We spend the next couple of hours in the gym, taking turns to spot one another. Our chat remains light for the rest of the session and thankfully doesn’t venture back around to the chick.
By the time we make it back to the clubhouse, Brick is leaning on the wall outside having a smoke.
“Yo. I was just about to message you both. Juggler and Knuckles called Church.”
I give him a nod while Nitro just gives him a chin lift and walks past us both before heading inside.
“Any idea why they’ve called it?” I ask pausing in front of him, my arms folded over my chest.
“No idea. Knuckles took a call then he and Juggler headed into his office. They were in there an hour before coming out and calling us in.”
“Get rid of the death stick and let's go.” He throws his half-finished cigarette on the ground and follows me through the door.
By the time we make it into church, we’re the last in the room, and with so many of us here it’s standing room only. I take my place at one end of the table to the left of my Prez while Brick pulls up his right.
I look around the room. Juggler sits at the head of the table, his VP, Razor, sits to his right, and Griff, his SAA, to his left. My soon-to-be Prez Nitro sits on the side closest to the door. His SAA, who also happens to be standing in as his VP Jolly sits to his right.
In a little over one week, that title will be mine.
It doesn’t feel right to walk into that role, not having been at the London clubhouse. But I was asked if I would transfer over. I’d said yes not realising that it had been brought to the table already about me becoming their VP permanently.
I know the men there, I know who they have in that chapter, and I’ve worked with each and every one of them at some point.I’ve stayed in London, they’ve stayed in Manchester. Hell, we’ve all fought side by side.
But for them to lay complete trust in me when they haven’t seen how I operate is a little unnerving.
I’m honoured, fuck me am I honoured. I just hope I don’t fail.
The sound of the gavel hitting the table pulls me from my thoughts.
“Gentlemen. Red called a little while ago, Mad Dog didn’t make it. He died this morning.”
The mood in the room becomes sombre. We’d been up in Glasgow helping them fight a turf war with some new fucking club, that wants to lay claim each of our cities. We ran them out of Glasgow, but there were casualties. We knew there would be, it was unavoidable. They lost a prospect before we got there and another in the battle. They also lost their Road Captain Hippy, their Enforcer Mad Dog was badly hurt in the fight, but he was stable when we left. To hear now that he didn’t make it fucking kills me.
“Brothers.” Juggler looks around the room, his eyes taking in each one of us. “They will hold the funerals next week. They’d like as many of us to be there as possible.”
‘Fuck yeah’s and ayes’ reverberate around the room.
We all want to be there. We’ll practically empty our clubhouse to be there.
Knuckles clears his throat, getting the attention of the room. “The funerals will be paid for by the club. Juggler and I have already set up an account for his wife and kid. If anyone would like to add to it, then let Bank know. He’s going to manage it for them until they need it.”
Bank is Newcastle’s money man. Gaining the name bank because of how fucking good he is with money.
I turn to him, catching his eye and giving him the nod to let him know I want to put in. Movement from around the room lets me know that I’m not alone.
“For those of us that knew him, you’ll know he won’t want us to wallow. He’d want us to fucking celebrate him. He’d want us to drink in his honour. So tonight brothers, we’re gonna do just that. I say we call it here and then head to the bar and get fucked.”
There’s several seconds of solid noise as we bang our hands on the table and stamp our feet on the floor in support of our fallen brother.
A minute later we all file out, the mood quiet, none of us speak.
Some of the brothers’ head to the bar, the prospect lining up beers ready for them. The rest of us either head outside for a smoke or up to our rooms.
Each of us needing to deal with the news in our way.
Chapter
Twelve
