Wolf pursed his lips, seeming to consider it. “No one’s been to a rally in a long time. We’ve never held one before either.”
Cam let out a long breath. “It’s a lot of work to put one together,” he admitted.
“It wouldn’t have to be big like Sturgis,” Wolf put in. “Just local folks helping local folks. Might be a good way to let everyone know about the vandalism and to keep vigilant.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Quillon added. “Tracie is good at organizing shit. She can help Specs get that together. The question is when?”
Cam put the pen in his hand down on the table. “A community rally sounds cool, but if we’re gonna do it, we need to do it quick. The weather’s getting colder, and it’s unpredictable.”
Wolf put his elbows on the table and dangled the gavel in his hands. “Since we’re talking just local people, let’s say two weeks on Saturday. Would that work? I’ll ask Jazz to pitch in for the graphics and advertising. She knows more about social media than I do.”
Melter rubbed an open palm over his face. “Shit, it’s fucking hot in here. Hey, Specs, go in the back and turn the heat off, yeah? Fucking weather can’t tell if it’s still summer or fall.”
The smaller man nodded and scampered to the rear of the building as Melter continued his tirade. “Yo, how does a fucking rally help with the fucking attacks?”
Cam noted the biker’s shaking hand but kept his mouth shut. He’d seen withdrawal before. Everyone in the club knew about Melter’s pot habit. The question was what else the biker might be using. He put aside that speculation, as it was none of his business and there were other priorities at the moment. “We should think again about patrols. We can’t cover everything, but riding at night in pairs might help. If it stops just one hit, it’s worth the gas money.”
Baghouse gave another irritated huff. “How the hell is a random ride gonna help?”
“Not random,” Quillon said with a serious air. “Every one of those businesses is a place we go to. I go to the coffee shop almost every morning. So does Tracie. We all use Clauson’s store, and several of us at the machine shop have Garfield repair our work boots. This is targeted.”
Baghouse wouldn’t let it go. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Am I? I hope so. All’s I’m saying is, if we put the places we’re associated with on some sort of route, we might catch these assholes faster.”
Wolf set the gavel on the table and leaned back. “At least it’s a plan. Worst-case, it doesn’t work.” He shifted uncomfortably. The padded chairs were reserved for Scrap and Baghouse. The rest were hard wood seats and weren’t made for long sitting times. “Quillon, make up a schedule, yeah?”
“You bet.”
“Anybody think the Slaggers MC might be back?” This came from Crossman. He seldom spoke in these meetings, but when he did, he usually had something worth hearing.
“I doubt it,” Cam replied. “Something would have buzzed down the grapevine by now if they were reforming.”
Wolf grunted. “Without Ramrod, they have no leader to pull them back together.”
Specs came back into the room and resumed his spot. “That’s not what I heard.”
All eyes rocketed to the newest member. The smaller man squirmed as the entire club waited to hear more. “Um… I just… like rumors about their colors being seen around again, ya know?” he spluttered. “I don’t know if it’s real or not. Just rumors.”
Wolf picked up the gavel again. “We’ll stick with our plan. Specs, since you had the rally idea, find us a place to hold it other than in front of the bar. We need a family vibe, not one that includes naked titties.”
Specs preened a little and did his quirky salute. “Aye-aye, captain!”
“Good.” Wolf raised the gavel and cracked it on the table. “Dismissed.”
“I think you’re supposed to say ‘adjourned.’”
Wolf rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Go do whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be doing at this hour.”
Cam picked up his cut but didn’t bother putting it on. The machine shop sat next door on the other side of Attic and extended to the corner, with a parking lot adjacent to the strip of buildings where both patrons and customers parked either during the day or night. There was a gravel spot just behind the machine shop that Sabrina’s rig would fit into nicely. He hoped like hell she would take him up on his offer and move to this side of the neighborhood. The spa was only about a ten-minute ride from here, but a lot of shit could happen in that time.
“Hold up a sec, Cam,” Wolf called out as he stood up and rubbed his ass. “Damn hard seats. I wanted to update you on Scrap. I went by his house this morning to check on him. His recovery isn’t goin’ well, even though he won’t say shit about it. Thought you’d want to know so you can tell your girl.”
Cam didn’t have to guess who Wolf referred to. “Yeah, I’ll let her know.” He paused. “Think that old goat will ever take the DNA test and give Sabrina the answer she needs?”
Wolf sighed. “Both of them need those answers, so I hope he does. I’ll talk to him about it when I deliver the news about the rally idea.” He gave Cam a speculative look. “What happens next? If Scrap isn’t her father, is she gonna pull up stakes and go somewhere else? If heisher father, will she put down roots?”
Cam shook his head. “I have no idea. This living-in-limbo shit would drive me crazy.”
