Chapter 27
twenty-seven
JUDE
As I pull into the lot of White Dog, I’m not at all surprised to find Eunice Poché in her backyard, the water hose in her hand pointed to the rose bushes.
She’s still in her house dress and slippers, watching me through the chain link fence.
I park further away from the cluster of Harleys.
It takes forever to hit the road when there are so many of us together, and I’m eager to get back to the apartment.
After removing my helmet, I give her a curt nod, “Forgot to turn the water on again, Eunice.”
Without skipping a beat or bothering to look down, she says, “Must have forgotten to twist it all the way. Can’t do anything with my arthritis acting up.”
I feel my lips start to curl with amusement. “How’s your brother doing?”
“Cantankerous as ever about the election,” she answers, still holding her pretending to water the flowers pose.
“Yeah, I heard someone was running against him this time,” I respond, trying to hide the amusement in my voice.
“One of the deputies got it in his head that he could do better and put Tony out to pasture.”
Amused, I throw out the bait, “Well, isn’t that something? He’s run unopposed in the last two elections, hasn't he?”
“It’s them bible thumpers trying to get the Quickie Mart to stop selling liquor on Sundays.”
Is that what he’s telling people? Despite long term peace between the town officials, Odin and Sheriff Tony Poché are in a good old fashioned pissing contest. I don’t know why the lawman bothers trying to get the upper hand. Odin has more connections and deeper pockets.
Knowing the club is trying to acquire all the buildings surrounding White Dog, the sheriff bought the house next to the prospects before we knew it was going on the market.
As an extra “fuck you,” he promptly moved in his snoopy sister.
From the security cameras at White Dog, Odin watched Eunice move in with the stoic amusement of a chess master whose opponent opened up their king to be put into check.
“What does he think he’s gonna find out watching the prospects? How to detail a Harley?”
We know what the lawman is really after, though.
The location of the clubhouse. Odin’s family has owned the land for over a century.
Before the club was founded, Hurricane Camille destroyed all evidence of ownership and tax records from the land.
A friend of the club does the rest if someone happens into the court house to ask about the property.
Nestled somewhere deep in the bayou, it's so far off the beaten path that it’s extremely rare for anyone to stumble across our clubhouse.
The exact location is known only to the patched members and a chosen few old ladies, but after more than a year spent there, I have my suspicions.
The clinking of beer bottles and unfiltered laughs greet me as the back door squeaks open.
The main room is standing room only, everybody keeping a respectful distance from Folgers and Prez. A wall’s been knocked down to make one big room, giving enough space for all of us to convene.
The Parran chapter itself only has about a handful of prospects at a time, but other chapters are required to send their prospects here for a month before they’re allowed to be patched in. Folgers calls it quality control.
“Bout time you showed up,” Odin rebukes from his station by the door.
“Like you were any better when you claimed Darcy,” Folgers teases.
“Ahh, that’s right. Sully’s new nurse, right? Guess it worked out well that you claimed her, if the old one is going with Doc.”
I gnash my back molars so tight my jaw starts to hurt.
Whether it’s technically right or not, it grates across my skin like sandpaper to hear Greer referred to as Sully’s anything.
She’s mine, and nothing to any other man.
“She’s not participating in any club business,” I inform him.
My old lady, my call. Dr. Hebert’s nurse helps at the underground fights and when delicate situations arise that we can’t bring to the emergency room.
I don’t want Greer mixed up in all of that. I’m around and able to help out.
Prez’s expression is blank when he nods understandingly. I have to tread carefully with him. Prez hates that Darcy and I were friends before they met, even if it was a work type thing.
Now that I have Greer, I can better understand Odin’s reaction to our friendship.
Platonic or not, the thought of another man spending time with my Baby Doll makes my blood pressure rise to an unnatural rate.
I don’t want anybody having Greer’s attention, past or future.
I want to hoard it like a treasure more dear than the one left buried in the swamp by Jean Lafitte.
“Eunice was outside watering the roses again,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood.
Odin throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, “So much trouble over a war he’s going to lose. The sheriff’s happy to walk out with the club’s money when he’s winning at blackjack, but doesn’t want to pay when he’s in the hole.”
“It looked like she was counting bikes,” I remark. One bike for each man, giving a close head count of those present at today’s meeting.
“A waste of her time. Federal agents were on Main Street during my grandfather’s funeral escort. Anybody who wants our numbers has it.”
Although it’s been a year and a half since the incident, you can hear the sudden fury in his voice. I don’t blame him.
Odin’s grandfather, Cooker, was the president when he passed away.
His funeral escort was everything a man in his position deserved.
Not to show up to honor him would have been disrespectful.
All of the brothers from the Parran Chapter took one last ride with Cooker, flanked by the officers from other chapters.
It was a once in a lifetime opportunity for three letter agencies to collect information on the club’s numbers and hierarchy.
Odin considered it a slap on the face, since it was his grandfather who got us out of some of our riskier business deals, and off (some) watch lists.
It kills me that the family wasn’t allowed to grieve in peace. Prez seemed to let it go at the time, biting his tongue for the sake of harmony, but with everything else with the sheriff, all the bad feelings have risen to the surface, even more sour with time.
“You know, maybe Eunice is watching cause she wants to go for a ride,” Folgers says with a mock puzzled expression. He’s changing the subject, knowing how Prez gets when he’s in a mood.
“What do you say, Prospect. Wanna let her cruise around for a couple hours on your ride?”
“The back of my bike is taken, thank you,” I say with a chuckle.
As I make my escape to join the other prospects, Folgers asks, “How long are you going to put up with Sheriff Poché’s nonsense?”
“As long as I feel like it. He only gets funnier looking every time he shows up at the garage, all puffed up.”
I stifle a laugh, looking for a spot in the crowd. I’m along the back wall, near a door, when Three-Peat approaches. “You haven’t been back to the prospect house. Where ya been? I had to cover for you with Archer.”
“Greer has a place in town. Her cousin was in all that shit that went down last night.”
There are rules about checking in at the prospect house.
Every twenty-four hours on a normal day, and within four after you return from a run.
I haven’t been back at all since leaving town.
Unfortunately for Archer, he was given the job as “house mom” as penance from Folgers.
My sponsor likes to get creative when handing out justice.
Archer interfered when he shouldn’t have, so Folgers told him if he was going to act like everybody’s momma, he could keep tabs on them at the prospect houses.
“She wasn’t the one who got hurt was she?” Three-Peat asks.
“Nah, she didn’t have a scratch on her. The big thing is that Greer was worried, you know?”
“You should buy her flowers. Nice girls love flowers when they’re upset.”
Archer walks by wearing a scowl. Without stopping he bitches, “You’ve got a fuck ton of packages. Someone left them all by your door, and they’re taking up half the damn hallway.”
The words are a switch, lightening my mood. Well, didn’t our date night just get a lot more interesting.
We’re definitely using the wedge pillow tonight.
Folgers starts the meeting shortly thereafter.
Despite his casual tone, there’s a shift in the energy of the room, an increased alertness from the normal playful banter.
“As you know there’s been an increase in fights outside of the ring.
We’re reducing the number of guests each member may bring, as well as tightening the screening process… ”
Folgers’ voice trails on, all information I’ve either already garnered myself, or that’s common sense. My mind starts to wander to an inventory of the packages waiting for us next door. Playtime is going to become more fun for us as time passes and we learn each other's bodies.
I should have bought the sex swing.
Folgers voice turns to white noise as I plan Greer’s introduction to each new toy. A vibrator ring on her clit while I eat her pussy. No, a wand. I need her body ready for what I have in store for us.
I daydream of fiery hair in my face, fingers gripped on pale flesh, the scent of her, the salty taste of her pussy from an orgasm.
Three-Peat lodges an elbow into my rib, telling me I should listen. I groan, glaring at him. Folgers is staring at me like a professor who caught their student on an iPhone. He gives me a disapproving shake of the head before turning his attention back to the crowd as a whole.
After Folgers tells us all to get lost, I pick up my beer bottle and start to head for the door. “Band-Aid,” a deep voice calls.
I turn to see Prez gesturing to approach. “You got plans tonight?”
“Yeah, I’m still on my allotted downtime after the run. Taking Greer out on a date.”
He scratches his bearded jaw deep in thought before saying, “I need someone to help with a liquor restock tomorrow. Meet up at two p.m. at the casino and someone will bring you to the compound.”
“Got it.” Light duty for a weekend, unless I get dragged into something else.
“Oh, and just a heads up, Darcy’s inviting Greer over tomorrow. I think she wants some company.”
“Thank you for inviting her over. Who’s doing Darcy’s security?
” I ask. Few of the old ladies get one on one time with Darcy, so this is an honor.
It’s not Darcy’s doing, Prez is persnickety about who he lets around his family.
I know Greer will be perfectly safe but I still want to know who will be there.
“Archer and Three-Peat.”
A stern expression comes to his face. “You know Darcy’s going to get attached to her. If she gets hurt…”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life than I am about two things. Greer, and the club.”
“Prospect, I’ve been there myself.”