“She told you while you were bringin’ her home?”
“No. Brooks showed his miserable fucking ass up at her house while I was there convincing her to come to the clubhouse,” Diesel responded.
“Is it delay-this-goddamn-meetin-bad, shoot-the-fuck-outta-Brooks-bad, or it-can-hold-off-for-thirty-fuckin-minutes-bad?”
“It’s we need to fucking kill Charlotte bad,” Diesel said flatly. He didn’t even know about that bitch’s visit to Bash’s clubhouse.
“We also need to talk to Johnnie.”
Christopher scowled. “So it’s I need to fuck up that cunt myself if I got to willingly talk to Johnnie.”
Kendall walked to the podium and smiled, her mask firmly in place, but her eyes spoke volumes. Not only had she been crying, but whatever Charlotte said or did affected hermental state.
“I’m ready,” she said brightly.
Mort lifted a brow. “Red, you okay?”
“Fine.”
That one word was sharp, abrupt, and so unlike how she talked to Mortician.
“Kendall?” Johnnie asked, suddenly there too, right fucking next to Christopher. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
Her lower lip trembled.
“I’m so sorry,” Brooks sobbed. “Charlotte didn’t—”
“This isn’t the time or the place,” Kendall started briskly.
“It’s exactly the fucking time and place,” Bash began, his jingling spurs revealing that he was moving toward the podium.
“I’m here to oversee the peace agreement,” she said, sweeping them all with a glare. “I’m not here to reveal my business to motherfuckers who won’t give a fuck. Let’s get to the signing.”
“Only if you tell me what’s going on after,” Bash told her.
“Fine,” Kendall said.
Her answer appeased Bash, though Johnnie gasped.
“Kendall, my dear—”
“Shut the fuck up, Brooks,” Christopher said, “Cuz, see, I’m sick of that cunt you married to. She fuckin’ with Megan. Now, she fuckin’ with Kendall. Either Ima killyourmotherfuckin’ ass or that bitch.”
“You don’t even know what she said!”
Christopher stepped to the side of the podium and snatched Brooks to his feet by his fucking hair. “You want Diesel to fuckin’ scalp you cuz I told you to shut the fuck up.”
“And I told him to leave and address this tomorrow,” Diesel revealed.
Christopher shoved Brooks back onto the seat, not giving a fuck that he covered his face, bent over and sobbed. Neither did Kendall. She didn’t stop Brooks’s abuse or run to comfort that motherfucker.
“Here, Kendall.” Val held out a bottle. “Drink.”
“She don’t drinkMad Dog, Val,” Mort snapped, shoving Val’s hand away.
“It’s wine,” Val argued, their voices rising above Brooks’s wails. “She like that.”
“But notherfucking wine,” Johnnie snapped.
