Page 150 of Cook

Celt gave a shake of his head. Something silent passed between him and Wilde. I let them have their exchange because I didn’t want the decision. I had never been interested in climbing any club ladders. I just wanted the brotherhood part when I had the patches made.

“You’re sure you don’t want it?” Wilde asked Celt.

“Absolutely,” said Celt, crossing his arms over his chest. “Give it to Angel.”

“Good deal,” said Wilde. “Angel, you’ll be VP here. Sas,”

“Yeah, Prez?” the big guy said from his spot near the door.

“VP in LA?” Wilde asked, but I had a feeling it wasn’t much of a question.

Sas stood from where he was leaning against the wall, surprise written all over his ugly mug. “You got it.”

That much was settled, but it wasn’t enough.

I was no VP—didn’t want it—but if we were forming a new and larger club, there would be more than a few open positions. The days ofCelt and me and a few guys defending the Ridge were over.

With eyes on me, Wilde said, “You would make a good secretary.”

“Fuck that,” I muttered. “I’m not taking meeting notes and shit. I’m the goddamn enforcer.”

“Fine,” said Wilde, annoyed, but Bou grinned.

We were on a roll now.

Wilde continued, “Warden will be the CIO or whatever. Tech guy. Both here and in LA.”

The man nodded. “Done.”

“Beans?”

“Yeah, Prez?”

“Treasurer for both.”

“Bank on it,” said the man wearing a bow tie. It was the first time I met him, and he gave me the shivers. Something about a nerdy, tatted, muscle-bound guy didn’t jive.

Wilde kept up the litany. “Teller, road captain LA. Graff, tail guard LA. Any recs for the LA enforcer?”

“Jackyl,” offered Sas.

“Oh, yeah.” Wilde scanned the room. “Where is that fucker, anyway?”

“Had to go see his grams in San Fran,” Sas answered.

Wilde seemed to get that. I didn’t, but I also didn’t care much about anything but getting through this meeting and getting back to Maddie.

Prez rattled the names off like everyone knew who they were. I had probably met them once or twice, but when punting names around, I couldn’t keep it all straight to remember them.

“Who do you think for PR?” Wilde finally asked.

“Hammer for road captain,” answered Celt. “Coyote, tail guard.”

“Good choices.” Wilde cracked his knuckles. “Now the hard part. What position for Parisi’s brother and the other dealio?”

“Make the Parisi brother the pencil pusher,” I offered.

Wilde mused. “Secretary. It meets Massimo’s ‘officer’ requirement. Done. What about...?”

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