Bigfoot shakes his head. “He’s already forewarned. Needed to update him on our own run-ins with the cartel. We’re in the same fuckin’ boat, Brother.”
“Up shit creek with no paddle.” Freak’s apt summation breaks the tension and makes us all laugh.
Unusually, it’s Words who’s next to speak up. “All bodies will be ash in the next couple of days. Have to stagger them out and put a couple in with each bona fide body. Can’t have the chimney belting out smoke at all hours. That would get people asking questions. But soon, there’ll be nothing left of them to be found.”
Jester raises his hand. “I’ve pressure-washed all the blood away. But can’t do much about fixing the clubhouse…”
Paint scowls. “Few panes of glass, fix the door, and we can patch this place up fast.” As various pairs of incredulous eyes go toward him, he shrugs. “Who’s to know whether it was always a pigsty or not?”
“Man’s got a point.” Baffle raises his chin in his direction.
“And the fire in the bunkhouse could have been one of…” Winchester pauses, then corrects himself. “Our prospect smoking.”
“Heathen got family?” Bullseye asks Piston, who shakes his head in response. “He was just a kid who aged out of the system, and landed with us as he’d nowhere to go.”
“Any problem keeping his body under wraps in the mortuary for now?”
Words, the man whom Bullseye’s focus has now settled on, shakes his head. “What you thinking, Prez?”
“Man deserves a good send-off, but having it too soon would be another admission something went down, and give the fuckers who ordered the hit something to crow about. If we wait a few weeks, we can come up with another reason. No one would question a fatal accident on his bike.”
I slap my hand on the table. Bullseye’s suggestion sounds sensible. And mine’s not the only positive reaction around the table.
“We’ll be back for his funeral.” Bigfoot glances at each of his men in turn and receives chin lifts from all of them. “He died a true King, fighting to the end to protect his brothers.”
There’s a thumping of fists over hearts from all around the table, solidarity with the fallen man who paid the ultimate price for being part of the club.
“Right,” Bigfoot speaks, pushing his chair back from the table. “You’ve got your own business to discuss, and we need to hit the road.” He gives a wry smile, “And don’t bother thanking us again, we’ll take it as a given, and know you’d return the favour if we require an assist.”
“You better believe it,” or words to that end, come from me and all of my brothers.
“We’ll adjourn church, see our brothers off. Then reconvene in half an hour,” Prez decides.
“Oh, one last thing,” Baffle speaks before he stands. “Just an idea, I know none of you, nor any of our club, work in construction, but why don’t you put a call out to other chapters? You need a new bunkhouse fast, and they might have the skills that could help you do the job faster.”
It’s a good suggestion, as Prez tells him.
Chairs scrape across the wooden floor as everyone gets up, either to get on the road or to give a send-off to those leaving.
A hand lands on my shoulder as I enter the hallway. Turning, I see it’s Dime. “What’s this I hear about you having a son, Short? Might not know too much about it, but don’t kids take like, nine months to bake? It’s not been that long since I saw you last.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “He’s eight years old, came along with my ol’ lady. So, I’ve adopted him.”
Dime rolls his eyes. “Sounds like a whole load of unnecessary trouble.”
He doesn’t know the half of it, but I answer him honestly, “I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
And as luck would have it, when I enter the clubroom, Trip rushes over to me with what’s becoming his normal greeting. “Dada!”
I take the opportunity to introduce him. “This is my kid, Trip.”
Dime grins. “Hi, Trip.” When he gets no response, he widens his eyes, mouthing something like,rather you than me.
“Are we leaving or not?” Smooth shouts loudly, clearly eager to get his crew on the road. “Everyone gone to the heads, as I ain’t stopping once we get on the road?”
“Yeah, yeah, Mom.” Grease body checks him as he goes out the door. “Had a shit too.”
“Jester, get your ass over here,” Baffle yells, rolling his eyes at the cleaner who has Heaven hanging on to him, apparently promising they’ll get together when he comes back in a few weeks.
