Page 6 of Wild Card
I quickly tap my hand against the table in surrender when I start to choke, and Prez eventually gives him the nod to release me.
“You talk to your president with some fuckin’ respect,” he growls, shoving me back into my chair before retaking his seat.
“Jeez, y’all need to loosen up a little. I was just tryin’ to lighten the mood in here.” I touch my fingers over my neck where I swear he’s fuckin’ bruised me.
“This ain’t no fuckin’ joke, kid. People are dying, and someone out there is dealing their shit right under our noses. Cody is a clean town. The club only ever runs their shit through; it never makes it to our streets. We work hard to ensure that,” VP reminds me. “Whoever's behind this is organized and smart. We can’t underestimate 'em.”
“Grizz is right, and if you makelightof it again, I won’t stop Wraith from chokin’ you,” Byron warns, looking to his right and nodding at his Sgt-at-Arms. It don’t need to be explained how he got his road name, he looks fuckin’ dead inside.
“I think it’s a good idea.” The geeky-looking guy sitting beside me breaks the long, awkward silence. “Wild Card here can act like he’s lookin’ to score, do some askin’ around, and hopefully bring back a little treat for Taint to interrogate.”
“That's more like it. Thanks, man. I appreciate the vote of confidence.” I turn my head and show him my gratitude.
“Dude, we need all the help we can get around here. I think we can all agree on that.” He looks around the table at all the others, and although they look pissed as hell, none of 'em disagree with him.
“Well, if no one's got anything to add, I’m sure you all got things to do.” Byron slams the gavel, and the room quickly starts to disperse.
“That was underwhelming. I was expecting at least a pep talk or somethin’.” I huff a laugh.
“Byron likes to keep things short and sweet.” The guy follows me out and offers me a smoke when he pulls a pack out of his cut. “How are things over at Earl’s place?”
“It ain’t bad.” I take one, but I remain cautious; it’s weird how nice he’s being. I’ve learned from experience that no person is everjustnice. There’s always an alternative motive.
“Must be kinda tough being back in town without your father around.” He proves he ain’t giving up as I locate my Zippo so I can light the thing.
“I never really knew him,” I admit, hating how weak my voice comes out.
“You prospected here while he was President, though, right?” He frowns.
“You wantin’ my whole life story or just the highlight reel?” I snap my Zippo shut and stare back at him.
“Chill, brother, I was just being inquisitive. It’s my job around here to know everything.” He smirks as he sparks up his own cigarette.
“Who the fuck are ya, anyway?” I look him over, trying to figure him out. He’s different from any biker I’ve ever seen before; his black framed glasses and the shoulder-length blonde hair he wears tied back make him look like he belongs in a fuckin’ office.
“They call me Hack, and I was just being polite in asking. I already know most of your dirty little secrets.” He winks at me sarcastically before we get interrupted.
“Yo, Hack, I need you to run these through for me.” VP comes at him with a stack of what looks like invoices.
“Tech genius and, right now, club treasurer too, it seems,” he tells me, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, well, we’re low on numbers, so everyone's gotta pull their weight,” Grizz reminds him.
“I’ll get right on it.” Hack takes the pile from Grizz’s hands and heads off toward one of the side doors, leaving me alone with the brute of a man who’s made it clear he ain’t happy to see me.
“Place has sure changed a lot since I left.” I look around the almost empty barroom. When my father was President, he had plenty of members, and this place was always packed out the door.
“I knew ya father well, Ash….I liked him.” Grizz’s voice drops as if he’s about to get all deep and meaningful on me.
“I’m sure he’ll rest a little sounder in his grave knowing that,” I snigger. I don’t know much about the man standing in front of me, but I do know that he was my father’s Sgt-at-Arms. He had sworn to protect him, and he fuckin’ failed.
“He spoke about you often.” He ignores my comment and continues.
“Told you what a failure I was, I'll bet.” I shake my head and laugh bitterly. “Boasted about how I’d spent more time in jail than out of it,” I add sarcastically.
“Hey, Dom was nothin’ but proud of you,” he says with a real serious look on his face. “He hated that your mom had taken you away from him when you were a boy. Spent a lot of nights in here before he died, telling me what he planned for when you got out.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I stare back at him blankly.
