Page 36 of Emergence: Prequel

Coal took a deep breath and settled back in his chair. “Apologies, Pres,” he muttered. “To answer your first question, am I happy? I’m not unhappy, but I’m also aware that I won’t go any furtherthan just being a member unless I join another chapter, and honestly, I don’t want to.

“My family lives here, I grew up here. And yes, even when you piss me off, I know that you’re a good president and have all our best interests at heart. So, for now, I’m happy here.

“To your second question, would I ever want to be president of my own chapter? I can’t lie, I’ve thought of it often, but as I’ve said, that would mean leaving my family, and I’m not sure I could do that. I’m the eldest; I’ve always looked after my younger siblings, and I’m not sure I’d be able to not look out for them.

“I mean, I’m still pulling Bolt out of situations on a regular basis. So yes, while I’d love to be president of a club, I doubt it will ever happen because I can’t leave my blood brothers behind, and I know if you had to ask them, they’d say the same thing. Sorry to say, Pres, you are stuck with us Tins for the foreseeable future.”

Maestro nodded his acceptance of Coal’s apology, asking, “What would you say if I said there was a way for you to have it all, your brothers and your own chapter?”

Coal rubbed his hands over his face before he stood up and paced from one side of the office to the other. Finally stopping, arms folded over his chest, legs apart. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve really looked at my son, and I’m shocked to see the man standing in front of me. When the fuck did my boys grow up?

“Explain what you mean,” Coal demanded.

Maestro moved from around the desk to stand in front of me, mirroring Coal in stance, arms crossed, except he leaned against the desk, legs crossed, body relaxed. Me, I sit back and watch.

“So, here’s the thing. Your dad, mom, and sister are leaving to move to the UK, Southampton to be exact,” Maestro lifts a brow as if to say, you with me so far?

Coal nods and waves his hand in a continue gesture. “What do you know about Southampton?” Maestro asks.

“It’s a city on the coast of Hampshire. Mom has a property about twenty minutes outside of the centre.”

“Correct, lots of ships in and out, including cruise ships and barges that sail around the world to and from that port.”

I see as soon as Coal gets it. “You want to open a chapter in Southampton.”

Maestro grinned, “Ding, ding, give the man a prize. I want to open a chapter in Southampton, and I want you to run it.”

Coal let out a breath, “Fuck,” he whispered, bending over, hand on his hips, another whispered, “Fuck.” I think it’s only then that both Maestro and I realise how much he’s wanted this but thought he’d never get the chance.

Maestro goes back around his desk and pulls out a bottle of whisky, along with the same glasses that Red always kept in his drawer. Pouring out three shots, he handed me one before taking one to Coal. Holding it to under his nose while he’s still bent over double.

“Cheers, brother,” Maestro said, slapping Coal on the shoulder as he stood up and clicked his glass against Maestro’s, and they shot down a drink.

“Thank you, Maestro, I won’t let you down,” Coal assured his president.

Maestro grinned at him, “I know you won’t because I’d hate to have to come and kick your ass.”

Huffing out a laugh, Coal sat back down next to me, and Maestro sat back in his chair, grinning madly at us.

“It’s going to be a good year,” he crowed, clapping his hands before getting serious.

“Right, this is the list I quickly drew up of the brothers that I think will be a good fit. Of course, we’ll take it to church and ask if anyone else wants to move, but for now, let’s bring these ones in and have a chat with them to see if they’re open to it. There is a reason for opening this chapter, and it does have to do with the port but probably not for the reasons you think. I can’t get into it until I know everyone is on board. While we won’t be a one-percenter MC, we aren’t going to be strictly legit either.”

Coal and I share a look but don’t say anything. The Ivor family has never set the Tins on the wrong path yet.

Maestro handed Coal the list and he looked at it. The two of them started talking and making plans. Coal pulled a chair closer to the desk, grabbed a pen and pad, and started making notes. I smiled with pride as I watched them, knowing that somewhere out there, Chains is watching this and laughing his head off.

He’d never understood that I didn’t want to be the president of a chapter. But as I once told him, I was happiest watching my family grow and not having the responsibility of being in charge. Did I earn less money? Yes, I did, but I was happier not having the stress. It’s not that I couldn’t have been a president; I’d have been a good one because failure wasn’t an option. I just didn’t have the need or the drive for it that Chains and Red had, the same drive I saw in Maestro and Coal. No, I was better in the background, helping and supporting.

Quietly, I got up from the chair and slipped out of the office, leaving them to their planning. They’d let us know when it was time to make a move. For now, I was in a hurry to get home toMaggie and let her know that it was likely all her chicks would be coming with us to the UK.

Climbing on my sled, I rode off down the road towards the gate and waited for the prospect to open it, driving through and out onto the road. Maggie and I had bought a fixer-upper when we’d first got married with what little money we had; over the years, we’d done it up and added on when we needed to as our brood grew. Maggie hadn’t cared about the size of the house except for the kitchen. She’d been more worried about the size of the garden and if she could grow vegetables in it. Our yard was abundant in all sorts of plants and foliage. We were never without fresh vegetables, and any excess she’d often send to the club or to the local soup kitchen.

The house was lit up from the inside, and I knew where I’d find Maggie: in her favourite room in the house and where we always seemed to end up.

Our kitchen really was the heart of our home. It had seen everything from scraped knees, blood from the boys fighting, to heartbreak and tears. The kitchen table had been where we’d sorted our differences. It was where the kids knew to come when they’d had a bad day or when one of their hearts had been broken. When we’d had to discuss behaviour and consequences, or when your youngest son came home and told you his high school girlfriend was pregnant, that’s where we made plans to help them out; it’s also where we sat and cried when that baby was lost. That table could tell you all sorts of stories if it could talk.

Parking my sled in the garage, I got off and secured the doors before walking into the house and taking my boots off in the mudroom, because if there was one thing Maggie did not allow in her house, it was dirty boots.

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