Chapter 27
Diablo
“Table! Fifteen minutes!” Tipo’s voice echoes across the lot.
The meeting isn’t a surprise, we’ve got to tell Diablos Rojos our answer this Saturday, giving us just under a week to work this shit out.
I haven’t mentioned anything about my visit with Frank yet, it will be easier to tell everyone together.
And even though they know I went to see my mom, I haven’t told them about Donovan either.
I’m delaying because I’m nervous, I know sticking by Donovan is the right thing to do, but the thought of losing the club…
Shit, I don’t even want to think about it.
“You doing okay, brother?” Tank asks, gathering up the tools I’m not using and putting them back into their drawers.
“Yeah, just wanna get this sorted.”
He nods. “We all do. Have you thought about how you want us to vote yet? Usually, we’d have talked about it by now.”
Pretty Boy and Slim make their way over, also waiting for my answer .
“I think we need to wait and hear what everyone says first,” I say, buying myself some time.
“Okay,” Tank nods, but he looks at me with curiosity.
I make my way towards the clubhouse, knowing they’re probably questioning each other behind my back; but they soon follow, with Walrus behind them after making sure the gate is secure.
As usual, we put our phones in a box outside; not that we really need to anymore, it’s not like we talk about illegal shit, I guess it’s just habit.
El Jefe takes his seat at the head of the table, with Tipo on his left and Walrus on his right; the rest of us take our seats on either side.
“So,” El Jefe says, “we all know why we’re here.
Diablos Rojos have said we owe them a debt for helping Frank while he’s inside.
They want us to join them as extra protection when they run drugs and guns over the border, which puts us back into the line of fire from law enforcement and takes us away from the legitimate business we’ve built. Who wants to start?”
I can sense eyes on me, but I keep mine down towards the table.
“I want to stay legit,” Walrus says, getting right to the point. “I like managing the garage and being security for a clubhouse where people aren’t trying to kill us. I want to be able to go home to my wife and kids at the end of the day.”
El Jefe nods. “That’s fair. Anyone else.”
Everyone stays quiet but they keep looking at me… fuck.
“I need to tell you all something,” I say, “I should have told you some of this stuff a long time ago.”
“Go on,” El Jefe says.
“This situation with Diablos Rojos is shitty enough, but what I’m about to tell you makes it even more complicated.
You know what an asshole Frank was to my mom, and then to me when I was old enough.
” They nod and murmur their agreement. “When he went to prison, he wasn’t going to leave my mom and Donovan alone.
He wanted Donovan to follow in our footsteps, and he wanted my mom to be miserable.
But I wanted better for them, so I made a deal with him. ”
“A deal?” Tank asks, “What kind of deal?”
“If he promised to give my mom an easy divorce and leave her alone, and if he promised to cut all ties with Donovan, then I’d fully patch into the club, follow his lead, and also back any future decisions or plays he made.”
I can sense them all looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to meet their eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment, or the anger that’s probably there.
“I’m guessing there’s more you need to tell us?” El Jefe says.
I nod. “Frank… he manipulated this whole thing. He wants the club to move away from legit business. He got Diablos Rojos on board, making them think we owe a debt… it’s all him.”
“Shit,” Tipo says, “son of a bitch!”
“I’m sorry.” I glance around at them. “I didn’t know until I went to see him, but I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I got us into this mess.”
“No,” El Jefe says, “you didn’t, you just said yourself that Frank has. You were still a kid when you made that deal; and we’re just as much to blame for that, we should have protected you and your family from Frank, but we didn’t.”
Tipo nods. “Yeah, we’re the ones who should be sorry.”
I’m in shock, this is not what I was expecting. Anger and disappointment, absolutely; but acceptance, and even an apology from them… no way.
“There was nothing you could’ve done…” I shrug. “It’s Frank. ”
“Hmm,” El Jefe says. “The question now, Diablo, is what do you want? Not what Frank wants you to do, but what do you want to do?”
“I want to stay legit and step out from Frank’s shadow. My mom and Donovan know about the deal; they want me to find a way out of it. But…” I sigh, “I’m not sure if that’s even possible.”
“Alright,” El Jefe says, “this is not an official vote yet, but do you want to stay legit, Sí? or No?”
He looks around the table.
“Sí,” Walrus says.
“Sí,” Pretty Boy and Tank say together.
“Sí,” Slim says.
I nod. “Sí.”
“Sí,” Tipo says.
“And it’s a Sí from me,” El Jefe says, “like Walrus, I enjoy going home to my wife, not worrying about who’s watching or tailing me, and I sure as hell never want another lock-down with you all again.”
Tipo chuckles, clearly remembering how El Jefe reached the end of his tether being trapped in the clubhouse for a week with us that one time.
“So how do we deal with Diablos Rojos?” Tank asks.
“And Frank,” Pretty Boy says.
El Jefe is about to say something, but Slim sits forward; he never usually talks at meetings, choosing just to listen and vote.
“I’ve got an idea.”
“Let’s hear it,” El Jefe says, leaning back in his chair.
“Diablos Rojos say we owe them for helping Frank, but we’re not the only ones loyal to him,” Slim says.
“Explain,” Tipo says .
“Diablos Rojos just need bodies for their runs; they probably don’t even care who it is.
Us owing them a debt for Frank gave them a pool of people to choose from.
But maybe it doesn’t have to be us. We’ve got ex-members out there who are still interested in illegal work, and they were in the club with Frank.
If we can prove to Diablos Rojos that they’re loyal to Frank and that they can repay his debt to them, it’s a win-win.
Diablos Rojos get the bodies they need, and we stay legit. ”
We’re all quiet, taking it in.
“Shit,” Tipo says, “that’s fucking genius.”
El Jefe nods. “And if we want to give Frank the message that the deal is off, I’m sure Diablos Rojos would be interested to know that they’ve been played. If that’s not too harsh of a message for you, Diablo?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m done. They can do whatever the fuck they want to him.”
“You really think this could work?” Tank asks.
“Surely it’s worth a shot?” Pretty Boy says.
“Is everyone on board with trying this?” El Jefe asks.
We all speak at once in agreement, “Sí.”
“Good. Tipo, Walrus, you start reaching out to ex-members, we need a list of ten people who want extra work and would be willing to help Diablos Rojos on their runs, ideally more if we can find them. If we can take them extra people, it’s more likely that Pedro and Alejandro will go for it.”
“Shit,” Tipo says, “this could really work. Great thinking, Slim.”
Slim clears his throat. “Well, it wasn’t actually me, I may have had some help.”
We all look at him, but he just nods at me. I know in that moment that he means Elizabeth, it’s her plan. Even though we aren’t together, she found a way to help me get us all out whole. I already knew I’d need to make a big gesture to earn her forgiveness, and now I know what I need to do.
“There’s something else I need to talk about,” I say, “something separate from Diablos Rojos.”
“Okay,” El Jefe says, “the table’s yours.”
“The reason that Elizabeth and I broke up… it was because I reacted badly to finding out that Donovan is gay.” I look up but none of them are reacting yet.
“That weekend after my birthday, he was going to Miguel’s house to tell him and my mom, but he wasn’t expecting Elizabeth and I to be there.
He was terrified of telling me, because he thought I’d react, well, like Frank… and I guess I did.”
“Fuck,” Pretty Boy says, “he’s gay? Now I feel bad for making all those jokes about him picking up college chicks… I had no idea.”
“Elizabeth was the only person that knew,” I say, “she kept his secret from the moment they met. And the reason I’m telling you all, is because Donovan’s my blood, and I don’t give a shit who he loves, or fucks for that matter.
I know we have a rule about members and shit, so if me having a brother who’s gay means I can’t be in the club—”
“Diablo,” El Jefe interrupts, “is that what you think of us?”
I look up and most of them are smiling at me.
“Yeah,” Tank says, “rules can, and should change. Shit, if you’d kept the same rules as when the club first started, I wouldn’t be a member.”
“Yeah,” Pretty Boy says, putting his arm around Tank’s shoulders. “And we’d be lost without you now, brother.”
“They’re right,” Slim says. “Donovan’s our boy; he’s not a member, but he’s family. Fuck the rule.”
“Absolutely,” Tipo says, “fuck the rule. ”
“Well we might as well make this shit official,” El Jefe says, “let’s put it to a vote. All those in favor of reviewing and abolishing shitty historical rules, say Sí.”
“Sí!” The word rings out unanimously around the table and I can’t stop a grin from forming.
“Then it’s agreed,” El Jefe says, hitting the gavel against the table.
Elizabeth
I’m sitting on the couch in Slim’s living room, reading over the message I got thirty minutes ago from Brian.
Sorry to hear you’re not well. I’ve found cover for your shift for the week, so we’ll see you next Monday. Listen to the doctor and make sure you rest up.
What the fuck is he talking about?
I want to respond and ask, but at the same time, I’m curious…
someone has clearly gone to some lengths to arrange for me to not be in work.
But while the thought of not working at the diner for a whole week is incredibly tempting, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous that something bad is going on.
I messaged Slim and asked him if he knows what this is about; he just told me to stay put and not to go anywhere.
Which, yeah, doesn’t help my anxiety at all, but hopefully I’m safe here at least. The sound of two bikes pulling up onto the driveway draws my attention and I go to the window to peek through the curtain.
The one bike I can see is definitely Slims and my anxiety lessens slightly knowing that he’s here .
When the front door opens, I call out, “Slim, what the fuck is going on? Has something bad happened?”
“No, nothing bad,” he says, stepping into the light of the room, and that’s when I see Angel standing behind him.
It’s only been a week since I saw him last, but the memory of his cold look as he walked by me in the clubhouse sends chills down my spine.
His face is closed off today too, I can’t make out what’s behind the darkness in his eyes.
The chill I’m feeling is countered by a warmth that also floods my body, like two waves crashing together.
I catch the scent of his leather cut, take in the shape of his body, the way his hands hang loosely by his side…
The energy he gives off is palpable, making it hard for me to breathe.
“Elizabeth,” Angel says.
The syllables of my name rolling from his lips sends more warmth through my body, something catches in my throat. I can’t do this… I can’t be in the same room as him… it’s too much.
“I… uh… I have to get to work,” I say.
They’re blocking the doorway to the stairs, so I have no choice but to try and squeeze by them. They both move to the side, but as I reach the stairs, Angel says, “You’ve got the week off, I arranged it with Brian.”
Anger builds in my stomach. We’re not even together and he’s fucking up my job, calling my supervisor behind my back, losing me money…
“You don’t have the right to involve yourself in my life anymore,” I say, “and you’ve just lost me nearly four hundred dollars.”
“I’ll pay you back,” he says, still no expression on his face.
I scoff. “That’s not the point.” I cross my arms and glare at him. “Why?”
“Why did I arrange for you to have the time off? ”
“Obviously,” I say, letting myself be as sarcastic and rude as I’m feeling right now.
“Because we need to talk.”
“Well that’s very presumptuous of you, thinking I’d want to waste a week talking to you.”
“Guys,” Slim says, “why don’t we start with the good news?”
“What news?” I ask, hating that I’m curious.
“Come on,” Slim says, moving into the living room and gesturing to the sofa before going to get us beers.
I make my way towards the chair that’s separate, not wanting to be anywhere near Angel right now. Mainly because I’m furious, but also because his scent is overpowering me and just being near him makes me want to throw myself at him. No… stay strong.
“The club agreed to try your plan,” Angel says, “with Diablos Rojos.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, narrowing my eyes at Slim, who I’d told to take ownership of the plan.
Angel chuckles, and Slim just shrugs.
I roll my eyes. “Fine, so I gave Slim some ideas. I’m glad the club is going to try it, and I really hope it all works out for you—are we done?”
“No,” Angel shakes his head, “we’re not done yet, princess.”
Heat flashes in his eyes and I feel it down to my core. Fuck, I’ve had dreams where he calls me princess, and I’ve woken every morning feeling so fucking horny it’s embarrassing.
“So?” I ask, gesturing for them to continue.
“We also took another vote tonight,” Slim says, “and it was unanimous. We’re going to abolish any shitty rules the club still has from when Frank was El Jefe. ”
My heart lifts. “Slim, I thought you said you were going to wait until this business with Diablos Rojos was over before taking it to the club?”
Slim shakes his head. “It wasn’t me.”
He turns to look at Angel, who is completely focused on me. Instead of his cold closed-off look, his eyes are raw with emotion; they’re pleading with me, begging me, telling me he’s sorry, that he loves me… I want to talk but can’t seem to form words, so I just stare back at him.
“And on that note,” Slim says, “I’m gonna go and stay at the clubhouse tonight, it’s time for you guys to figure your shit out.”