Page 10 of Hard as Stone
Perfect. At least we won’t be having this confrontation in his office at the garage where we’d have an audience.
We find him surrounded by open boxes, clipboard in hand, looking way too pleased with himself.
“Duck!” Lee’s sharp call has the old-timer looking up from his paperwork. “You want to explain this?”
I slap my cut down on top of his inventory list. He peers at it through his reading glasses.
“What’s to explain? Clean lines, classic design?—”
“Spell it,” Lee demands, pointing at the offending word. “Spell out what that says.”
“M-O-T-O-R-C-Y...” Duck trails off, his face going pale. “Well, shit.”
“Well, shit is right.” I lean forward, bracing my hands on the desk. “How many of these patches did you order?”
Duck’s eyes dart to the boxes surrounding us. My stomach drops.
“Duck.” Cash’s voice carries a warning. “What’s in these boxes?”
“Remember that marketing budget Stone approved?” Duck shifts uncomfortably. “You know, for the new merch line?”
“No.” Lee starts prying open the nearest box. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Premium merchandise!” Duck protests as Lee pulls out a stack of t-shirts. “Top quality! Do you know how much this stuff cost?”
“Apparently not enough to include spell check,” I mutter, watching Cash unearth hoodies, baseball caps, even baby onesies—all emblazoned with ‘Stoneheart Motorcyle Club’.
“Baby clothes?” Lee holds up a tiny black onesie. “Really?”
“Got to start them young,” Duck says defensively. “And look—the rhinestones on the women’s tanks really make the logo pop.”
“Rhinestones.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You put rhinestones on our...”
“Misspelled club name?” Cash supplies with a groan.
“We can’t wear this shit,” Lee groans, still digging through boxes. “Jesus, Duck, there’s even coffee mugs. And... is that a throw pillow?”
“For the clubhouse! Maggie said we needed to spruce the place up a bit.”
“Your old ladyknewabout this?” I ask.
Duck suddenly becomes very interested in his clipboard. “She, uh, might have helped with the designs.”
“Perfect.” I throw up my hands. “So not only do we look illiterate, we’re going to look illiterate while drinking coffee from matching mugs.”
“Could be worse,” Cash says, reaching into another box. “Could be these.” He holds up a pair of hot pink women’s boy shorts with ‘Property of Stoneheart Motorcyle Club’ bedazzled across the ass.
“Those were Maggie’s idea,” Duck mutters. “Said they’d sell like hotcakes at the next rally.”
Lee collapses onto a stack of boxes, laughing so hard he’s crying. “Oh god. We’re never living this down. Every MC from here to the coast is going to know.”
“Look.” Duck spreads his hands. “The budget’s spent. With all the club’s money being funneled into buying properties, we’re stuck with this until we can afford to replace everything. So either embrace it or ride naked.”
The mental image of Duck riding naked has me shuddering. “Fine. But this stays between us. Anyone asks, we tell them it’s... artistic license.”
“Sure.” Lee wipes tears from his eyes. “Because that’ll work. That traffic girl’s probably already posted it all over social media.”
The reminder of Poppy’s delighted laughter has me heading for the door. “I need some air. And alcohol. Lots of alcohol.”
