I want to bash their heads together, and then do the same thing to Rhino and Token.
But Bullseye, showing he can have the patience of a saint when it’s necessary, placates them. “Your ideas and the work you’ve done are sound. But it doesn’t hurt to have other eyes on them. I’d rather you try to get along with the Georgia guys, but if it doesn’t turn out, you can return to Big Daddy and explain how your feelings got hurt. We’re all fuckin’ Kings and should be able to work together.”
I think I can back up my prez. “They’ve had a long fuckin’ trip. Cut them some slack. They brought a brother called Blitz with them. He’s currently passed out in the clubhouse. Seems he doesn’t like flying, so they had to dope him up.”
Lunatic snorts out a laugh. “For real?”
“Truth.” I chuckle along with them. “Bronwyn’s got her eye on him now.”
Trip pulls at my hand. Looking down, I ask, “What do you want, little buddy?”
He points to the digger that’s just been turned off. Shading my eyes from the setting sun, I see it’s Freak who’s at the controls. “You want to go see it?”
Trip’s nod fills my heart. “Freak?” I shout and wave to get his attention. “Trip wants to see the digger. That alright?”
“Send him over,” Freak shouts back. And I do, while inwardly thinking it’s a dichotomy that the man I most trust with my son is our violent and threatening enforcer.
Still, my eyes track Trip’s path until he’s close to Freak, and I only relax when the enforcer swings him up and into the cab.
Rhino and Token choose that moment to reappear, and all at once, the tension is back.
“Plans are solid,” Rhino reluctantly states. Token leans over his shoulder, and his finger stabs at the paper he’s holding. “We just have a couple of suggestions. If you extend the footprint a little,” waving his hand over the diagram he shows where he’s talking about, “you can add a laundry room, maybe a basic kitchen, somewhere the brothers can make themselves snacks without having to enter the main building.”
Hardcore and Lunatic look at each other, then begrudgingly say, “We didn’t think of that. Makes sense.”
Rhino holds out his hand. “Apologise if you think we were overstepping, but we’ve been burned by so-called experts before. Can tell you know what you’re doing, Brothers.”
Hardcore glances at Lunatic, who gives a raise and dip of his head. He takes the offered hand. “Can understand that, Rhino. It’s going to be a pleasure to work with fellow professionals.”
Bullseye exchanges a grin with his VP, then he addresses the now-reconciled protagonists. “We’re losing the daylight. Sorry,” he raises his chin toward Lunatic and Hardcore, “but it’s going to be pizzas again. I’ve just texted the prospect to order a load in.”
“Food’s food.” Hardcore shrugs. “As long as it’s not got pineapple on it, I’ll eat anything.”
“Oh fuck.” Prez makes a show of getting out his phone, then barks a laugh. “You’re okay, ain’t ordered anything with fruit in it.”
Prez’s piercing whistle stops all brothers working, and they follow his hand signals, telling them it’s time to stop work for the day.
On returning to the clubhouse, I don’t immediately see Bron, but Ace is in the kitchen along with Trixie, and I’m happy enough to leave Trip with them. Then, when going to fulfil a normal bodily function, I come across the strangest thing – men queuing for the heads. Who would have believed it? But I suppose we’ve got nine extra bladders needing emptying, and some are even using the ladies’ restroom instead.
My turn taken, piss situation resolved, I enter the clubroom, and the first thing I notice is Blitz, now sitting upright, rubbing his temples. He’s studying the faces of people walking in. When he spies his travelling companions, he launches to his feet – then abruptly sinks back down as he’s moved too fast for his well-deserved spinning head.
The second time, he gets up more slowly. “You.” He points at Token. “You fuckin’ drugged me.”
“Yeah?” Again, Rhino speaks for his brother. “What else were we to do when you insisted you were going to open the doorwhile the plane was cruising at thirty-seven thousand fuckin’ feet?”
“I was looking for a parachute?—”
Rhino bursts out laughing. “Hate to break it to you, Brother, but commercial flights don’t carry parachutes. The only emergency equipment they have is life rafts.”
“Life rafts?” Blitz starts shouting. “What the fuck type of airline did you put me on? We were flying over fuckin’ land, for fuck’s sake. Knew those things were death traps.”
“If you’d opened the door, you’d have killed us all. And the other passengers.” Token, when he speaks, has a melodic voice, unlike the growling tone of his brother.
“Fuckin’ life rafts?” Rapidly shaking his head, Blitz seems fixed on that one thing. “That does it. I’m getting hold of a bike, and I’m fuckin’ riding home.”
“You afraid of flying?”
Blitz swings around to address the speaker, and probably to deliver a few choice words, were it not for Rhino’s overloud whisper, “That’s the Arizona prez.”
