Chapter Fourteen:
present
Jesse
The West Side Bangers clubhouse was lit up like the fucking Fourth of July when we pulled up outside.
The music was obnoxiously loud, and bikes were riding up and down the street outside with bikers and women standing around drinking beer from bottles and generally not giving a shit what kind of noise they made. Their clubhouse was in downtown Atlanta, in a real shitty neighborhood, to say the least, but at least their neighbors knew to keep their noses out of other people’s business, and by the looks of things they weren’t the sort to call the cops at every small opportunity. Good to know.
The party was in full swing as we parked our bikes in a long row next to the other thirty that were already there and duck-walked them into position. We eyed the prospects in charge of guarding them as we walked by, giving them a small nod. Women were huddled in groups, giggling and jutting out their chests as we passed through the main doorway, their long-nailed fingers grazing my bare arms as they rubbed against us like cats in heat.
“Hey,” a little blond thing said as we walked inside and I looked her up and down, noting her tiny waist and even tinier shorts barely covering her pert little ass.
“Hey,” I replied, walking away. Sure as shit had enough women drama for one day.
Beefcake stood up and walked toward us and pulled me in for a hug, patting me on the back before pulling back to look at me, a wide smile on his fat face. Beefcake was a big man in both height and weight, easily passing six feet and two hundred and fifty pounds of pure flab. His hair was long and dark and always pulled back into a long braid down his back. But the fat fucker never had a problem getting a woman on his arm.
“Welcome, Jesse.” He nodded to my brothers. “Make yourselves at home, brothers,mi casa es su casa.”
I nodded to my brothers, setting them free to party for a couple of hours while I dealt with the shit that had just gone down. Dom eyed me warily before nodding and heading to one of the kegs to grab himself a beer. Man just seemed worn out those days—never smiled, never laughed, just constantly brooded about life and the universe or some shit. And though he was still a part of the club, he’d taken a step back from most dealings. I was lucky that he’d even come tonight.
Casa stayed behind with me, and I was grateful for his presence.
“Let’s talk,” Beefcake said, and put his hand on my arm and started guiding us across the room.
He led us through the center of the party, passing bikers and bitches who all turned to stare at us.
Beefcake waved them all off with a wave of his fat hand. “Don’t mind them. Think they’re still in shock from everything and wanting to pay their respects at some point. Told them to give you time to settle in before they spoke to you about it all.” He pushed open the door to his office and we stepped inside
“Appreciate that,” I replied.
“No problem.” He pulled out a chair behind his desk and sat down, gesturing for me and Casa to sit opposite. “So what’s this shit going down in my charter you were talking about?” He steepled his fingers together and waited for me to speak, and I glanced across at Casa before replying.
“You ever heard of the Razorbacks MC?” I asked, feeling him out for information first.
His look turned serious. “Heard whispers about them—nothing set in stone, though. They seem more like ghosts than anything else. No one has seen them or spoken to them, but we’ve seen their tags. Why? What’s going on, Jesse?”
“There was a business meeting tonight, seems that the Highwaymen weren’t invited.” I watched Beefcake’s face to see if he looked surprised or not by that. He did, which was good for him and his club. “In fact, there were orders to keep us out completely. And we got given this,” I said, fishing the note out of my pocket and handing it to Beefcake.
He took it and opened it up, reading it quickly before placing it down on the desk in front of him. If his look had been serious before, it was nothing compared to now. Beefcake stood up and walked to the door before opening it and calling outside for Bridge, his VP.
A few moments later Bridge came in and the door was shut again. Beefcake went and sat back down and Bridge stood next to him, looking expectantly at his pres.
“Looks like the Highwaymen are going to war,” Beefcake said, looking across at us and nodding before looking back to Bridge. “Club called the Razorbacks are trying to cut them out of their own business. Shit won’t stand when Hardy finds out, that’s for damn sure. Need to make sure it’s clear what side the Bangers are on.” Beefcake looked over to me and nodded respectfully. “We clear?” he asked.
“Crystal,” I replied. “You should know, though, the Reverend was there tonight.”
Bridge stepped forward. “Seriously?”
“Serious as a fucking judge on a murder rap, brother,” Casa replied. “Heard he was looking to retire to the Bahamas or some shit like that. Never thought he’d betray his brothers, though.”
“That change anything for you?” I asked Beefcake.
He looked up at Bridge and they exchanged a look which I took to mean that it did, but Beefcake surprised me by looking back at me. “Not a damn thing. Two things I can’t stand are disloyalty and assholes who think they’re above everyone else. Looks like the Rev just crossed both those lines. The Bangers have the Highwaymen’s back, brother, no problem on that front.”
“Appreciate that,” I replied.
Beefcake stood up and came around the desk, and both Casa and I stood up too. I reached out my hand and Beefcake took it before pulling me into a manly hug and slapping my back. When he pulled back, his expression had softened from serious to sympathetic.
