Iwatch my brother walk the women out. He’s going to be pissed. He wanted Symphony here for opening night.
Marietta is something else. I’m not sure I can stop what she’s started.
Hoss slams his hand on the table. “If she wants to be a club bunny, we need to let her.”
“I don’t know,” Two-Shit says, eyeing me over his pint class. “She’s caused a lot of trouble for the prospect already.”
“Hell, yeah,” Chain says. “That girl opens more cans of beans than a fart factory.”
“And we all saw her nonexistent tits.” Too Fast Freddy sucks on a vape.
“Fuck you,” I tell Too Fast Freddy.
Chain laughs. “They’re good enough for me. Ain’t popped myself a cherry in a very long time. I want to stake my claim. Put it to a vote.”
Low Joe chortles. “Is anybody eligible for the cherry?”
His ol’ lady Betz is close enough to hear him. She storms over and smacks his head so hard it knocks off his bandanna, revealing a bald spot in the middle of his wiry gray hair.
“The fuck you are,” I say, standing.
Iron Jack lifts his palms. “We won’t be voting on this tonight. This isn’t church, and we don’t have our VP. We’ll talk at our next meeting, and someone can reach out to the girl once we decide if we’re even going to proceed.”
“She left. Isn’t it over?” I ask.
Iron Jack shakes his head. “A cherry asking to be a club bunny is going to make the rounds. If we don’t claim her, some other club might step in, and they might not be so nice about it.”
Fuck. I didn’t need this to happen only two months into my time as a prospect. I don’t even have a vote. God damn it. If the Wild Hair wants Marietta, they’re going to make it hard for her to refuse.
I sit back down. This whole thing is utter bullshit. I joined the club because I could see what was about to happen. Diesel, my brother and the only family I’ve put up with for the last decade, is going to art school. He’s gone plumb fog-headed over that blonde.
And Symphony’s fine. I like her. I’m glad he found her, that they’re so tight.
But I had next to nothing once he was on top of her all the time. Two-Shit filled the gap. Then Chain and Stoney and Hoss.
So, I patched in a prospect. Why not? I see the club every day, other than Iron Jack, who is our primary heavy and does the bulk of the protection side of the club.
I spot the whiteboard Low Joe brought out and lean over to wipe the message off. I already knew Marietta’s status, but now the entire club is in on it. And maybe other clubs. Her private detail has put a mark on her head.
Iron Jack smacks the table. “That’s enough. It’s a big night for the Leaky Skull. Get to drinking!” He throws a wad of money down. “Serve up shots for the club.”
Vicki has an eagle eye for cash and swings in close to snatch up the bills and drop them on her tray. “I’ll bring ‘em around.”She flashes her eyes at Iron Jack, even though she’s old enough to be his mother.
He doesn’t notice.
I’m relieved he didn’t take an interest in Marietta. That would have been a real problem. I can probably take on the others without hurting my chances in the club. The fight tonight proved that.
But there’s no going up against the president. Not if you’re going to stay in the club. Or live.
I pick up the empty whiteboard and pass it over the bar to Jake. “Get this back up.” Then I walk the length of the counter, patting shoulders and acting friendly, even if inside I’m not clear what I ought to do.
Marietta has made my life a hell of a lot more challenging.
Iron Jack holds church as usual at the club’s main house.
I roar up to it at half-past ten. As a prospect, I’m expected to be there even if I don’t have a say in club business yet.
By the time I’ve slung my helmet over the handlebars, a few others who live off site are arriving, a plume of dust in their wake on the dirt road.
