Page 3 of Patching Over

Cries of ‘yeah’ and ‘here, here’ permeate the room, causing me to smirk. “Glad to see we’re almost at the end of it all,” Scythe states.

“We are and that’s why we’re meeting one last time as us because the next time we’re around this table, we’ll no longer be Roanoke Raiders prospecting for the Royal Bastards, we’ll be fully patched Royal Bastards. We’ll have a brotherhood that stretches across the States and even internationally. That’ll come in handy if some of the things Banshee and I have in motion come to pass.”

“How are we going to do the businesses?” Brew, our secretary, questions, all business now as he opens up his tablet to start taking notes.

“According to Jameson, there’s no reason to change the names, we just have to do some paperwork so that a percentage goes into the national kitty or something like that. Rainman, the two of you need to get with him as he said he’d bring the information with him.” We’re somewhat stereotypical when it comes to being an MC. We’ve got a tattoo parlor, an automotive and bike repair shop, and a bar. We also do a little loan sharkingfrom time to time, and will add transport assistance to several of the chapters once we’re officially patched over.

“Got it, Pres,” Rainman, our treasurer, replies while Brew nods.

“So, we’ve got all the extra rooms cleaned and ready for our guests?” I ask.

“The only thing left is to fill up their mini fridges with their preferred choice of drink,” Banshee advises. “I figure one of us can get that info as they arrive then have Rooster take care of it.”

“I’ll take care of it, Pres,” Rooster affirms from his position at the door. He’s our newest patched member, but not having any Prospects, he still helps from time to time. Since this upcoming party is important, I’d rather leave it in a brother’s hands. I’ve noticed ever since he returned from Texas, he’s been a little more watchful, a little more cautious. I know that shit happened when he ended up helping one of the Ankeny chapter members, Phoenix, with watching his old lady. It’s made him a better brother, that’s for sure, and I wonder if perhaps he needs a name change. The problem is, he’s got red hair and the pale, freckled skin that goes with it, so Rooster fits him to a tee.

“Any questions? I do know from talking with Jameson there are some brothers who will be here that have some unique abilities outside of the norm. With that being said, they’ll be our brothers through and through so regardless of what you may see, hear, or experience, you need to remember to have their backs, if necessary,” I advise.

“What kind of abilities?” Scythe inquires, a scowl on his face. As the club’s enforcer, he’s always looking for the enemy around every corner. His skill has saved our asses several times, so I’m fine with his question.

“Not one-hundred-percent sure. I know a few made a deal with the Devil which causes them to change as they reap the souls of the damned. A few others have visions or canmanipulate various elements,” I reply, glancing around the room to gauge my brothers’ reactions.

‘Well, that should liven things up around here, don’t you think?” Brew asks, grinning. “Speaking of livening things up, I’ve asked the club girls if they have any friends we’re unaware of that like to party. We’re going to have double our normal numbers at least with our guests and four of them won’t be able to handle all of us. Well, those who wish to partake, that is.”

“Works for me. I know most of the brothers coming have ol’ ladies at home, so it’s highly unlikely they’ll dabble in any strange pussy, they’ll likely just party, but we wanna be ready,” I reply. Not that I’m in the market for an ol’ lady, but if I had one, I wouldn’t settle for chopped steak when I had a nice filet waiting on me at home. However, I don’t judge what another man chooses to do with regard to his ol’ lady; that’s not my business unless it becomes a club issue.

“Think we’ll ever have any around here again?” Banshee questions. “Seems like it’s been forever since we had a brother who had an ol’ lady, all the really old-timers have either ridden off to their place in the afterlife, or retired and followed their kids.”

I’m pretty sure he’s including his own folks in that comment judging by the pain that briefly flickers across his face. He’s such a broody fucker at times, but with everything that happened to his family, it’s a miracle that he’s still among the land of the living. There was a time right after his folks died that I worried he’d off himself. Thankfully, my dad noticed it too and doubled down on making sure he knew he was an important part of our lives, and would be invaluable to the club once we were old enough to prospect and get patched in.

“Who the hell knows?” I retort. “I’m not personally looking, but I’m getting to that age where I’d like someone else to talk to besides y’all. And now that we’ve all grown pussies, anyone elsewanna get their feelings out in the open? We’ve got time to hold hands, give you shitty advice, and bash whoever has hurt you before our guests arrive,” I tease, causing the room to erupt in laughter and catcalls.

“Fucker,” Banshee mutters.

“You know it. Alright, since we know what we’ve got to do, let’s get to it. To answer the unspoken question, got no clue how things will happen. We just need to be prepared for any fucking thing.”

“Well, isn’t that peachy,” Brew grumbles. “Wish we had a way to make these not look so fucking new,” he states, running his hand down his Prospect cut.

The rest of the brothers look over to the wall where our old Roanoke Raiders cuts are encased behind glass. It was a hard day when we gave those up because they signified the end of an era in so many ways. My own cut was well-worn, soft as fucking butter, and spoke of the years, blood, sweat, and even a few tears shed that made it that way.

At the same time, the new cuts, while stiff and somewhat unmoving, show the future path that we’ll be on, only now we’ll have thousands of brothers behind us in our endeavors. “It was a good move to do this,” I remind the brothers. “We all took our time to think about the pros and cons then voted on it at this fucking table, remember?”

“No problems with the decision, Pres, just remarking that it’s going to take a while to break these in and mine was so fucking soft, y’know?” Brew states.

“They’ll get there, Brew,” Banshee replies. “I’m sure with some of the things Brick and I are working on to finalize once it’s all done and dusted, we’ll all find ours aging a bit.”

“Okay, church is over!” I bark out, slamming the gavel down on the table. As everyone leaves, I look at the huge wooden behemoth that my father and the original brothers crafted. Oncewe made the decision as a club to patch over to the Royal Bastards, the logo in the center was carefully cut out and put on the wall, and we put in a new insert with the RBMC Roanoke, VA insignia instead.

So many changes,I muse. I just hope like fuck we’re up to the challenge. I stop at the bar and grab a beer before heading into my other sanctuary, my office. Time to do some work before the clubhouse devolves into party central.

Sitting alone in my office, I grimace as I go through the pile of paperwork I need to sign off on. I’m ahead of the game, but I know this party is likely to be epic as fuck, so want to get shit done and dusted. “You busy?” a voice calls out.

Hearing my friend’s voice, I push the rest to the side to finish later and call out, “Come on in!” My smile is wide when I see Declan stroll through the door, Axel at his side. “When did you two fuckers get here?” I ask.

“About twenty minutes or so ago. Banshee showed us to our rooms, told us to grab a cold one, then sent us down here,” he replies, handing me a bottle of beer.

Popping the top, I take a long pull, swiping my hand across my face to remove the foam. “Good trip?”

“Not too bad, actually. Weather cooperated for the most part, although the further north we got, the colder it got. Appreciate you warning us about the unpredictability of your mountains.”

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