Page 34 of Cutter

“Same here.” Barron spoke right after.

“Where are we in the game?” Cutter asked as he walked to the fridge beneath the bar’s countertop.

“Third quarter,” Blade replied. “Fucking commercials take forever.”

Cutter twisted the caps off three bottles, brought one to Blade, the other to Barron, and sat down to watch.

Except for the noise of commercials and, afterward, the animated conversation of sports announcers, there was no sound from the three men sipping their beers.

Ten long minutes passed.

“Okay. Let’s get into it.” Blade turned to sit and muted the game.

“But that’s your team. They’re still playing,” Cutter said.

“Nah. It’s basically over. Atlanta’s down by thirty points at the end of the third quarter, and this game doesn’t count. We’re in preseason. I know you’ve got stuff on your mind, and we have information you might find interesting, if not useful.”

Barron chuckled under his breath, but kept drinking his beer without comment.

“Great,” Cutter said. “Are you going to tell me, or do we play twenty questions?”

Blade turned to Barron. “You were there. Give him the details.”

Barron tipped his bottle for a long swig. “We’re going to a party tomorrow night.”

“What kind of a party?” Cutter asked.

“Apparently, the Sons of Chaos throw parties every so often,” Blade added. “Sounds like an excuse to get drunker than their usual.”

“Fine,” Cutter said. “Who’s we?”

“We are you, me, Johnny Gun,” Barron replied. “Not Blade. He already said no. Diesel was brokenhearted.”

“Such bullshit,” Blade growled. “The important detail is the reason for the party.”

“Yep.” Barron nodded. “The cartel guys Chema and Rulo are the honorees.”

“Is that right? Those two don’t seem the type to want attention,” Cutter murmured.

“You’re right about that,” Barron said. “When the Chaos president announced the party in the saloon, the Oquendo men weren’t happy. In fact, they told Diesel to shut up and forget it, but Diesel, who was rip-roaring drunk about that time, wouldn’t hear of it.”

Cutter rubbed his forehead. “Wait. How is this interesting to me? It’s only a party.”

“Couple of things,” Blade said. “Before I left, I was close enough to overhear JT and Rulo mention a delivery. Some kind of shipment is coming to the area soon.”

“And the second item will blow your mind,” Barron interrupted. “The Chaos are introducing two new prospects to the club. They’re none other than our old brethren Dash and Horse.”

“Say what?” Cutter exclaimed. “I thought they quit because they were relocating to the West Coast.”

“So did I.” Blade smirked. “We had words toward the end. Neither guy was happy with the direction I’d started taking with the club. It began with the troublesome prospect who nearly broke us apart. I’d had my fill of members suffering mob delusions. I was determined to eliminate the club’s one-percenter reputation and rejoin the AMA.”

“I’m all for rejoining the AMA.” Cutter finished his beer. “But is this thing with Dash and Horse going to be an issue? I’ve never heard of members changing their allegiance to join another club in the same area.”

“Those two can go fuck themselves,” Blade snapped. “They have my blessing to join the Chaos.”

“Dash and Horse, but especially Dash, bitched morning and night about the good old days,” Barron said. “When theSpawn smuggled cigarettes across state lines and fenced stolen electronics. The Chaos offer that and more.”

“Fuck, way more,” Blade said. “The old shenanigans were piddly shit compared to what the Oquendo cartel brings to the table. We’re talking heavy drugs, guns more than likely, and who knows what else.”

---