We all go quiet at the guttural rumble of bikes growing louder outside. Punching the garage opener, I watch the door slowly rise to reveal four big, burly bikers dismounting from their Harleys. They all have considerable manes of hair with impressive beards to match. Three are streaked with grey, while the fourth looks to be younger, possibly by a couple of decades. I’m guessing he’s in his early thirties.
“Morning,” I say, stepping forward out of the garage, my boys flanking me in the same manner as the three bikers taking up position around their boss.
“You must be Gabe,” the oldest of the four and the clear leader says, holding his hand out for me to shake.
I grip it firmly. “John, nice to meet you,” I say, meeting his steely eyes with a steady gaze. Any sign of weakness will potentially jeopardize our standing with the Boston crew, especially considering I’m young enough to be this guy’s son. “This is my vice president, Dallas. That’s Rico, and that’s Knuckles,” I introduce, pointing to each in kind.
“Robert, Yank, and my son, Everett,” John says, pointing casually at the tallest member of his crew, whose nose looks like it’s been broken more times than he could count, then to the biggest one who has a prominent beer belly, and finally to the youngest.
Everett’s eyes follow me sharply as I give a curt nod, and he crosses his arms over his chest as if to cut an imposing figure.
“Shall we head into the office for our chat?” I offer, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder to the room at the far corner of the shop.
We take the lead, heading back through the office door and settle behind the desk there, me in the seat while my boys hover protectively behind me. It’s strange to be the authority, to be representing our chapter at its head. I’ve always been the silent intimidation until now.
John settles into the chair across from me, Yank taking the seat next to him as the vice president, I would assume, while the other two stand closer to the door as security. Leaning back in his chair, John exudes confidence and ease. While his frame isn’t as muscular as mine or his son’s, nor as thick as Yank’s, his ego is apparent. I know that this is the first of many encounters where I’m going to have to prove myself a leader despite my age. I don’t mind. I’ve gotten all I asked for from Mark, and I’m determined to show that I’m worthy of his trust.
“First shipment will be ready for you in a week,” John says, his eyes dancing. “We were able to pull some strings for the deal, so work starts early. I hope that works for you fellas.”
I nod in the affirmative. We need the work, so I won’t be turning it away, even if we’re still short on manpower. I’ll do the job myself if our recruits aren’t ready.
“Our boys can haul the trucks in around midnight, if your crew can be there to unload.”
“We’ll be there,” I agree, leaning forward to rest my forearms on the desk, my hands clasped. “You have enough crew to make the transfer, I presume—despite the short notice?”
John eyes me for several moments, assessing me before he responds. “We can provide some of the men,” he hedges after a delay. “But we’re going to need some of yours to aid with the division and transfer.”
I raise my eyebrows, keeping my gaze fixed on him pointedly. “I’m sure Mark will be none too happy to hear he’ll be receivingsomeof his shipment then. My men will load our trucks, but I hope you’re planning on covering the split and reloading on your end. Otherwise, that’s going to be a lot of contraband sitting out on the open road.”
Rico shifts uncomfortably to my left but doesn’t say a word. Good thing because we can’t afford to look weak right now in any way. John studies me with an acerbic expression. Then, without warning, he burst into a deep belly laugh that made his shoulders shake. Next to him, Yank leans back in his chair, a smug smile spreading across his lips as he crosses his arms.
“I like your attitude, son,” John confesses as his laughter finally slows. “I had questioned Mark’s decision to choose such a young pres for this chapter, but I can see why he did. You’ll do just fine out here.”
I take the compliment in stride. I’ve passed his test. Now, maybe we can move on to real business. “I’m certain we’ll get along well together. But it’s Gabriel. I’m not your son.”
A glimmer in John’s eye tells me he won’t take my correction personally, and instead, he gives a slight nod before leaning forward in his chair. “All right then. I’m sure I can rustle up enough men for my end of the transfer. Tuesday at midnight then, at the Whitfield Shipping Yard.”
“Done.”
The rest of the meeting goes smoothly, as it seems John has accepted my position within our new system and hierarchy. To be honest, I’m surprised that it went as smoothly as it did, though I know I’m going to have to prove myself time and again until my name is as known as Mark’s in the Devil’s Sons.
When John and his men leave, Knuckles releases a low whistle and claps me on the shoulder. “Good first impression. Fuck, I thought John might start something when you pushed back about the loading crew.”
“I think he might have if you hadn’t backed me. I’m glad that’s over with. First step toward establishing our name, complete.”
The guys all nod thoughtfully.
“I’ve set up our meet-and-greet deal for the new recruits at Wellies downtown for this afternoon. Figured we could get a jump start on that end, so we have more hands to help finish up the work around here,” Dallas says.
“Good thinking. Let’s get shit set up so we’re ready for them.”
Wrapping things up at the shop, we head over to the clubhouse, which the boys have been living in at the same time as we’ve been renovating. All in all, I would say things are coming along nicely in our new lives, slowly it might seem, but nicely. And now, with work on the horizon, I feel a sense of relief that things just might work out. Not that I would tell Winter—no need to add extra stress with the baby and all—but a lot rode on this first meeting and still rides on us getting this chapter up and running successfully.
4
Winter
I’m prettysatisfied with how the house looks after a day of unpacking and organizing. We still have some boxes, but those will have to wait until we get furniture. And I can definitely see our lives shaping up here in this cute little home. It’s sparse, but it’s ours, and we have plenty of ways we can make it a proper home.