“We do a meet with ASMC heads. They do have a mother chapter, it’s just not billed as such. The chapter in Jacksonville is where they started.”
“Jacksonville, Texas? We need to get in touch with Blackie’s folks?”
“Nope, because that might make sense. Jacksonville, Florida. They have exactly two chapters, mother and Baton Rouge.” Myron’s voice communicated his level of disbelief. “Fucking six hundred miles between their only two groups. That’s just asking for a mess.”
“Where does this meet happen?” Cherry was already running various scenarios in his head.
“Right where you are, and in about thirty minutes. They’re already on a plane headed your way and should be landing at Metro in less than five.”
Silence descended on the men around the table, each of them showing some level of astonishment. Cherry finally broke the quiet and asked, “Say what? Say again? I don’t think I caught that.”
“Yes you did, Cherry.” Pony cut in, his voice trembling with glee. “Thirty minutes to get the hangarounds driven off, get the main room set for a meeting, and explain to the members they’ll stand around the edge and won’t interrupt. Get busy, big man. Chop, chop.”
“Jesus wept.” Cherry pushed back from the table. “Hope they’re not expecting any pleasantries because we’re going to just jump off the dock into the deep end. Are you already sending the documentation to me?”
“You and the other three men sitting with you.”
“Good job, I gotta go get shit sorted.” He paused. “Good job, Pony, Myron. Thanks for your work. Also, good to meet you, Myron. Heard a lot of good things about you. Sure you don’t want to patch over to IMC?”
“No, he does not.” A deep voice echoed over the phone’s speaker, and Wildman nearly fell out of his chair laughing. “This is Mason, and Myron is mine.”
A click indicated the call had ended and Cherry looked around the room at the men, all laughing. “Was it something I said?” He rolled his eyes and moved to the front room. This was where they’d meet, not in the room the chapter used for church. He got the furniture movement lined out, and turned to the bar with a set of instructions. Hangarounds got the eviction notice, and prospects understood they were parking lot security, nothing more. Cherry toggled to the app the club used for communication and keyed up an all-hands message. If they could get to the clubhouse within twenty minutes, they were to come. If not, stay away. He didn’t want any members coming in after they were seated.
Finally, he took a minute to review the information forwarded to his phone via the secure app. Each was more damning than the previous. LaBlanc had been playing all aspects of his life off each other.
Wildman strolled up next to him. “Pretty cut and dried.”
“I want him here for it. That would be ideal. But we’ve got—” He checked his watch. “—less than twenty minutes now.”
“Lemme see what I can do.” Wildman pulled out his phone and stepped outside, already talking before the door closed. “Myron, one more thing—”
“Ruger, Busk, wanna chat a minute.” Cherry tilted his head towards the door leading to the back room. The two men followed him and Busk closed the door.
He started talking as soon as the door clicked shut. “Here’s what I know. Atlas is their president, Loki the VP, and don’t you wonder how he got that name? Anyway, Enforcer is also coming, and he’s Simba. ASMC has been based out of Jacksonville for years, it’s a generational club. One member’s kid took off and that’s where we get the Baton Rouge chapter. That’s Apollo. His old man was a lifer, just like Atlas’ old man, and so on. In Jacksonville, they are a white knight club, and nothing Myron or Pony can dig up says that they knew about what’s been going on here. This might be a quick meeting.”
Ruger nodded. “Or it might be a longer, more important meeting. I’ve got Twisted on speed dial, just in case there’s anything significant to discuss.”
***
“Naw, man. We’ve gotnothing to discuss.” Atlas shook his head for about the fifteenth time. “We’re not moving dope through your territory. My guys assured me they’re staying on the Texas side of the line for any off-book runs.” He pointed over to where LaBlanc was seated along the wall, held in the chair by the heavy hands of two IMC members pressing down on his shoulders. “I don’t know what to say about that one. His probation wasn’t run past our Jacksonville guys. I’ll have to get with the others. Or, know what? I’d very much like to have Apollo and Dillinger here. I understand wanting to take the trash to the top tier, but I’d like to hear what they have to say before we go any further.”
Cherry grit his teeth until his jaw hurt. These assholes weren’t understanding what was going on right under their nose. They’d perked up at the four million LaBlanc had stashed offshore, but other than that they’d waved off anything the IMC officers had laid out. He didn’t know where Wildman was finding the patience to deal, because he’d have thrown a table by now.
“Then let’s get them here.” Wildman pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey Apollo, this is Wildman. Would you mind a quick trip to the IMC clubhouse here in Baton Rouge? Bring Dilly if you would. No, not much, just something to discuss.” He paused, tilting his head up as he listened. “Yeah, I’m still hopeful we can work something out. That’s why I wanna talk to you tonight.” Another pause, then he grinned, the expression feral and vicious. “See you in ten.” Leaning back in his chair, he tossed the phone to the tabletop. “On their way, Atlas.” He sat up suddenly. “Say, does your club have something about Greek mythology? I just realized you’ve got Atlas and Apollo, but then Loki is Norse. And Simba and Dillinger don’t fit the schema. Is there a schema?”
“Oh, hell no. Don’t get him started.” Loki laughed as he spoke up for the first time during the meeting. “He can go on and on about Greek versus Norse, or Hindu lined up against Egyptian. Everything is a mythology, if it’s old enough and someone wrote a book about it.”
Atlas grinned good naturedly. “I’m not that bad.”
“You are exactly that bad, brother.” Loki leaned against the table. “Last year we were down at Daytona and he about got in a fight with a Rebels’ guy. The shouting match was like flame to tinder.”
“Who was it?” Wildman asked intently.
“Bones. He debated well. We were having a good time before someone broke it up.” Atlas pretended to glower at Loki.
“Yeah, Bones is a good one. We’re allied with the Rebels here, and all along the coast. It pays to have good relationships with other clubs.” Wildman tipped his head up. “They should be rolling in any minute.” A heavy sigh was followed by a low hum. “If they’re going to show, that is.”
“Why wouldn’t they show?” Atlas seemed genuinely taken aback. “If they said they’d be here, why wouldn’t they show?”
