Page 7 of Shade
“Tell us how much,” Fiend says.
“If we invest half of our share, we could grow our investments,” I say, looking around.
“We can’t decide if we don’t know how much,” Killer says, gathering his brows.
“Give us the numbers,” Demon says, lifting his chin.
“We each get five hundred thousand dollars, plus, Mama Bear and the girls will get their share,” I say, looking around.
“Wow! Whoa! Fuck! Seriously! Oh yeah,” The Brothers says, nodding.
“We’re taking a vote,” Demon says.
“Take half. Any yea,” Diablo says.
“If you want all of it, I suggest that you really think about what you’re going to do with it. We don’t know how often we will get this huge amount of money,” Demon says, looking around the room.
“Well, fuck! Any nays,” Diablo says.
“Nay,” the Brothers yell.
“Fuckintastic! Shade, send the Brothers the scratch to their bank accounts along with the statements,” Demon says, nodding.
“Will do,” I say, sliding my finger over the tablet.
“On another note! This shit is serious! The motherfucker Satanic Bastards MC are still causing chaos in our turf. Additional girls have been taken, and I fucking don’t like it. Plus, we need to fucking get revenge for what they did to Fiend. The fuckers fully intended to kill our Brothers,” Demon shouts, slamming his fist on the table.
“The runs need to continue as scheduled. We want 24/7 scouting in the downtown area for the fuckers,” Diablo says.
“If we don’t fucking catch them in our turf, we might have to go to their clubhouse and set them straight,” Demon growls, gathering his brows.
“Damn straight,” Diablo says.
“Do we have updates on the Mad Dogs whelps,” Demon asks.
“Updates look promising. The Brothers report that they’re excited to learn and work with us. They’re taking all instructions and are performing well. So far, they look promising,” Diablo says.
“I want the little shits to learn to scout and to gather information in the underworld. But I want them to distribute the weed to our clients,” Demons says, nodding.
“The new schedule has been sent out. New Brothers this week to monitor the whelps,” Demons says, nodding.
“Fuckintastic! Brothers, Church is over! Satan’s Warriors power,” Demon yells, standing.
“Riding till we die,” the Brothers yell, pumping their fists.
Three
Roxanna
A few days later.
I take a drink of my water and walk to the room. I sit in a chair, looking at my cell phone, waiting for a message or a call. I have submitted applications to several law firms, but so far, they don’t appear interested. Yes, two replied that they’re looking for someone with experience. I can’t get experience if no one hires me.
I thought it would be easy to get a paralegal job.
I wonder if I should expand my search into other cities, like down south.
The fucking roaring sound of the bikes makes me jump. Those fuckers are invading my space, my neighborhood, and it’s Roseanna’s fault.
