Page 15 of O'Mega's Revenge
“Huh. I thought she was just one of the club women. They’re mouthy.
Sometimes. The thing is, I got along better with most of the Destroyers’ club girls than the women the bikers married, or called “ol’ ladies.” The three exceptions being Danielle, her mother-in-law, and maybe Jelly. The jury was still out with her. I think she tolerated me because I didn’t hit on her old man.
“Multiple clubs?”
“Shot caller from Buffalo, Tahoe president, two Chicago muscle, I think. I don’t know who they were protecting. Hagerstown, Pittsburgh, and Akron.”
Missile added her list. In all, over eleven clubs were represented.
“I don’t get it. Why the fuss over a local VP?”
Trot’s question got a shrug out of Missile. But I had an idea why.
“Create compelling spectacles,” I mused.
“Ward, there’s something wrong with the Beav.” Missile laughed at her own joke.
“She’s quoting Machiavelli.”
Wrong. It was likely Cleopatra, or P.T. Barnum.
“Jackson is wooing the brass.” He was using the retirement of his VP to plead his case to the leaders of the Destroyers. That case being to let them slack on the illegal shit because they were bringing in legitimate money. At least, that was my theory. Skilletsville’s leader wasn’t an idiot. He must have seen the writing on the wall. When you’re pulling in good money, why screw up and risk jail time, or worse? The biggest problem, one Wolf once pointed out to me when we were cooling down one night in this very house, was when other people think they are owed a piece. They’ll feel they deserve it through association. And, since the Destroyers were a very large association, only a strong man or a team of strong men could hold off the scavengers. Their former VP didn’t fit that description. I swore Jackson chose Kush because he would never challenge him for the top spot. Wolf, on the other hand, was strong. He was the ideal person Jackson should pick to present a strong front against the leadership. And it was an “us versus them” situation.
Trot picked up the thread I dropped. “Can you find out why?”
I shrugged. Wolf didn’t talk about the politics of the club, except his desire to be VP. That I knew about even before I went to live on Wheade Farm. He once told me if he had the second spot, things like buying girls would stop under his watch. On occasion, he complained about the way the strippers he employed were treated. Under his watch, they had it better than most. That made him well-liked by both his men and the girls. Willing and happy women are much more congenial than abused and angry ones. The latter could kill you.
A smile crossed my lips at that thought.
“Thinking of the wall-banger you just had?”
“No, murder.” I was dead serious.
Of course, they thought that was funny. Why? No clue. Maybe because I’d hidden that portion of my history from everyone. Almost everyone.
“Don’t kill Wolf until you get the information for me, deal?” Trot slapped me on the shoulder, but paused to add, “But if you could, try to get him to stop hiring hookers, please?” Her head tilted toward the party. “Some chapters wouldn’t like the association.”
She didn’t mean it as a personal attack, but a long-buried part of me took offense. I hid it with my silence. But inside, that bitch was screaming at the injustice. It wasn’t long ago that I’d been one of those women. Willing or coerced, it didn’t matter. You were lumped into that same shitty bucket of descriptors. Marginalization begets solidarity.
“The proper term is escort.” I dared her to contradict me with my raised brow.
“Hit a nerve, didn’t I?”
“Whoopsie. I’ll be over there if you need me.” Missile swung away from our little meeting to hang near the door where she could monitor both the party and her president.
“A nerve? How about a thousand nerves. One for every day I didn’t have a choice.”
Her chin worked as she digested my words. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Then she ruined it.
“It’s just that you’ve been better for so long— ”
“Better? You mean I was somehow less because I was trafficked?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“I. Don’t. Care.” I spoke slowly so she would get my point. My blood was pumping through my body, making it hard to think. This was important, so I took my time to get it out.
