Celt grinned, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Aye, cousin. We’ll be perfect angels fer ya.”
“Celt,” Storm warned.
Celt shot Storm a quick glance. “Calm the feck down, cousin.” Handing Storm a beer, he joked, “We’ve been drinkin’ and gettin’ shite done fer years.”
After his first beer of the day, Storm did manage to relax a bit. I knew this was the place where he touched base with other club presidents from across the state, some he hadn’t seen for a long time. They made alliances, carved territory, and settled simmering disputes. So, yeah this was an important time for him and our club. I wasn’t about to do anything stupid to get in the way of that.
“I’m gonna check in with Slim’s officers,” Storm said. “Pay respect, make sure there is nothing Pacific Steel MC needs from us. I want you with me, cousin.”
“Copy that,” Celt mumbled before downing the last of his beer.
We ate, walked, and took in the sights, even as Storm and Celt disappeared. I noticed other brothers from our club were milling about. Grit, Razer, and Teeny were circled around an impromptu wrestling match between a Sons of Rage brother and someone whose cut I didn’t recognize. We drifted over to the stage and watched the live rock band for a bit. Pacific Steel did a righteous job of putting together this rally. Bikes and tents were strung all down the runway tarmac. It was a fuckin’ glorious sight to see.
We saw Hash and Bones up ahead, waving for us to join them at the main bar setup. By now it was just me, Renegade, Teeny, and Razer. Halfway there the crowd shifted sideways, alerting me that something interesting was going on in that direction. The intercom crackled and then a booming voice said, “Gather around for the auction of a lifetime.”
Glancing at my club brothers, I raised my voice to be heard over the excited chatter.
“I ain’t never heard of a PATCH auction but that don’t mean there ain’t any.”
Razer gestured for Hash and Bones to join us before saying, “I’ve been comin’ here for years and we ain’t auctioned shit in all that time. This is something new.”
I began shuffling my feet in that direction. “We’d best check it out. It could be cool PATCH merch.”
Renegade sucked in a deep breath. “I see something on the stage and it ain’t merch.”
Renegade was the tallest fucker I’d ever seen, so he could see things the rest of us couldn’t. “Whatcha seein’, bro?”
“It’s a woman and she looks scared. Along with what looks like a slimy fucker in a cut with a microphone.”
“The fuck?” I muttered. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”
Teeny spoke up, “I’m pretty fuckin’ sure they’re not allowed to do shady shit like that here. I’m gonna go get Storm and the Pacific Steel club president.”
Before any of us could respond, he spun on his heel and took off running, pushing his way through the quickly gathering crowd.
We moved forward with the crowd as I tried to catch a glimpse of what Renegade was seeing. Bones and Hash finally caught up with us.
“Who the hell are they?” I asked.
Bones was the one to answer. “It’s a new club. They call themselves Stolen Oath MC. I’ve seen them before but didn’t know they were into this kind of shit. Ran into the asshole with the microphone once at a gas station. Calls himself, Viper.”
By the time we pushed our way to the front of the crowd, Storm, Celt, Thunder, and a handful of other club brothers were there. They had a heavyset man with them wearing a Pacific Steel cut with a president’s patch. This was the guy Storm went to talk to, Slim.
Slim growled, “What the fuck is it with first timers always doin’ unpredictable, out of pocket shit?”
The Stolen Oath club president just grinned. “I told ya I was bringing a little surprise. And now you know that I always keep my fuckin’ word.”
Slim folded his arms over his chest. “I thought you meant you were bringin’ a shiny fuckin’ red apple to shove into the pig’s mouth at the pig roast or something mundane like that.” Gesturing to the terrified woman, Slim insisted, “This is a fuckin’ no-go. You are not auctioning off a woman at my damn rally, shithead.”
Pointing to the patch on his cut, he said, “My name is Viper. You’d best show some respect and use it.”
“Well, excuse the everlovin’ fuck outta me, Viper. Now get off the damn stage with this shit before I throw you out of the rally.”
“You’ve got no grounds to throw me out or to forbid me from auctioning off my own property,” the young club president shot back.
“I know some clubs traffic women. Pacific Steel ain’t one of them.”
Viper flicked on the microphone again. “You’re telling me I can’t auction off my own damn property? Then you should have put that in your list of rules. Your invitation said that outside of the list of attached rules anything goes. Your rules said no drugs except weed. No killin’ each other. No fightin’ dirty enough to put someone in the hospital. You had four dozen rules and not one of them said anything related to auctioning personal property. That means I can sure as fuck auction off my pretty little virgin.” His voice reverberated through the crowd.
