Page 3 of Snow in Texas

Colin greeted them all with a duck of his head, then glanced over at Candy, at the VP patch stitched to his black leather cut. “Where’s the prez?”

The room grew quiet. A shadow passed across Candy’s face. “You’ll meet Crockett in time. When it’s right.”

Okay, everything about that struck Colin as wrong. But he couldn’t argue, could he?

“Where’s your cut, prospect?” Candy asked.

“In my bag.”

“Put it on.” Not up for discussion.

“I didn’t wanna wear it on the bus,” Colin explained as he dropped his duffel and dug the required garment from its depths. “Didn’t know how the locals felt about you guys.”

A raspy chuckle echoed from across the room: Blue. “Son, they love us ‘round here.”

The cut was doubled up and had worked itself down to the bottom of the bag, full of creases. Shit. These boys wouldn’t like that, would think he was being disrespectful. He stood and shook it out, slid his arms through it. Bob had been the one to present it to him, blank save a prospect patch at the chest, and a bottom rocker bearing the same word. Cuts were sacred in the MC, even before they were festooned with patches.

Colin straightened the leather over his chest and glanced at his new VP.

Candy gave him a level look. “You’ll get to work tomorrow. And that cut? I don’t wanna see you without it again.”

Here it went.

“Yes, sir.”

Three

Colin

The dorm Candy showed him to was narrow and shabbily furnished, but clean. It smelled like fresh linen and the small window overlooked an expansive back lot full of cars and bikes, all the metal glimmering dimly beneath a security light. He had a twin bed, a dresser and a footlocker. Extra blankets were in a closet down the hall, Candy told him, and there were two communal bathrooms that he would be expected to clean as part of his prospect duties.

“Have Darla make you something,” Candy said before departing, “and you can get started in the morning.”

Then he was left alone.

Colin sat down on the edge of the bed, wincing as he felt a spring dig into his backside. He didn’t understand the contradictions of this place; it had the air of a total dump that someone was desperately trying to turn around, the effort obvious, the motive – not so much. That wasn’t any of his business, though. He just had to keep his mouth shut, follow orders, scrub toilets, run laundry, and keep cold beers in everyone’s hands.

The charmed life of a prospect.

He unpacked his meager belongings and went in search of food.

Darla turned out to be the dark-haired woman he’d spotted in the kitchen before. She was plump in a pleasing, motherly sort of way, her face lined with age and humor. She was Blue’s sister, she told him, and she smiled at him and told him to go sit down at the bar, that she’d bring him a plate.

The twins were still absorbed in the game, and Blue was playing cards with three of the others – Jinx, for sure, with that beard and hair – but the others he couldn’t quite remember. Fox and Candy were gone, which was just as well. Right now, Colin wanted to eat and be left alone.

He picked a center stool at the bar, since it was abandoned, and a moment later Darla appeared, sliding a heaping plate beneath his nose, setting down a mason jar of sweet tea thatthumped when it hit the bar top. God, it smelled like heaven. An open-faced pulled pork sandwich slathered in sauce, coleslaw, baked beans with big chunks of ham hock, collards, and a fat wedge of cornbread.

“There’s more if you want another helping,” Darla said, patting his arm. “You’re a big boy, bet you eat a lot.” She gave him a wink and headed back to the kitchen.

Okay, if he got to eat like this, maybe the transfer was worth it.

He’d just crammed the biggest bite of sandwich he could tackle into his mouth when someone climbed onto the stool beside him. A skinny, greasy, pimple-faced someone. The other prospect, Pup.

Awesome.

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything…

The kid looked at him with unguarded curiosity. “Darla’s a real good cook.”

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