Chapter 35
FINGER
Taking my seat at the table, I listen as Pres starts church. It’s going to be a long one I think, but when we are here, we are doing nothing else. That’s my take on it anyway.
“As you all know, we’ve gotten rid of the drug runners in town.
Ears on the street have heard nothing about a replacement supplier or seller.
It seems some of the kids are showing signs of using and parents have them in hand.
” Pres smirks, and it can only mean he’s seen or heard something about the–in hand–he’s speaking of.
“Byron wasn’t working with anyone else that we have found.
He is gone, and so is the supply he was providing.
Maddog, we took some of his men out. It left a message not to fuck with our town or us.
Even if one of his men picks up where Maddog left off, I can’t see them coming here again. ”
“Why don’t we pay someone to watch the streets to see if any of Maddog’s men picks up the mantle?” I suggest.
“Good idea,” Cap responds while nodding in agreement. “Do we have a contact in Bayswater Town?”
Ghost taps the table with his knuckles, gaining everyone’s attention. “I know someone, and a few extra dollars would be welcome.”
Pres grunts, “Okay, arrange it, Ghost. Coin, make sure you have the setup for paying the person.”
“Will do, Pres. I’ll organize it with you later, Ghost.” Coin looks over as Ghost gives him a nod.
“Next topic I want to cover is the gas station. You all know what we are considering. It’s a new business venture as well as a new base for the recovery business.
Bull needs out of the current property because the landlord is trying to pull a fast one by increasing the rent by a hundred percent.
” Pres states the last with gritted teeth, and we all feel that anger for the asshole who we have supported in the past. “Coin can put an offer on the gas station. We can use some of the money Georgie gave, and once it’s into profit, we can return it to the account. ”
“Good idea, Pres. It’s a fuckin’ good safety net in case anything comes up, like it has with the tattoo studio and now the gas station,” Phoenix comments, and we all know he’s one of the most logical of us all, so has thought about this thoroughly.
“I’m for the gas station thing, Pres. We would have to find someone to run the place, though. ”
Brothers are nodding, grunting, and throwing out comments, but we all know there are not enough of us to manage the gas station.
Bull surprises everyone when he speaks. “How about the new crew that are working for Jeremy? They are solid, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, I reckon they are, but we need to get to know them. Find out how reliable they are. They’d have to be full brothers, so it’s a little early to consider them for running a business,” Pres leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“What if we bring Robert in as a full brother? It’s nearly his time anyway, and we all know he’s got a good head on his shoulders.
He’d make sure the place was run right, and he’d be someone we’d not have to worry about doing what’s right,” Demon suggests, followed quickly by Ghost, Judge, and Winger throwing out an Aye.
“I agree, and he has my vote. I reckon we can call his road name, Colt, because I’ve seen no one use a Colt revolver like he can,” I suggest, and look around at my brothers who are nodding and grunting agreement.
“Does everyone agree that we should put an offer on the gas station?” Pres throws out easily and is given a unanimous vote of Aye. “Okay, Coin. Put an offer on it, check what they want for it then lower the fuckin’ price because the place has been standing for years.”
“What do you want to do about Robert?” Cap directly asks Pres.
“We wait until we get the gas station, then we decide. Not before that,” Pres responds.
“Bull, you remain the boss of the recovery. Truck, you take control of the gas station once we get it. It’ll need you to go through the office because walking through it looked like they left all types of paperwork that we can get information from.
Keys, you be prepared to give any information to Truck he may need. ”
Both replied swiftly, “Yes, Pres.” They have no option, as those are the orders given by the Pres, and they do as they are told, as we all do.
“Finger, is everything set for the wedding?” Pres asks.
“Sure is. Miranda, the wedding planner, is great. She has everything organized. Cilla is not stressing about the wedding, and now she’s having some morning sickness, she’s not happy with me at all. It’s my fault, apparently!”
“How is that your fault?” Brewer asks, frowning.
“No idea. She said my swimmers could have been the issue. But only one swimmer made it because we are not having twins or triplets,” I smirk while replying.
“What? Your swimmer makes her sick. She didn’t swallow it, you know it went up, not down,” Judge adds to the conversation, but got a mixed reaction. Some of the brothers laugh, and others groan.
“Okay, let’s call it done. Get to whatever you have to do.
Finger, Cap, Rides, Hot Rod, you are all with me.
We are going to look at the tattoo studio.
Joker, Demon, Phoenix, good work on the place.
From what I know at this point, you’ve done a cracking job,” Pres gives the three of them the recognition for the work they’ve done, and we can all see they are happy with the acknowledgement.
I interrupt with information I’m not sure Pres has. He’s not mentioned it, and I’m sure he would if he knew. “Pres, Cilla is holding five spiritual evenings at the diner. She’s doing a fundraising thing.”
“For what?” Pres asks, and I shrug because I’ve not even asked her. Maybe I need my ass kicked for not checking what my woman’s doing, and why she’s doing it? “Interesting…very interesting…” Pres mumbles under his breath.
Two hours later, we are walking around the tattoo studio for the second time, checking it out, and I admit it’s looking good. Three booths are set up, and they look modern, clean, and won’t have an issue with any health checks.
Scribe has been speaking with Pres, showing him everything, answering questions, and giving information we’d not thought about asking on the previous visit.
Scribe points to a closed door, “We have a room set out for piercings, so we are covered there. Nothing here is going to cause us any issues with regulations or health departments. I made sure we were legal and well within all the regulations so we would never have problems. I run a clean studio, and if a client comes who isn’t clean and I feel I can’t tattoo for any reason, I kick them out. ”
“Good. Any thoughts on having an apprentice, or taking another artist on?” Pres asks as he opens the door and looks into the room where piercings will be done.
“Not immediately.” Scribe looks around the front of the studio. “I want to get the name of the place known first. That way we can pick and choose who will be allowed the privilege of working here.”
“When are you opening the doors to the place?” I ask Scribe as I step closer to where Pres and he are standing.
“Monday morning. I have a full book, and I take deposits which are non-refundable. If they don’t show up, at least I get something as an hourly rate.
But I will work on other things during those times.
I don’t have many no-shows, and as I’m asking fifty percent of the tattoo cost, I’m sure I’ll have hardly any at all.
” Scribe gives us a cocky smirk, to which Pres slaps him on the shoulder while chuckling.
“Do you have any other artists in mind?” Hot Rod asks, and I reckon he has someone in mind.
“Not really.” Scribe responds, but must pick up what I’m thinking, too. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“Well, actually, Jethro, one of our prospects draws some incredible shit. I asked him what he was doing one day when he was scribbling a flag and an eagle. He just said he was enjoying a moment,” Hot Rod responds.
“I reckon you should see his drawings, Scribe. They are amazingly lifelike animals he draws.”
Pres looks at Hot Rod. “Send Jethro here with his drawings. If he’s any good he can be Scribe's apprentice. Keep it all in the family.”
“Yeah, okay, send him over.” Scribe watches us all leave, and we head back to the clubhouse.
Walking into the common room, we all come to an astonished halt. Cilla is standing in the center of the room. Jet is standing close to her, and he’s looking around the room for something? There is a mist in the room and where the fuck is that coming from.
“Cilla, what’s going on?” Pres asks, and when he’s near Cilla he isn’t Pres to her. He’s Tracker, and she knows he’s the boss, but she sees him more as an older brother.
“My mother here is pissing me off. She’s saying my wedding isn’t what it should be.
That it should be in church, white gown, all that bullshit pomp that I don’t want…
” Cilla is getting very upset and I dash over and wrap my arms around her, but how the fuck do you get rid of a ghost that is upsetting your woman?
“Bono, sort the bitch out because I’ll not forget if you don’t fuck her off. I’ll sort you out when it’s my time and you’ll be fuckin’ sorry,” now in Tracker-come-Pres mode he snarls but gives Cilla a light squeeze of the shoulder.
Cilla gives Tracker a watery smile, which breaks your heart because my woman isn’t one for crying. “Tank, do something, brother,” I murmur as I hug Cilla tight to my body.
We all stare at where Cilla is looking, but we can’t see anything, so it’s a bit of a one-sided thing. I look down at Cilla and notice the small smile appearing.
Tracker folds his arms across his chest, then looks down at Cilla, too. “What’s going on?” he asks as he looks forward once more.
“It seems my grandmother has arrived, and she has my mother by the ear and is dragging her away. Tank and Pyro are following, just to be sure she’s gone this time,” Cilla answers, and the huge smile tells us all we need to know.
“Oh, Pyro is sending small puffs of smoke her way, just as a reminder he can light up her ass anytime he likes. That’s what he's saying, and he’s saying it with a massive smile on his face. ”
“God, I wish I could see this shit!” All of us standing turn to look at Jet who is squinting toward the front of everyone.
“If you could sign up to have this ability, I’d be the first in the line.
Get behind me, Pres.” Jet must realize what he said as he turns slowly to look at Tracker who is scowling something fierce.
Jet stutters, “Umm, mmm, I've got somethin’ to do.”
None of us dare chuckle at his dilemma, but watch Tracker as he grunts, mumbles, and walks out of the common room toward his office.
Cilla giggles, and I kiss the top of her head admittedly with a huge smile on my face.