Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
The meeting room wasn’t built for comfort.
Just rows of dented, mismatched folding chairs lined up in tight, uneven rows facing a long, battered table at the front.
No fancy décor. No padding on the seats.
No distractions. The walls were bare except for the club colors.
Overhead, the Edison lights buzzed, throwing a warm, amber light across the room.
The officers sat at the table—Gypsy stood front and center, Cruise to his right. Their cuts were stretched tight across their backs; colors bold under the lighting.
The rest of the club filed in, heavy boots striking the floor with muted thuds. Conversations were short, voices low. Most of the brothers grabbed a chair without bothering to unfold it properly, shoving it with a boot to make room for themselves.
Once the last man settled, Tabor shut the door with a heavy bang that echoed off the walls. Locking it was a formality—everyone here was supposed to be here. But habits like that kept them alive.
Gypsy didn’t move. He just leaned against the table; hands planted on the table and let his gaze sweep over the room. A single look that said pay attention.
He spoke, his voice low but carrying to every corner. “Doc call it.”
“Church is in session,” Doc said as he flipped open the church ledger.
A few boots shifted on the floor. A cough broke the silence. Then it was straight to business—no bullshit, no wasted words.
Old business first. Loose ends to tie off, debts to call in, trouble to head off before it got too big to stomp out.
New business next. Deals, alliances, betrayals—the kind of talk that tightened jaws and sharpened eyes. Votes were called, hands raised, verdicts made. Not everyone agreed, but once a vote was cast, that was the end of it. Brotherhood meant unity, even when it was uncomfortable.
Sometimes the tension got thick—real thick. You could almost hear the sound of tempers grinding against the thin line of respect that held it all together. But nobody stood up unless they were invited to. Nobody spoke out of turn unless they had the balls to back it up.
The meeting moved quickly. No one wanted to sit longer than they had to on those hard-ass chairs.
“Now that everything else has been handled, it’s time for one last piece of business.”
He heard the mumbling and the feet shuffling. They knew it was coming just not how it would be handled.
“Earlier in the week, we had an issue.” He stared at Tool then scanned the room to find Killer.
“I try not to get into your personal life unless it can’t be avoided.” His words were thin. “Tool, you’re being fined for disrespecting your brother. If it happens again, I’ll center punch you.”
When everyone remained silent, Gypsy gave a sharp nod.
“That’s it. Doc.”
“Church’s adjourned,” Doc called it, bringing the meeting to an end.
Chairs scraped against the floor as the club stood. A few lingered, talking quietly in clusters. Others filtered out fast, lighting cigarettes before they even hit the main room.
Gypsy and Cruise remained by the table. “I’m not sure those two will come around,” Gypsy told his veep.
“Give them time.” Cruise shrugged. It wasn’t that long ago Romeo and Wrench went after one another with blades. Hell, Romeo had shot Wrench. Yes, it had been an accident, but still it had happened. And that was over a female.
Church was done—but the night wasn’t.