Page 12 of Taming Bull

Ah, the punchline. Wasp couldn’t help himself. Laughter erupted around the room as our vice president egged the room on.

Link glared at Wasp for a solid minute. Then the corner of his lips slid up into a smirk. Shaking his head, he replied, “Such a fuckin’ wiseass.”

“What?” Wasp asked, positioning the podium a few feet away from the table, facing the room. “Fuckin’ helpful is what I am. I saw a need and I took care of it. Downright thoughtful. Resourceful even.” Wasp smacked the wood and the hollow sound echoed. “Bull, I can’t believe how good this looks. Bet it didn’t even look this good brand new. You got a gift, brother.”

His praise felt like too much. I ducked my head and thanked him.

“Get up here, ol’ man.” Wasp gestured Link over. “You wouldn’t want all of Bull’s hard work to go to waste, now, would ya?”

Link reluctantly joined Wasp behind the podium. He ran his hands over the wood and nodded to me. “You did a fine job, Bull.”

More praise I didn’t know what to do with. “Thank you.”

Wasp grinned. “You look good up there, Preach, er… I mean, Prez.”

“Amen,” Havoc, the club’s sergeant at arms, added straight-faced.

More snickers floated around the room.

Having grown up in church, I’ve seen my share of preachers. With long hair and covered in tats, Link didn’t remotely fit the image. “Bunch of fuckin’ clowns,” he muttered, but he stayed behind the podium. “Now, can we quit the bullshit and get back to business?”

Wasp took his seat and gestured for Link to continue.

“Anybody got anyrealnew business?” Link asked. When there was no answer, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed something into it before returning his attention to the group. “Nobody? All right. I’ve got something. We have a visitor who wants to check the club out before he throws his hat in to become a prospect. He was stationed out of Fort Lewis.”

“Army or Air Force?” Buddha asked. Officially known as Joint Base Lewis-McChord, the base located just south of Tacoma housed both military branches. Since it was originally an Army only base, most of the locals and old timers still referred to it as Fort Lewis.

“Army,” Link replied.

The door opened, and a dark-skinned man peered in. His gaze scanned the room before landing on Link. “Permission to enter?”

Oh yeah, this guy was fresh out of the service.

“Come on in.” Link waved him forward. “We’re pretty relaxed around here. Just a bunch of assholes cracking jokes and shit as I’m tryin’ to lead church.” To the group, he added, “Dead Presidents, meet our prospective prospect, Tavonte Jones.”

“Tay is fine,” Tavonte replied as he paused by the board table.

“Why don’t you come up here and tell us a little about yourself?” Link asked.

Tavonte marched up to the podium and Link stepped aside, giving him room. “What do you want to know?” the newcomer asked.

“Where you’re from, family details, what your job was, any skills or shit. Whatever you want people to know about you.”

Tavonte took a moment, and answered, “I was born and raised in Nashville. My mom and my little sister are still there.”

“And your dad?” Link asked. His eyes had softened, making it clear he knew the answer and it was a rough one.

Tavonte didn’t reply.

“Go ahead,” Link urged. “We’re all family here. We keep no secrets.”

“Except Tap,” Morse blurted out.

Everyone but Tap laughed. The former intelligence officer flipped Morse off.

When the room grew quiet, Link nodded to Tavonte.

“Army,” Tavonte answered. “He died in Somalia when I was a baby. I don’t remember him.”

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