Page 14 of Thunder

Maybe.

She was really fucking fine, though.

Still, I straighten my tie, finally getting it right—or at least, right enough—and knowing that the sense of purpose that I'm feeling right now with helping that family is well worth it. Ready, I step out into the shop and clear my throat, drawing attention from both Rook and Bullet.

"Tonight's a big deal. Not just for me, but for some people who really need help. You know that old lady we stole that car from? Turns out her land, and a bunch of other peoples', is right in the way of some development. This company is trying to push them out of their homes. I could really use your help with this."

"Will I have to talk with anyone?" Rook says.

"You're helping people?" Bullet adds.

"This is important," I say. "And no, Rook, I don't need anything from you except to show up, maybe wear something not covered in grease, and just raise your hand or whatever when they ask who's against this thing. Can you do that for me?"

Bullet nods. "I'm in."

"Whatever." Rook grabs a chamois cloth and starts cleaning his hands. "Maybe I'll show. But if anyone tries to shake my hand or make me talk, I swear, you'll regret it."

“Relax, you angry bastard,” I say. “This meeting thing should be simple, straightforward. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

* * * * *

I arrive at the community meeting and quickly find a seat beside Eileen, Owen, and Natalie. The room buzzes with tension. In just a second, it’s clear to me that people are deeply divided and emotions are running high. A mixture of responsibility and adrenaline—the same way it feels before a fight breaks out—simmers inside me. The people of Costa Oscura are ready for war.

"Glad you could make it, Marcus," Owen says as I take the seat beside him. "We need you on this. Are the others coming?"

"They'll be here."

Someone that I vaguely recognize from some city council campaign poster steps onto the stage and announces that the meeting will begin in fifteen minutes, and that whoever parked their purple Volvo in the reserved parking space has ten minutes to move it or else it will be towed.

No sooner does the city councilman finish his announcement than I sense motion to my right and see Bullet and Rook both taking their seats.

I frown at Rook. "You're wearing your cut? And what's that logo? Did you design that yourself?"

"I can be creative when I want to be."

"It says Steel Reapers MC. Are you just testing that out or what?

"I like this logo. It speaks to me." Rook shrugs.

"This is the first I'm seeing of it," Bullet says. "What do you think you're doing here with that thing, Rook?"

"Wearing my club cut. You got a problem with that?" Rook retorts.

"It sounds like you've decided it should be our club logo. We didn't vote on that, Rook," I say.

"If you'd like to discuss it, I'd be happy to come by your place later and we could talk it out."

"It sounds like you're threatening to kill me." I scoot my chair to put a little distance between me and Rook.

"Nonsense. It'd be a friendly chat. See? I can be friendly."

Rook then smiles in a way that reminds me of a loving mother lion eying a gazelle it's about to murder and bring back to her cub.

I look at Bullet. Our eyes meet and we both nod.

"I'm good with the new logo if you're good with it, Bullet."

"I think it looks great."

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