Page 7 of Up in Flames

“C’mon, let’s get this over with,” I urge, looking at Rodberg.

He nods, grabbing a cigar from Jonny’s mouth as we pass him and puts it in his, taking a long drag. Jonny simply goes about his business knowing Rodberg’s a higher rank than him.

Sometimes authority is a good thing.

Sometimes it’s a curse.

Depends on the day.

As we walk through, we notice the NOLA Defiance MC brothers hanging about. It’s not often they visit, but they’re a fucking important supplier to the Baton Rouge Bachelors, so I better get my ass over there and say hello.

I gesture to Rodberg, and we step over to their president, Hurricane, their VP, City, and a couple of other club members, Bayou and Hoodoo. They spot me approaching, and Hurricane grins before speaking, “Cain, good to see ya. You keepin’ busy?”

I snort out a laugh. “Always! What brings you ’round?”

“Waitin’ to chat to Boss about our product bein’ shipped usin’ your Bachelor methods.”

I glance at Rodberg and see he’s taking all this in. “Well, if anyone can help you with shipping, it is us. How’s shit at the club?”

Hoodoo snorts. “You know, we’re always at war with some bastards.”

Bayou cackles. “That’s why we have a pet alligator.”

Smirking, I give a half-suppressed laugh. “You guys are in a league of your own. I guess an alligator would come in handy. It’s a lot fucking cleaner than how we do things.”

Hurricane nods matter-of-factly. “Feel free to use him whenever the need arises. We’re in an alliance as long asyouare here and a part of our negotiations.”

I put out my hand and shake it with his. “Deal! I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alfie signals from the back room to Hurricane, and I smirk. “Looks like you’re being summoned. I won’t hold you up from seeing Boss. You need anything or have any questions, you come straight to me. I’m only too happy to help you out anytime.”

Hurricane slaps me on my shoulder. “’Preciate it, brother.” The Defiance men walk off to chat with Boss about whatever business they’re negotiating.

I glance at Rodberg. “Those guys hold their own.”

Rodberg lets out a small huff. “They’re going to get themselves in deep shit one day with the fucked-up crap they are into.”

“Well, maybe we will be there to bail them out.”

Rodberg lets out a belly laugh. “They’ll probably be here to bailyouout more likely.”

I shove his shoulder, and we walk toward the bar.

Trap sits at the end, downing what looks to be another round of bourbon from the three empty tumblers before him, and I pull up a seat next to him. His hair is cut peculiarly, shaved on the sides, leaving only a tuft on top and a single long strand falling from the back in a rat-tail. That’s how he got the nickname Trap because his hair looks like the tail of a dead rat in a rat trap.

Rodberg pulls up on his other side.

Trap glances up and smirks. “Barrington… nice to seesomeonemade it in tonight.”

“Well,someone’sgot to be on the job.” I remove the tumbler from his hand and place it on the bar.

He grunts and looks up at me. “What the fuck! You have no idea what it’s like. You get everyfuckingthing handed to you on a nice silver platter, Mr. Second-in-Charge.” Trap wipes a hand over his tatty hair. “Being third is like being handed a booby prize. You don’t get to make any of the calls, and I am just another one of the soldiers. I’m like the rest of the low-life scum.” Leaning across, he picks up his drink and throws it back quickly.

“Hey, fucker, I’m not low-life scum,” Rodberg chides as I raise a brow. “Well… notallthe time.”

I click my tongue to the roof of my mouth in a tut-tut manner. “Trap, I know you want in on the decision-making. I realize you need to be included more. I’ll try to make that happen.”

He leers at me and huffs. “Cain, I want more. I sure as shit don’t want this.”

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