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Tim is probably right: I bet they take their cuts. If things get really bad, I could see the boys
getting into a scuffle. They killed a lot of men in Bested by Crows, and they fucked around with
Broken Dallas. While Seventy-seven Brothers has no affiliation with either club, Darren might see
that as a sign of disrespect. I twist my fingers together and try not to be nervous. I hardly see Darren
as things stand anyway. Once a month, if I'm lucky. And he lives club business, breathes it in instead
of air. This is all he does, all the time. So why is this particular item on the agenda getting my heart
palpating and my hands sweating? Maybe because I know he's going to ride with the boys, even
though he shouldn't. He hides himself in the back sometimes, but only on business he feels personally
vested in. That doesn't happen often. Poor Triple M. They better watch themselves. I almost feel
sorry for them.
Get over yourself, Tease, I say as I take a step back and move into the bedroom, dressing in a
loose fitting shirt and a pair of jeans. When I'm around the guys, I dress like the name implies: corsets,
leather pants, dark lipstick. When I'm alone, I'd rather lounge around in a faded gym shirt from my
freshman year of high school and my sister's abandoned jeans, just a size too big for me.
I grab my magazine from last night and a pack of cigarettes and head out onto the front porch for
some more people-watching fun. Our house is exactly ten blocks away from the clubhouse, along the
same street. It's also a historic district, so we get tons of tourists, cameras flashing, eyes wide with
wonder. Even our house is a relic from times past. There's a circular placard to the left of the front
door. The Marston House: built circa 1719.
I curl up in a chair, cigarette pressed tight between my lips and start watching, flicking my eyes
down to the page every now and again, just to pretend I'm actually reading. Maybe, if I'm lucky today,
I'll actually see somebody worth looking at.
Beck
Chapter 6
I don't wait around to see what's what. This shit ain't coincidence, and I highly doubt that Seventy-
seven Brothers is just stoppin' into town for a nice vacation. I can absolutely guarantee that they are
not here for toast and jam.
I hate being right, Goddamn it. As predicted, here we go again. Another MC, another tussle. I flip
my bike around and use those side streets I just memorized to zip back to the hotel. If Seventy-seven
Brothers takes the exit from the highway, it'll take 'em about five minutes to catch up to us. Meaning,
we can't really get nowhere, not with everybody spread all about, lounging on the fucking beach and
whatever. We can make a stand though. I doubt the two cops that patrol this town have enough
manpower to stop us.
When Kent was around, he made friends in weird places. Don't know how the man did it. Guess he
had some sort of scary charisma or somethin'. I, myself, was immune from the start, but I was drawn
to Gaine and Austin, Kimmi, like we'd been friends forever. Anyhow, whatever he did to keep us out
of this sort of situation, it'd be nice to know. Startin' fights with other gangs is not my idea of a good
time. Yes, I like to rough fuckers up every now and again, but the danger factor here is too high. One
wrong move, one misspoken word, and that could be all it takes.
I hop off my bike and burst into the back door of the restaurant, sweating up a storm but trying my
best to keep my calm. No need to get these touristy folks up in a tizzy. Luckily, my instincts are dead-
on as usual the lovebirds are still a nestin'. Austin sees me first, standing up from the table with
pursed lips and eyes locked on mine.
We got a problem, Pres. A big one. I put a cigarette into my mouth and light up. Think there's a no
smoking thing going on in here, but fuck 'em. What are they going to do? Arrest me? To be precise
with y'all, I'd say we had, I don't know, seventy-seven of them.
Fuck, Austin snaps, making Christy jump. Poor little blonde belle. I wish we could've welcomed
her and Amy under different circumstances, into the world we used to know, where everything was
quiet and all our jobs were kept secret behind closed doors. I know it don't sound perfect, but it was
nice. It worked. Where are they?
'Bout five minutes out. And they've got all the cavalry onboard. I don't remember how much I told
you about Seventy-seven Brothers, but they always ride with seventy-seven members when they're out
on club business. Always. But that ain't all of them, so we better play real nice here. I glance over at
Gaine as he rises from his seat. No shots fired, you stupid motherfucking asshole. My friend's face
flushes, but he doesn't argue. He knows you do stupid shit when you're in love.
Gaine, sweep the halls and grab anybody you can find. I split the group in half, so there should be
at least twenty-five people still here in the hotel. The rest will be out by the beach most likely, so start
makin' some phone calls. Austin copies me and sticks a cigarette in his mouth while I grin like a fool
and slap Mireya on the back. She scowls at me.
Finally acting like a real President there, I whisper, watching as Austin turns to Amy with a look.
Splitting the group in two, one for leisure time, the rest on guard duty. I love it. Our two Southern
belles have already caught the drift and follow Gaine out of the restaurant and into the lobby. Me, I
check my weapons one more time and head back outside, fetching one of my pistols from the lock box
on the back of my bike. Please don't kill anybody today, sugar tits, I tell Melissa when she steps out
into the sunlight, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjust to the brightness.
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