Page 29 of Rigid

He exhaled heavily, and then shook his head. “You’re tough to take, Smoke. You pissed?”

I took a pull on my vape, and then grinned. “Nope.”

“Irritated?”

I tilted my head back, blew the smoke toward the ceiling, and then looked him in the eyes. “Nope.”

“You think I’m a prick?”

“Nope.” I grinned. “I know you’re a prick.”

“God damn it,” he snapped back.

“But I can live with it,” I said. “I signed on for this shit, and you were a prick on that day, so I knew what I was getting into. What’s up? Why the meeting?”

“Peeb’s here because Peeb’s always here. I wanted to talk to you about Tank.”

“The prospect? The Marine?”

“Yep.”

“Don’t know the kid. What about him?”

“Meathead got locked up over the weekend for a firearms charge. He was in LA over the weekend, got in a fight in a bar, and pulled a pistol on some prick in the parking lot. Someone called the cops, and must have given a pretty good description, because the feds picked him up this morning on a firearms violation. There’s no bond set, and it sounds like they’re going to railroad his ass. He’ll do a dime if he does a day.”

I wasn’t sure how Meat being in jail affected me, and as much as I didn’t want to hear Crip’s explanation, I felt compelled to ask anyway. “Sucks about Meat, he was good people. How do I fit into this, though?”

“Wantin’ you to take his prospect.”

I spit out a laugh. “Shit there for a second I thought you said you wanted me to take that prospect to raise.”

He didn’t so much as crack a smile. He simply raised his eyebrows and waited.

“I’ve got one kid, Crip.” I shook my head and chuckled another laugh. “Don’t need another.”

“I’m serious, Smoke. I need you to take this kid. Show him the ropes. He’s a good kid. He’ll make a good patch.”

“I ain’t even been here two years. And, I didn’t vouch for that prick, Meat did. Peeb’s been here for what? Ten years? Give him to Peeb.”

“You’ll make a better mentor,” he said. “You never ride drunk, you don’t take any shit, and you’re not afraid to stand your ground. You’ve got a sixth sense when it comes to threats, and that’s not something anyone else in this club has. Short of me, that is. You’re rigid in your beliefs, Smokey. And, as much as you might disagree, I respect you for it.”

“As a biker, in his beliefs, or in bed, there’s only one way for a man to be,” I said dryly. “Rigid.”

Crip gave a nod.

I looked at Pee Bee.

He raised his bottle of beer and gave me his signature smirk. “It’s only eight months.”

“Eight fucking months.” My eyes fell to the floor. “Jesus.”

“It’ll pass quick.”

I shifted my eyes to Crip. “What if I say no?”

“I’ll be disappointed. Kid might not make it. Then again, he might make it, and end up being a turd because Fat Larry or Buck takes him.”

“Give him to P-Nut.”