between Cherry and Busk, as if they were facing Wildman down.
“Y’all are intimidating as hell.” Wildman laughed and pointed a finger at each of them in turn. “But I am not intimidated. I’m impressed, which is different.”
The phone on the table in front of Wildman buzzed and he answered it immediately. After a moment, he switched gears and put the device on the table between them, turning on the speaker.
“Say all that again, Myron.”
“We found the link. It’s LaBlanc. He’s got a lotta money in an offshore, looks like he’s been skimming from a few places, one of them the club he’s trying to patch into. It looks like ASMC head honchos are starting to get nervous, and he’s the one they’re investigating—”
“You have all the documentation, right? You can send that here?” Cherry broke in with his question.
“Hell yeah we’ve got the docs.” That was Pony. “Shut up and listen, Cherry.”
“As ordered.” Cherry sat back in his chair.
“We’ve got two different paths we can take. One would be an anonymous tip to the cops, and let their IA folks deal with him. Odds that he’d lose his job are high. Odds that he’d pay for his bullshit, low to medium.”
“And the second route?” Wildman leaned closer to the phone. “I’m not liking the outcome of the first option.”
“We do a meet with ASMC heads. They do have a mother chapter, it’s just not billed as such. The chapter in Jacksonville is where they started.”
“Jacksonville, Texas? We need to get in touch with Blackie’s folks?”
“Nope, because that might make sense. Jacksonville, Florida. They have exactly two chapters, mother and Baton Rouge.” Myron’s voice communicated his level of disbelief. “Fucking six hundred miles between their only two groups. That’s just asking for a mess.”
“Where does this meet happen?” Cherry was already running various scenarios in his head.
“Right where you are, and in about thirty minutes. They’re already on a plane headed your way and should be landing at Metro in less than five.”
Silence descended on the men around the table, each of them showing some level of astonishment. Cherry finally broke the quiet and asked, “Say what? Say again? I don’t think I caught that.”
“Yes you did, Cherry.” Pony cut in, his voice trembling with glee. “Thirty minutes to get the hangarounds driven off, get the main room set for a meeting, and explain to the members they’ll stand around the edge and won’t interrupt. Get busy, big man. Chop, chop.”
“Jesus wept.” Cherry pushed back from the table. “Hope they’re not expecting any pleasantries because we’re going to just jump off the dock into the deep end. Are you already sending the documentation to me?”
“You and the other three men sitting with you.”
“Good job, I gotta go get shit sorted.” He paused. “Good job, Pony, Myron. Thanks for your work. Also, good to meet you, Myron. Heard a lot of good things about you. Sure you don’t want to patch over to IMC?”
“No, he does not.” A deep voice echoed over the phone’s speaker, and Wildman nearly fell out of his chair laughing. “This is Mason, and Myron is mine.”
A click indicated the call had ended and Cherry looked around the room at the men, all laughing.
“Was it something I said?” He rolled his eyes and moved to the front room.
This was where they’d meet, not in the room the chapter used for church.
He got the furniture movement lined out, and turned to the bar with a set of instructions.
Hangarounds got the eviction notice, and prospects understood they were parking lot security, nothing more.
Cherry toggled to the app the club used for communication and keyed up an all-hands message.
If they could get to the clubhouse within twenty minutes, they were to come.
If not, stay away. He didn’t want any members coming in after they were seated.
Finally, he took a minute to review the information forwarded to his phone via the secure app. Each was more damning than the previous. LaBlanc had been playing all aspects of his life off each other.
Wildman strolled up next to him. “Pretty cut and dried.”
“I want him here for it. That would be ideal. But we’ve got—” He checked his watch. “—less than twenty minutes now.”
“Lemme see what I can do.” Wildman pulled out his phone and stepped outside, already talking before the door closed. “Myron, one more thing—”
“Ruger, Busk, wanna chat a minute.” Cherry tilted his head towards the door leading to the back room. The two men followed him and Busk closed the door.
He started talking as soon as the door clicked shut.
“Here’s what I know. Atlas is their president, Loki the VP, and don’t you wonder how he got that name?
Anyway, Enforcer is also coming, and he’s Simba.
ASMC has been based out of Jacksonville for years, it’s a generational club.
One member’s kid took off and that’s where we get the Baton Rouge chapter.
That’s Apollo. His old man was a lifer, just like Atlas’ old man, and so on.
In Jacksonville, they are a white knight club, and nothing Myron or Pony can dig up says that they knew about what’s been going on here. This might be a quick meeting.”
Ruger nodded. “Or it might be a longer, more important meeting. I’ve got Twisted on speed dial, just in case there’s anything significant to discuss.”
***
“Naw, man. We’ve got nothing to discuss.
” Atlas shook his head for about the fifteenth time.
“We’re not moving dope through your territory.
My guys assured me they’re staying on the Texas side of the line for any off-book runs.
” He pointed over to where LaBlanc was seated along the wall, held in the chair by the heavy hands of two IMC members pressing down on his shoulders.
“I don’t know what to say about that one.
His probation wasn’t run past our Jacksonville guys.
I’ll have to get with the others. Or, know what?
I’d very much like to have Apollo and Dillinger here.
I understand wanting to take the trash to the top tier, but I’d like to hear what they have to say before we go any further. ”
Cherry grit his teeth until his jaw hurt.
These assholes weren’t understanding what was going on right under their nose.
They’d perked up at the four million LaBlanc had stashed offshore, but other than that they’d waved off anything the IMC officers had laid out.
He didn’t know where Wildman was finding the patience to deal, because he’d have thrown a table by now.