“I’d like it, too. Hell, I’m even kind of getting used to the asshole who’s running my club these days,” Skull says. I try to contain my grin when King flips him off, but I fail.
Damn it.
“I’ve been through our books dating back years. The club began turning bigger profits when a seventeen-year-old kid took over painting our bikes and shit,” King adds, and I sigh.
I knew that. Dad didn’t bother hiding the pride he felt in me when Skull told him that exact thing and booked him for five more jobs that same week. From that day on, I busted my ass in the garage—while going to vocational school to get a degree in auto body. I immersed myself in my studies, learning various painting techniques. With that experience, plus the fact I’m in high demand—not to mention the awards and magazine articles I’ve been the subject of—I know I’m better now. I try not to get cocky and say I’m the best. I’ve always felt like there’s always someone better than you are. You just have to work harder and strive to make it so that people want you over anyone else. It's been my motto when it comes to work, and it has never steered me wrong.
“What I’m asking is that you finally meet with me. You understand my purpose and that you allow me to form a relationship with you. Sure, it won’t be like the one you have with Skull or Torch, that’s not who we are—or ever will be. Just the same, it can be a solid one built on mutual respect.”
“Your father wouldn’t want you cutting ties with the Blaze, Twinkle Toes, you know that,” Skull says softly, delivering the fucking truth gently but with the force of a sledgehammer.
He’s right. Skull’sabsolutelyright. My father loved the club. He hung out there often. I know something else, though, that Skull doesn’t.
“He would hate it. If he knew what that asshole said and did, though, he would support me,” I grumble out my truth.
“He’s come here to apologize,” King points out.
“Some things you can’t take back and you can’t apologize for and make better. It’s just there and can’t be erased,” I murmur.
“Beau …”
That sad almost guttural use of my name comes from Torch and damn it all, I forgot. I forgot to hide behind my walls of indifference. I forgot to be a bitch. I push all thoughts away. I shake my head no at Torch and make sure my barriers are back in place. Once I’m sure I’ve achieved that, I turn my attention to King, avoiding looking at Torch or Skull—trying desperately to get my shit together.
“I’m booked solid for the next two months with the Kings of Anarchy.”
“Kings of Anarchy?” Skull repeats. “Which chapter?”
“Tennessee.”
“I thought they disbanded,” King mutters.
“Came close. Their new president, Grifter, came in and took over. He seems to be doing good things with the club.”
“You like him?”
“I don’t do work for people I don’t—which is part of our issue,” I respond.
“What do you need from us?” I look at the three men in front of me. “I want us to get past this. You’ve always been tight with the club. I want to make sure that continues,” he adds—and I really wish he hadn’t.
“King—”
“Seriously, Beau. I need this to work out. There’s a lot riding on it. I’ve checked around. You’re the best. Some may come close to you, but they arenotyou. Still, I could ship it out to Prime. He does good work. His name is recognizable and it’s solid. We’d survive.”
“Why don’t you do that, then?” I ask, recognizing the name. I know Prime. He’s an asshole to me. He doesn’t like competition—especially if that competition has surpassed him. So, I don’t like him because he enjoys putting my work down. Still, King is right. Prime would be their next best option. That leaves me wondering why he’s bothering with me at all.
“Truthfully?” King questions.
“I’m a straight shooter. I will always tell you like it is. I respect men who do the same.”
King nods. “There are two reasons. The first is the overhead it would cost us in shipping for transporting projects to Vegas. The amount would cut into our rebuilding. Every bit we can save means a hell of a lot.”
“Okay,” I answer, knowing that what he is saying is true. Still, with Prime’s name on the project, they would make a profit either way, despite shipping costs.
“The biggest reason though, is that I’ve met with Prime twice. The first time, I didn’t like him, because he felt the need to try and prove his dick was the biggest in the room.”
I roll my lips to contain the smile and laugh that threatens to escape. That’s definitely Prime. He’s an ass—apparently even to prospective clients. If he wasn’t great at painting, I’d be surprised he was still in business.
“I can’t disagree with that.”
