Chapter 4
NICK
Later that day, Joker, the VP of the Serpents MC, saunters into my office.
“What are you doin’ here in the middle of the day?” I meet him halfway across the room, and we bump fists. “I thought badass bikers only came out at night.”
“Very fuckin’ funny.” He narrows his eyes. “I’m picking up the stuff for the club’s annual toy drive.”
“Right, right. I’ve been slammed with almost back-to-back parties this week and getting ready for the ones next week.”
“Yeah, busy time of the year, for sure,” Joker agrees.
Samson enters the office, and he and Joker do the man-back-slap thing. “You here for the toys?”
“At least you remembered,” Joker teases.
Samson waves his hand at me. “If it was up to this fucker, Christmas would be cancelled. He makes Scrooge look like a philanthropist.”
I roll my eyes. “Where the fuck did you learn that six-dollar word?”
“From you,” Samson deadpans.
“Don’t listen to him,” I say.
“Even wants me to work on Christmas Eve and Christmas,” Samson adds.
“Shit, you really are like Scrooge,” Joker agrees around a laugh.
“You won’t be laughing when you see the money we haul in on both those nights. Un-fuckin-believable.”
“Don’t you know you’re supposed to be home with your family on those days?” Joker says.
“Tell that to the bank.”
“Fuck the bank.” Joker laughs around his words.
I fling my hand at Joker. “Before you hooked up with Daisy and started pumping out kids, you spent both days sitting your ass at the bar in the Gold Mine.”
“Different times, brother, different times.”
“I got the toys all packed up for you in the garage downstairs,” Samson says, then jerks his thumb at me. “You don’t have any problems with giving kids toys at Christmas, do you?"
“Fuck you,” I call after them. “I care about the kids.”
They’re still making jokes on their way out of my office, but I ignore them.
Every year, we join the Serpents in a toy drive for needy kids. It’s good publicity for the club and is the fuckin’ right thing to do. I clearly remember the Christmases I went without ‘cause my deadbeat father drank away the money for presents.
Joker turns when he gets to the door. “Stop by the clubhouse later tonight, and we’ll have a drink for the holidays.”
“I got Portia’s holiday concert, and before that, we got a meeting with Graham Pierce.”
Samson and Joker exchange a look.
“Cobra talked to him about Ecstasy, right?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Joker shrugs. “I don’t think Cobra was that impressed, plus what he offered was stupid expensive.”
Samson gives me the eye. “Just what I said.”
“Jax did a deep dive into his portfolio,” I add. “Said he knows what he’s doing. Plus, I heard some good things about him.”
“I don’t think Cobra wants to take Ecstasy any place outta Vegas,” Joker says. “Makes it harder to filter our money if too many outsiders are involved, but you guys got a completely different setup here.”
“I get what you’re saying.” I flip a look to Samson. “We need the growth if we’re gonna stay hot and move forward.”
“Yeah, totally different situation,” Joker agrees. “I gotta get going. Daisy’s got me goin’ crazy with all this Christmas shit.”
“Must be an epidemic. Cheryl’s off the rails too.”
Joker laughs. “After all the bullshit we went through on Halloween, I just wanna enjoy a nice quiet day with my family.”
“How’s that latest addition of yours?” I ask Joker.
Joker pulls out his phone, swipes at the screen, and shows us pictures of Dakota, his two-month-old baby girl. She came into the world as an enemy from a rival club held Daisy captive. Crazy times, but thankfully it all worked out.
“Shit,” Samson laughs. “Can’t deny her; she looks just like you.”
“I know. Daisy’s pissed. She said she did all the work, and both Deana and Dakota look just like me, but they’ve got their mother’s attitude, that’s for sure.”
I slap Joker on the back. “Happy for you, man.”
The hard-ass biker is also a proud papa.
“Don’t forget.” Joker points to Samson and me. “Stop by the Gold Mine for a holiday shot of Jack before Christmas.”
“Absolutely.” We all tap fists, then Joker and Samson leave for the garage.
Ten minutes later, one of the bouncers ushers in Graham Pierce.
He enters the office with the confidence of someone used to getting what he wants. At six feet tall, his slim build and golfer’s tan scream entitlement. His perfectly clipped hair says he cares about his appearance, maybe too much, and his sharp blue eyes examine the office at a glance.
I greet him with a handshake, then motion to the sitting area against the opposite wall. Pierce sits in the chair, and I settle on the couch. A few minutes later, Samson returns and lowers his big body into the other chair.
“I’m glad we were able to make this happen since I missed you earlier today,” Graham says.
Nope, I wasn’t gonna apologize.
“I can show you the space before we start so you can get an idea of what we’re working with.”
“Not necessary. I’ve read the proposal you sent me.
Very thorough and informative. Any other questions, I answered by asking around.
” Graham shifts in the seat. “You have a very impressive operation here. What makes your success unique is you’re not connected with Tao, RCI, or any of the other mega entertainment corporations. ”
“We owned a few clubs in Brooklyn, which gave us a good foundation for what works and what doesn’t.”
“Ahhhh, Brooklyn. And I guess that leads me to my first question. How does an Italian kid from the streets of New York get here?” Graham spreads his arms wide in a dramatic gesture.
“That’s half Italian, half Cuban,” I correct him, daring the arrogant asshole to make a racist comment.
Samson leans in. “Like Nick said, hard work.” I didn’t miss the hard edge in his voice.
Graham acknowledges Samson for the first time. “Yes, well, your story is just as intriguing. Absentee father, mother OD’ing on heroin. I’m guessing higher education wasn’t on either of your to-do lists.”
Samson’s fists clench, and I shoot him a side-eye. If Graham wanted to push buttons, let him; I wasn’t reacting. Anyway, what he said is true. Samson and I came from nothing, which made our success that much sweeter—and something to admire.
“I’ve done my homework, gentlemen.” Graham steeples his fingers. “But what I really want to know is what’s your secret to success?”
The question hangs between us because I want to get the wording exactly right. What Samson and I have accomplished has mostly come from intuition and gut feelings.
“Maybe it’s our background that fuels our success.” I wave my hand at Samson. “People look at us, and they see themselves. They see someone relatable. Someone they can connect to who understands what they want.”
I motion to Graham. “They look at you and see you at face value. Privileged rich boy, rich daddy, Ivy League school, impressive address.” I cock my head. “I did my homework too.”
“So, you feel your struggles made you strive for something better.”
“When you live the way we did, you have two ways to go. Most of the guys I came up with are either dead or doin’ time.
Some guys get beat down by the pressure of a hard life.
Drugs, booze. They don’t wanna change or can’t change, but then there’s guys like me and Samson.
The bad shit made us stronger, made us want a better life.
And when you combine the life lessons we learned early on with that kind of drive, we’re unbeatable, ‘cause we got nothing to lose. The only way to go is up. We’ve already seen the shit side of life and got through it, so how are you gonna scare us? ”
“Very interesting concept.” Graham pauses. “Although now you both have families and, I assume, people you care about.”
What the fuck is this guy saying?
“Doesn’t change our business attitude,” Samson offers.
“Unless what you do in business somehow puts your family in jeopardy.”
“That would never happen.” I lock eyes with Graham to make my point.
“That would be the hope, but as I’m sure you know, the nightclub business is known to have some unsavory characters lurking with their hands out.”
“Are you one of them?” Samson challenges.
Graham laughs lightly. “I’m just pointing out any establishment generating this amount of cash has enemies.”
“True.” I couldn’t deny his words.
“Before I enter into any business association with either of you, I have a few questions.”
“Ask away.” I keep my expression neutral, but my blood is racing through my veins at a dangerous rate.
“If we agree on the logistics of this deal, one of the locations I would like to launch Club Wicked is Miami.” He pauses, then adds, “I understand you had an unfortunate situation with someone you partnered with in South Beach, a Carlos Vega?”
“Just a misunderstanding.” Huge fuckin’ understatement. Carlos tried to take me out.
“A misunderstanding? If my intel is correct, he tried to gun you down in your own condo in South Beach.”
“He was under a lot of pressure from an outside force, and it didn’t go as he planned.” I shrug. “Obviously, I’m still here.”
“Outside force. Interesting.” Graham rests his palm on his knees. “That brings me to my next subject. I would need to know your ties with the Brooklyn mob are defunct.”
“Brooklyn was a long time ago,” I assure him.
“Maybe.” Graham locks eyes with me. “But isn’t Cheryl Benson the daughter of Frank Barnett, alleged mob boss, also romantically connected to you?”
My heart races, then slows. “She has nothing to do with Club Wicked.”
Fuck, how did he make the connection when our last names are different?
“Really? It was my understanding she runs a very high-end escort agency servicing this club.”
He really did do his homework.
“Selective Services is employed by many clubs in Vegas and California.” An answer without an answer.
“Yes, I’ve seen her website. Very impressive. She’s a very beautiful woman.”