Micro nodded, glancing at his phone on the desk, tapping the button, something he’d taken to doing often since Sophie had started approaching her due date.
“It’s going to be awesome. It’s all getting knocked down, via a demo party of course, which you’re welcome to join. Then we’llhave to bring in some temporary housing and stuff, while we work on the rebuild.”
Henley cleared his throat, sitting forward in his seat. “I might be able to help out with some of that actually. I uh… have my own business, and I’d have some accommodations you could set up here.”
I frowned, because I’d never thought to ask what he did as a job, but he clearly did well out of whatever the hell it was.
“What’s the business?” I saw Grease and Micro were just as avidly curious as I was now.
Henley smiled, glancing at each of us. “No laughing now, because it’s good business and good money. I own a glamping business.”
Our blank faces must have told him how utterly clueless we were, because he fidgeted in his seat a little, smoothing his pricy leather jacket as he sat taller.
“Glamping. You know, camping, but posh.” We were all still silent and processing.
“Okay, that’s the way it gets described most often. High end accommodations, plush living, but outdoorsy. Look, fortunately I don’t work in marketing, yeah? I just own it. But we have portable glamping setups we could loan to the club, you know, as a gesture from me to you.”
Grease was chuckling to himself, so we all stared at him for a moment, letting Henley feel a little less of the intense focus on him.
“Something funny?” Micro asked him, and Grease shook his head.
“Nah, just the idea of any of you fuckers glamping. I mean, you wouldn’t know luxury if it jumped up and bit your ass.”
“Prick. I’ve lived in nice places,” I argued, and he shrugged.
“Just saying, as a man accustomed to a luxury lifestyle, you guys wouldn’t know what to do with yourselves.”
Henley dug a business card out of his pocket, and then a pricy looking pen, jotting something on the card, before handing it to Micro.
“That’s my business manager, just give her a call, and let her know I’m making whatever resources available that you guys need for your rebuild. As a favour.”
Micro stared at the card shrewdly. “That’s a pretty expensive favour, man. We’re grateful, don’t get me wrong, but is this you trying to buy your way into the club?”
“Doesn’t want to go prospect, that’s what it is,” Grease joked, and Micro glared at him.
“Like you didn’t, you mean? Look, I know there are ways things are done, but I’ll be honest. I’m not as much of a hard line as other Presidents. Grease avoided the prospect phase for reasons that I won’t go into. I’m not saying you get a pass, Henley, but you don’t have to throw expensive favours at us to get a chance. We’re not only after what we can get from our members. We want good honest friendships, a brotherhood. We all give, and we all receive-”
“I ain’t receiving you, dickhead.”
Micro groaned, ignoring Grease, and passing the business card to me, which I tucked in the pocket inside my cut.
“Harley and Caroline are overseeing the demo and rebuild, so I’ll leave it in their capable hands. We all really appreciate the offer, Henley. We’re not looking to take advantage of new members, or prospective ones, but we’ll definitely consider some arrangement with you.”
Henley nodded, lifting his hands. “Can’t ask for more than that. I think the old president here would have snatched up my favour, and stabbed me in the back for my efforts.”
“True,” I replied, and Micro suddenly smirked, sending a sly look right at Grease.
“Good thing the club rose from the ashes then, eh?”
“Fuck’s sake!”Grease wrenched the door open and marched out of the room.
“That’s going to be really useful for when I want him to sod off,” Micro said with a chuckle, leaning back in his seat, and checking his phone again.
“We’ll go look around some more, Pres, thanks for your time. No word on Soph yet?” It was a moot question, because if there was news, we’d know it. Still, he shook his head, and eyed his phone intensely.
“Might ring her though, and just check she’s good. Grace is spending time with her when I’m not there, but you know… I feel like I should keep checking.”
I stood up, gesturing to Henley to do the same, and he did, leaning forward to shake Micro’s hand again. I liked his manners. They’d go a long way with me, since most of the club were more likely to spit on their palm before they did such a thing.
