Red Raven also had a son in the club, whom we nicknamed Pink Raven. He was still in the prospect stage, but it was fully understood that once Red Raven retired or quit, Pink Raven was assuming his title. The younger Raven had all the skills, smarts, and social timing Red Raven had, and the energy and physical skill to boot.
Seconds later, the rest of the club entered. Axle and Butch walked in together, as they often did, and Father Marcellus was the last to enter, as usual. Father Marcellus wasn’t exactly a prude as most ministers were—he smoked, he drank—but he had a very serious tone to him that was not overbearing like Butch or Axle. When he went silent, so did everyone else—including me.
Case in point, as soon as he sat down, the room stopped talking.
“Thanks, everyone, for coming,” I said, trying to be a little bit warmer than usual. It was my attempt to at least break the ice with everyone, recognizing I wouldn’t melt it completely in the course of a single day. “I guess we could just get right down to business.”
In my defense, if we aren’t making money, there is no club. No matter what the others say, we have to make money.
“We’re facing some issues with the gun trade,” I said, getting to an issue that had bugged us since January and hadn’t been solved in the past few months. “Thanks to political pressure, more and more people are holding on to their guns, and it’s getting harder just to purchase them legally. Sometimes, I swear this state has such a rifle stuck up its own ass.”
My attempt at humor fell flat. I wasn’t sure what good it would be to connect to members of the club if they didn’t seem interested in engaging me back either.
“In any case, because of this, we’re going to need to go and visit some of the local gun shops and some of the local politicians, see if we can throw our weight behind this,” I said. “I’m thinking Axle, Butch, and Marc, you three could make a visit over. You can play the role of the good, the bad, and the ugly, and—”
“Hold up.”
I had almost never gotten interrupted in a meeting before, and when I had, the person usually apologized to me. Typically, it really came because of an accident, and I was never that bothered by it.
But when it came from my Vice President, Axle? When the look on his face seemed completely unapologetic? When, in fact, he seemed to be challenging me?
“What?”
Yeah, I was a little pissed off.
“You’re going to send the three of us off, fine,” he said. “But what are you going to do?”
“Me?” I said. “I’m going to make sure the right people go to the right targets so we can maximize what we’re trying to do.”
“Bullshit,” Butch said. “You’re scared.”
“What?” I said, reeling.Because Butch is right.“Okay, what would you have me do? What do you want me to do? It’ll be hard for me to lead if I’m not detached and able to take a high-level view.”
“What are you, the fucking CEO of Google?” Axle said. “We have, what, six officers in this room and maybe a few dozen people in the club otherwise. You’re not some guy in a suit on the fiftieth floor overseeing two thousand people. You should know everyone in this room.”
“I do.”
“You should have done runs with everyone in this room.”
“I have.”
And then Axle went for the jugular.
“Your father always went out with us, Lane,” he said. “He wasn’t trying to be macho or detached. He wasn’t trying to prove he was the President. He was leading by example.”
“Do I look like my goddamn father?” I shouted.
That seemed to spark off a round of words from multiple sides, with everyone except Patriot and Red Raven speaking. Red Raven was impossible to read, as he always was. Patriot just crossed his arms and looked at me with disappointment, as if to say, “I told you so.”
“Alright, enough,” I said, slamming my fists on the table. “I recognize what I am doing may not work for everyone here. I am happy to bring up such issues individually.”
I bit my lip. Maybe I was a bit on edge because I had visited my father’s grave and Shannon’s as well, but the other officers had not. They didn’t have a reason to be angry.
As if I need more trouble in my life.
But if it’s trouble I deserve...
“However,” I said, doing all I could to keep my words calm and not inflammatory. “The gun issue is a sincere one. The politicians are getting more and more anti-gun. I am happy to help on the ground, but I sincerely, truly believe the three of you will make a better communicative force than I would.”
