Especially their prez with a kid to support.
Even though Ky hadn’t mentioned scratch yet, Zeke figured that was coming soon. But even if she didn’t bring it up, his kid would want for fucking nothing.
“There’s always the women. None of them, ‘cept my sister, got any kinda fuckin’ record.” Chaos then added, “That I know of, anyway.”
True. Bri had a record but she was the only one Zeke knew of, unless they hid it. But Beck’s sister—along with Zane—ran the pawn shop like it was her own and she also got to live in the upstairs apartment rent-free. It was a goddamn win-win situation for both her and the club. The woman had some great business skills.
Zeke turned his attention to Cruz next, since he was the club treasurer. A dispensary wouldn’t happen at all if they couldn’t afford to open one. “Think we can swing it scratch-wise?”
Cruz sat back and scratched the back of his neck. “Thattype of business ain’t no joke. Gonna cost a shitload of scratch before we’re even making a fucking dime.Ifthe state even approves our application.”
Zeke didn’t like the sound of that. “What kinda scratch we talkin’?”
“The application fee’s five fucking grand and, worse, it’s non-fucking-refundable. So we gotta make sure we got every fuckingTcrossed andIdotted before applying cause that’ll be a helluva hit.”
“Fuck,” just about everyone at the table groaned at the same time.
“That ain’t the worst of it. Permit fee’s thirty big ones.”
Zeke just about choked. “Thirty? What the actual fuck?”
“Yeah. And that’s just the state fees,” Cruz said. “We ain’t even talking the cost of the building, the inventory, employees, and all the rest. At least the thirty K’s refundable.”
“Well, thank fuck for that,” Zeke muttered.
“Also need to prove we have one-hundred-fifty large in capital,” Cruz finished.
“Sounds like the easiest shit on the list,” Zane said.
The club owned plenty of buildings and property. Not to mention the whole damn DAMC old folks village. The OGs owned their own houses, but the club owned the land under them to keep it a restricted neighborhood. Like one of those pain-in-the-ass homeowners associations but biker style.
Not just anyone could live behind those gates and walls. For obvious reasons.
“Depends,” Cruz said. “Agree with Lily about starting an LLC. And it’ll be smart to put it under one of the women’s names. The state ain’t gonna approve shit if it’s directly tied to the club.”
“A new LLC ain’t gonna have that much in capital,” Zane mentioned.
“It could,” Cruz countered. “Just have to transfer a business over.”
“What business?”
All eyes turned to Zeke at the head of the table. He considered everything Cruz and Zane just laid out. He hated that they might have to leave it in one of the women’s hands, but it might be the only choice.
Otherwise, they had to come up with another idea. And he really fucking liked the idea of a dispensary. Once the state legalized pot for recreational use, they’d already have their fucking boots in the door.
“Which club sister do we trust the most?” Zeke asked the table.
“If we’re talkin’ ‘bout the women we grew up with, then all of ‘em,” Zane answered. “Can’t trust any outsiders to not screw over the club.”
At least he and his brother agreed on that. The rest of the officers at that table probably did, too.
“Know it ain’t gonna be Vi, Indie, or Scarlet since they gotta keep on the down low,” Rage said.
Wheels added, “Scarlet’s outta pocket, anyway.”
Vi’s youngest sister was still in the Army National Guard and would be for a while, but then, she had been determined to become a Guard Green Beret and, damn if she didn’t manage to pull it the fuck off.
Zeke had no problem admitting all three of Diesel’s daughters were badasses, but then they grew up and trained with the baddest badasses of all time: the original Shadows.
