“Yeah, I don’t think so, man.”
“Woman troubles, yeah?”
Grease shook his head and turned to Micro. “He’s VP now, maybe we just tell him.” Tell me what?
Micro gestured to him to continue, and he groaned. “Man, I thought you’d do the talking. You’re so good at it, Pres.” He got flipped off in response, so he sighed and gestured to the desk.
“Get out the good shit then, assuming you have any.”
“I’m not staying tonight, so I need to ride back.”
“You can have one, man. We’re gonna be a while.”
I watched the screen on my tablet fade to black as I waited for someone to talk. After the secrets Micro had revealed when he was drunk that night, I figured it couldn’t be worse than anything he told me.
“I’m… I wasn’t always a biker,” Grease said slowly, and I rolled my eyes at him.
“Duh, we all start somewhere, even if we’re born to it. Really, this is what you’re edging me for? Nobody here doesn’t have a past.”
“His past is more present, and future too.”
“That makes so little fucking sense, you idiot.”
“I’m not really in the mood for a sideshow, guys, so can you just tell me, or let me get on with what I wanted to show you?”
“He’s definitely not his usual self, man.”
“Just get on with it, Grease,” Micro groaned, gulping his bourbon and sitting back.
Grease glared at him, and then laughed. “Here I am, telling you it’s time to out my secret, then getting pissed at you for agreeing. And I thought you were always the biggest prick in the room.”
He ignored Micro’s attempt to bounce a balled up piece of paper off his face, and flipped him off.
“Okay, so Micro knows me from before, when I was with the other chapter, but I was never a biker. I mean, until then, when I realised it was the only fucking life that mattered. Yeah. So my real name is Tesio Agosti, although I’m not him anymore. I was originally loaned to the other chapter by Don Rossi. I was one of his men, working undercover.”
My jaw dropped, and he laughed. “I hide it well, huh?”
Suddenly lots of little things were dropping into place. Like his name, and his access to all kinds of stuff that never seemed possible. Oh, and things like Stitch telling people to get with Grease for answers about the mafia guys they were affiliated with. Even Rocket apparently calling him a ‘mafia douche’, which I’d assumed at the time was a racial slur.
“You bastard,” I said lightly, sipping more of my drink as my mind jumped from memory to memory, connecting the dots.
“And you went on the run because you got involved with Jamie?”
He shrugged. “I mean, I was already on thin ice at that point, putting the club ahead of the ‘family’ or whatever. I’m not disloyal, and I need you to know that. I just realise that the club was where my loyalty belonged.”
“So you’re out now?” He wavered a hand in the air and said ‘ehhh’.
“He’s still our go between, but he’s also staying. Uh this isn’t going to be common knowledge outside of this room, so only the other original Phoenix guys know, but that includes Rocket and Stag, of course.”
“Is this why Rocket has a beef with you?”
Grease shrugged again. “Been meaning to break his face, so who knows? Maybe tomorrow will be the day.”
“Not in my fucking shop, asshole.”
“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. We just thought, as VP, you should know the inner shit nobody else gets to know.”
“Anything else you’re about to spring on me?”
