Sonny
It had only taken me a second when I entered church to know where to sit.
The president’s chair.
If my father did not understand, then he truly had let his ego get the best of him. The club was bigger than any of us, even him; in his absence, someone had to assume the mantle and ensure stability. Without it, King would get what he wanted.
Admittedly, that didn’t mean sitting in the chair felt natural on the spot. There was a moment, upon sitting down, where it just felt off. It wasn’t my chair; it was my father’s. It wasn’t the vice president’s; it was the president’s. It wasn’t mine yet; it was mine someday.
But as the Black Reapers entered, as Spawn trailed, those doubts vanished. Someday had become today. I had become, for all practical purposes, president.
And I would not fail this club.
I waited until everyone was seated to clear my throat and begin speaking.
“I am in charge now of the Devil’s Patriots, and I will take control,” I said. “Let me make one thing clear. As far as I am concerned, my father is dead.”
It sounded so cold when I said it out loud. But I was not speaking as Solomon, son of Sam; I was speaking as the president of the Devil’s Patriots.
“He may recover, but we cannot afford to wait for him to do so, and thus we will not. Even if he wakes up, he will need time to recover and process what has happened. Any questions?”
There were surprised expressions all over the room. The only one that didn’t look too shocked was Cole, but even he looked a little puzzled, as if he hadn’t expected me to go that far. But for whatever questions may have underlined those expressions, none were raised.
“None at all,” Cole said, “we’re just ready for you to tell us what you want to do.”
“Good.”
That was easier than expected.
But now the actual challenge comes into play.
“My father wanted to negotiate deals with you all and attack the King’s Men as we might a rival gang. Street combat. Burn them to the ground. But we’re fighting the wrong way. For starters, we’re not even fighting.”
Lane and Brock, especially, were more tuned in than I had ever seen them in a meeting. They seemed to appreciate my honesty; not that my father wasn’t honest, but he was likely blind to his own problems and weak spots. I wasn’t afraid to call them out, but that didn’t mean I’d throw myself at the mercy of the Black Reapers.
We were still going to strike a deal that ultimately kept our independence. But we’d also find realistic common ground.
“We’re spending so much time bitching at each other and not getting anything done that we let my fucking father get put in a coma, the fucking girls get trapped in their apartment, and you guys unable to do anything. And you all know it’s only a matter of time before they start coming after you.”
“We’ve seen it firsthand,” Lane said, “sometimes with that hand punching us in the fucking face. We’re not about to underestimate anything King can do.”
Make sure of it. It’s hard to overestimate his potential.
“Good,” I said. “But even with all that said, even if we can perfectly put aside our differences and reach some sort of agreement, we’re still fighting the wrong way.”
Spawn fidgeted uneasily in his seat. I knew he agreed with me, but I knew that asking a sergeant-at-arms to fight in a more underhanded, controlled fashion was a big request.
“We have to be honest with ourselves and stop thinking like we’re the fucking best. They outnumber us two to one in men. We’re not going to win a street war, no matter how much military experience we have on our side. It’s just not going to fucking happen. Do any of you disagree?”
The silence was incredible. I figured at least one of the guys would give me push back of some kind and tell me why I was wrong, but not even Brock said a word. It was stunning for them to agree tacitly with what I said.
But I wasn’t about to suck my own cock for getting them to go as silent as a church on a weekday.
“We need to be more nuanced and think in more undercutting schemes,” I said. “We need to infiltrate their ranks, sow division, and have the chaos end within. We need to split them apart.”
“Easier said than done.”
I was almost relieved someone was coming to interrupt me. I was not so relieved to see that it was Cole. He’d have actual problems to talk about, actual concerns to consider. That wasn’t such a good thing for me.
