Page 8 of Loving Smoke

Ok, so if the kid wanted a lesson, I guess I was the one to school him.

I turned my back to him. “The insignia in the back are my colors and those patches are called rockers.” I pulled at my cut. “And this isn’t a vest, it’s a cut.”

“So, how do I become one of these prospects?”

“You gotta prove yourself worthy of wearing the colors by doing jobs for the club.”

Ricky motioned to the workers around the bar. “I think I’ve already proved myself. I bring you my family and friends to work for you, and clean up. They are all doing jobs for your club.”

The kid had a point, but . . .

“If there’s something else you need me to do, I’ll do it. I see the way you and Blood act together. Like you have a common bond, a friendship.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Blood is my club brother and I’d give my life for the fucker.”

“That’s what I want. To be a part of something.” Ricky paused. “Here in Mexico and especially Tijuana there’s much crime and unfairness. You either work for the cartel and the criminals or you starve. My father is old school and he refuses to live the life of a bandito. So most times my family does without.”

All I had to do was walk a few blocks off the main street to see the poverty and the way most of the people were forced to live. I’d never been one to look too deeply into things figuring life was fuckin’ hard and sometimes less hard, but the shit I’d seen in only a few weeks wasn’t right.

“If you’re really serious about patching in I’ll talk it over with Blood.”

“Yes, I would like that.” Ricky pushed away from the table a big grin on his face.

What the hell, I needed more than just Blood down here, and Jameson had said to start up a new crew. I had some contacts out with one of the American guys who fought at the cage fights down here, but having a local might have its own benefits. Especially since Ricky was young and seemed eager to learn the business and the club.

Of course, this time I wouldn’t fall into any traps. I’d have him thoroughly vetted by a computer geek we used in San Diego. What I should’ve done three months ago when Crank brought in the prospect/DEA agent. A little too late to be worrying about that shit but it still dug at me. One of my brothers betraying me and the club was one thing, but the fact I never saw it coming gave me a pain deep in my gut. Well, what was the old saying—fool me twice shame on me—yeah, no fuckin’ way I’d let that happen again.

Blood ambled over and joined me. He’d been interviewing bouncers all afternoon and he didn’t look happy.

“What’s up your ass?” I knocked a cig out of the pack on the table and lit up.

“I’m trying to hire guys who know their shit, but they’re more interested in busting heads and dragging people out to the back alley.” Blood massaged the back of his neck. “Back home I’d call an agency and they’d send over some qualified guys. Here it’s way different. The last guy is showing me all the weapons he carries and how he knows how to use them all. Fuckin’ ridiculous. I’m all about kicking ass, but not in plain sight and not with a shit load of illegal weapons that could get us shut down before we even open.”

“It’s pretty crazy. It’s like the rules we’re used to in the States don’t apply here.”

Blood leaned back in the chair, his eyes surveying the new stage with multiple poles so more than one girl could dance at a time, and the addition of new tables and chairs that weren’t splintered and rickety. Along with polished wood flooring and the raised section where we sat now.

“Hard to believe this is the same place.” Blood shoved a stack of postcards toward me advertising the opening.

I fanned through them noting the advertising of new dancers, and a whole new atmosphere, plus a free first drink when you presented the card to the bartender.

“Not bad. Should bring people in especially when they realize they won’t contract a disease from getting too close to the dancers or drinking the water.”

Blood huffed out a laugh. “I already made it clear the VIP rooms were for lap dances only. They wanna fuck the customers that’s on their own time in their own place. Not here. Cuts down on a lot of drama between the bitches and the customers, and less for us to worry about and clean up. Those old couches we threw out were fuckin’ disgusting.”

I jerked my chin toward Ricky on the other side of the room. “The kid was asking me all kinds of shit about the club.”

“Like what?”

“Like he wants to prospect. I had to explain to him what it meant, but he said he was interested. “

“No, shit.” Blood followed Ricky with his eyes. “He don’t mind working, that’s for sure.”

“I told him I’d talk to you, so maybe we’ll give him a shot.”

“Then we gotta do some prospecting for real. Can’t face Sandoval’s crew with just you and me and a prospect.”

It did surprise me Sandoval hadn’t already made an appearance since our renovations seemed to be the talk on the street. Ricky kept me and Blood hooked up with all the local gossip, but there had been no mention of Sandoval. Next week was our grand opening so maybe he was waiting until we were official.

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