“Okay,” I reply plainly.
“Patch in with me. I need you to have my back, man.”
I sigh as I hold up the coded files. “This place is a fucking mess.”
“So let’s change it. My dad… these old, out-of-touch assholes have been runnin’ shit for too long.”
“You want to overthrow your dad?” I ask, this being news to me.
“No, not necessarily, but we need to do shit different. We can’t end up like the other chapters. We need to change this place from the inside out,” he says.
I hold up the papers and toss him the folder from last year.
“Any idea what they could be selling or doing to make the money that’s coming in?” I ask. Tate scans the documents but looks just as confused as ever.
“I’m not sure what I’m lookin’ at.”
“The un-highlighted amounts. They don’t have an identifier saying where the money is coming from,” I explain.
Tate’s brows furrow as he flips through the files. “Let’s keep this between me and you, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I agree easily. The last thing I want to do is seem like I’m looking too close into things when I just got here. I already know there’s some suspicion on me with the way I left Jacksonville. I’m no fucking rat, but I’m not an idiot either.
“Patch in with me. Help me fix this shit.”
“Do you even have a plan, man?”
“No, but I’m workin’ on it. So many of the other guys are tired of the way Kurt runs shit with a dictator-style gavel. The whole point of joining a club like this is to live freely. Fuck the government, the state of Florida, and fuck my dad for thinking he can control the way we all live,” he rants.
“This sounds more personal than anything,” I point out, not wanting to find myself in the middle of some serious family drama.
“It is to a degree, but hell, maybe we could patch in and then start our own chapter if that’s what it takes. Aren’t you tired of the same shit with each chapter? The best part of being a nomad was the freedom, but it came at the cost of not feeling like you’re a part of somethin’ real. Don’t you want that?”
I wish Tate wasn’t making so much sense. I wish I didn’t get what he was saying, but I do. I joined a club to live the way I see fit, not to do so by anyone else’s standards.
“Alright, Tate. I’ll patch in. But if shit starts looking dicey, I’m out of this motherfucker.”
He grins at me and pulls out a bottle of Jameson. He flicks the cap off, sending it across the room.
“To anarchy,” he cheers, taking a deep swig and handing me the bottle.
“To anarchy,” I repeat, wondering if this will be the worst decision of my life. The whiskey burns as it travels down my throat, and I find myself more than willing to make some reckless decisions.
It’s been a shit week.Not only because I had to stay back and see what type of retaliation we would be lookin’ at from the Outlaws, but because I haven’t been able to communicate with Lily.
Lucky for us, they have too many enemies and none of their pathetic little prospects got a good enough look at any of us, which means I get to drive home today.
It’s crazy that there’s nowhere I’d rather be. Not just because my girl is here, probably wondering where the fuck I’ve been or why we haven’t talked since that night, but because I’m gaining more brothers tonight. We’re voting on who gets patched in.
As soon as these fuckers get their new patches and the booze is flowing, I’ll be sneaking out to find Lily.
I should be concerned about the way she floods my thoughts. It’s obsessive and destructive, but I don’t really give a fuck. Without an outlet for my attention, I implode. I can’t help but feel like Lily would always keep me centered.
The room is the fullest it’s ever been. The oldest and longest-standing members sit around the long wooden table while the rest of us stand, except for the prospects who are waiting out in the main area of the clubhouse.
Prez is front and center, his fist wrapped around his gavel as he bangs it against the table.
“Alright, settle down. The quicker we get this shit over with, the quicker the lot of you can get your dicks wet. Now, if you’re here and you ain’t lookin’ to patch in, walk your ass out that door now. No hard feelings. But if you stay, you’re one of us. You’ll wear your Dead Palms patch with the Tallahassee Original emblem. You’ll be a part of this family, something bigger than yourself, and the men around you will become your brothers. It’s unprecedented to have so many members patch over at the same time, but this club is moving forward and growing.” Prez shakes his head and sighs. “Enough with the bullshit. Everyone who’s still here is patching in, yeah?”
