Page 2 of Property of Tacoma
My lips turn up in a lazy smile. “Yeah, I remember now.”
Turning to Bash, who still looks confused, I explain, “He hung out at the marina when he wasn’t out on his boat, shrimping. Crazy fucker had the hots for our Momma. Anytime Fred would see her in town, he’d tell her to give him a call when she got shot of our old man.” I laugh, remembering how it used to drive Pop apeshit.
Looking back at my brother, I ask, “What about him?” I’m not sure what he has to do with the purple-haired stripper.
“That’s her daddy.” Bane points to the “her” who’s currently twirling around the pole on stage. “Her old man’s got renal cancer,” he continues. “It ain’t looking good. Think that’s what brought her back to Odin.”
I look back at the stage where it’s raining singles on the stage.
Damn.
That’s fucking rough. Single mom and her pop’s dying.
That’s a tough row to hoe.
“Send Cyber a text to put a G in her account.”
Our tech man is a maestro with a computer.
There’s nothing he can’t do with a laptop and an internet connection.
Hacking into Odin Savings and Loan to help out a single mom trying to do right by her old man is child's play for him.
Picking up my glass, I take another sip of my drink and scan the strip club. Pretty Kitties is in full swing tonight.
My Pop and Red bought this place a little over ten years ago, right before I got locked up. It’s been a solid investment and the perfect way to clean our money.
“Story, what exactly did Camden say when he called?”
The club’s secretary shrugs his massive shoulders. “Just that he needed to meet. Had “pressing matters” to discuss.” He makes air quotes with his fingers as he rolls his eyes. “Something felt off, though. Like he was trying too hard to sound casual.”
I snort. “When doesn’t something feel off with that piece of shit?”
The thing about Mayor Camden is that he’s been in our pocket since he got elected six years ago. He knows damn well that the Kings of Anarchy MC moves product for the Mexican cartel through our trucking company. We pay him a generous monthly stipend to ensure Odin remains a safe passage for our shipments. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement that’s worked well for us all.
Until now, apparently.
“How’re the kids doing with the new custody arrangement?” Gator asks, changing the subject as he signals a passing waitress for another round.
I exhale, thinking about Jagger and Saylor. “Good as can be expected. Jagger’s pissed at his mother, as usual. Got his permit last week, though. Kid’s already begging me to teach him to ride.”
“Following in his old man’s footsteps,” Bash grins. “Before you know it, he’ll be prospecting.”
The thought sends a complicated mix of pride and worry through me. I want my son to choose his own path, but there’s no denying the pull of club life once it’s in your blood. “He’s got a few more years before we cross that bridge. And his grandmother would have my nuts if I let him prospect before he graduates.”
Bane laughs, the sound deep and genuine. “Momma would do more than that, brother. Remember when Dad tried to get me to prospect at seventeen? Thought she was gonna burn the clubhouse down with all that sage she was waving around.”
The corner of my lip tips up.
Our mother—with her wild auburn hair and hippy crystals—is a force of nature. She knows that what we do is far from legal, but that’s never stopped her from trying to save our souls. It’s a lost cause of course. We’ve done far too much to ever make it through the pearly gates.
“What about Saylor? How’s she adjusting?” Bash asks, genuine concern etched across his face. “Still got those dogs trailing behind her everywhere she goes?”
A small smile tugs at my lips despite myself. “Red took them back. He trained those damn Dobermans to be protection dogs, and she had them wearing pink bedazzled collars and tutus. When he saw what she’d done, he decided maybe she wasn’t ready for a dog yet.”
The table erupts in laughter. My daughter has managed to wrap everyone around her little finger, including a compound full of hardened bikers.
The day Saylor was born, I was still locked up. Broke my heart that I missed her coming into the world.
