“Aye,” Handful said immediately.
Two more brothers—Blackjack and Snake, younger members who’d always followed Handful’s lead—echoed with quiet ayes.
“All opposed?”
“Nay,” Glitch said firmly.
The responses came from around the table, one after another.
“Motion fails,” Colt said. “Twenty-five to three. Dutch retains presidency.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Twenty-five brothers had just voted to keep me. Three had voted me out. It could have been worse, but it also could have been unanimous.
I looked at Handful, then at Blackjack and Snake. “You three going to have a problem with this?”
Handful shook his head. “No problem, prez.”
Then the room erupted. Laughter—actual fucking laughter—rolling around the table like a wave. Brothers were grinning, some slapping the table, a few shaking their heads.
I stared at them, completely lost. “What the fuck?”
“It was staged, brother,” Glitch said, not even trying to hide his smile. “We needed to make sure your head was in the right place.”
“Staged?” I looked around the table, seeing the confirmation on every face. Even Colt looked amused.
Handful leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Look, Dutch, I don’t give a shit about Indira coming back one way oranother. I care about two things—money and tits. And thanks to you, I’ve got more of both than I’ve ever had.” He paused, his expression going serious. “But if you start fucking with either of those things? Maybe I’ll call a vote for real.”
The laughter died down.
“Fair enough,” I said finally.
“Anyone got anything else for church?” I asked, looking around the table.
Silence.
“Then we’re done. Dismissed.”
After they’d all left, I sat alone in the empty church room, thinking about what had just happened. They’d tested me. Pushed me to see how I’d handle the pressure, how I’d defend my choices when challenged.
And I’d fucking passed.
?
Almost four weeks later, Indira drove into Millfield in a U-Haul truck, followed by professional movers who helped her carry boxes into a two-bedroom apartment in the complex I’d recommended. I watched from the parking lot, staying far enough away that she wouldn’t feel pressured but close enough to help if she needed anything.
She didn’t ask for help. Handled everything herself with the efficient competence I’d always admired about her.
That evening, she called.
“I’m moved in. Mostly.”
“How does it feel to be back?”
“Strange. Familiar and foreign at the same time.” She paused. “I went by my old apartment. It’s still empty.”
“I’ve been paying the rent,” I admitted.
“Why?”
