Page 80 of Givin' Me Fitz!
Arlo turned to Gilly. “Go ahead and put those in the oven if you don’t mind. It’s up to temp. I’ll be right back.”
He and I walked out the front door of the restaurant so we couldn’t be seen from the club, which was behind the restaurant. When we stepped outside, we could hear loud rock music, which meant the party was in full swing.
“I’ll be quick. Who asked you to cater the party?”
“Abner called me this morning after you stood him up for breakfast and asked me to make food for his homecoming party. What could I say, Bones? He’s the past president and he’s your father. I couldn’t say no.”
It sounded as if he had something else to say, but the door opened and Gilly came out with Arlo’s jacket. “Sorry, guys. It’s chilly out.” He handed it to Arlo and turned to leave immediately. The chaplain gave no reaction.
“I don’t know if I’d call it a homecoming party. I don’t know if he and Mom are staying.” It hit me hard saying those words because it was better for them if they stayed in San Diego. The club didn’t need Dad getting involved in its business and wrecking everything I’d accomplished.
I needed to know which side of the line Arlo stood on—my side with the club members’ best interests at heart, or my father’s side that would take the club right back to where it had been when I got out of the Army. Was Arlo with me or against me?
Arlo reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a blunt. “Take a hit?”
I nodded. “Is it the last? Is this the last time we’ll share a smoke as friends?”
Arlo pulled his lighter from the pocket of his jacket and lit it, taking a few puffs before he passed it to me. “I fuckin’ hope not, prez. What the hell is going on? The tension when the guys were here for breakfast had my chakras bouncing off each other. Nobody fucking talks to me. I have no idea what’s going on, but Gilly made sure I had this.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small Ruger, extending the palm of his hand where the gun rested.
I took a hit from the blunt and held it inside, wishing to fuck it could take away the shit happening right in front of me when I exhaled. Life shouldn’t be that way.
After passing the blunt back to him, I leaned against the post holding up the front porch roof, waiting for Arlo to show his hand, one way or the other. I believed him to be an honest guy, and I respected him, regardless of the way things played out between us.
He lifted his foot and pushed off the cherry on the bottom of his clog, holding the blunt and touching the tip until it stopped smoldering. He lifted his gaze and met mine. “You’re my brother, Bones. You’ve never asked me one question about my past. You accepted me and supported me since the day we met. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’m a Cowboy to my core. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not turning over my kitchen to any Scorpion motherfucker.”
He pulled me into his arms and clapped me on the back, assuring me he was on my side. I appreciated that I didn’t have to ask the question. He freely gave me a passionate answer.
Hobie called Ders and Spider, and they came to The Roundup when they were relieved at Tumbleweeds. Before I opened my mouth, they both swore allegiance to me. T-Roy called me after Ders phoned him and told me he was ready to fight by my side.
Tiny scared the fuck out of me, waiting by Hobie’s car when the two of us were ready to leave as the party carried on. “I hope you don’t think you have to ask me if I support you as our prez.” He looked down at the gravel parking lot, so I pulled the big kid into my arms and hugged him.
“Didn’t think I did. Go enjoy the party, Tiny. Shit’s about to get real, and I don’t want any of us getting hurt, but if the Scorpions challenge us, we’ll fight together.” Tiny nodded and went back to the clubhouse.
Hobie and I left without me seeing my father. I’d told each of my brothers to be safe, and I would see them in the morning. I would second-guess myself about whether leaving was the best idea, but if Keller was able to talk them into joining him, then I wouldn’t be mad. They had to follow their own conscience.
Chapter Thirty
Fitz
“Fitz! Come talk to me.” Sparky’s voice carried through the entire building as my phone buzzed with a text.
I love you. Just remember that. Sawyer
I was sitting at my desk, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. It had been a long fucking day after Sparky and I returned to the office from Mesquite to pick up my Glock 22. I was ready to go home but Digs and Leo were on a bail run to the Clark County Detention Center, and I wanted to wait until they returned in case something came in last minute.
Keats and Gree were keeping an eye out for a bailee we believed would skip town, based on past experiences with multiple offenders. The woman had a court date on Monday morning for shoplifting, her third offense. This one might send her to jail for a while.
Sheila Tucker gave every indication she might be a flight risk because she wasn’t answering calls or returning text messages when Greeley tried checking on her to see if she needed a ride to court. Keats and Gree had bailed her out, and they weren’t going to let her leave town and forfeit the bail Sparky had put up for her.
Jagger and I had volunteered to relieve them during their weekend shift of bail runs so they could keep up their vigil over Sheila. The woman had family in town where she was allegedly staying, but Sheila hadn’t shown up there. Sometimes people lied.
Sawyer and I hadn’t talked about any weekend plans, and sitting at home by myself staring at the walls sounded depressing as fuck, especially since the fight was Friday night, and we had no idea what the outcome might be.
Love you too. Call me when you can. I’m worried about you. Fitz
After shooting off the text to Sawyer, I scooted from the desk and headed to Sparky’s office. When I walked in, I wasn’t surprised to see Monty on the couch, scrolling through his phone. They were husbands and business partners. Neither did anything without the other.
“What can I do for you, Sparky? Hi, Monty.”
