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“Yes, please, Thea.”
She acknowledges me and then turns her attention to King. “And for you?”
“Fried chicken.”
“You want whipped potatoes with that?”
“Yeah, with gravy and green beans.”
“Great. Drinks for you both?”
“Coffee,” we both chime in simultaneously.
Thea grins. “You boys are all the same.”
King leans back in the seat, extending his arm across the top of it. “You’re a regular boy next door, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
He waves a hand in the air. “Small town, you know everyone… wife, kids, and I bet you even donate to the local high school. Am I right?”
Frowning, I ask, “Your point?”
King leans forward and clasps his hands together on top of the table. “It’s been quite a while since you’ve been in the fight. Hell, when was the last time you went on a pack ride, joined a rally, or got your hands dirty? Maybe you’ve become so accustomed to this lifestyle you’ve forgotten what it’s like to roll up your sleeves and get down and dirty in the trenches?”
I smile at King, and whatever he sees, he moves away from me. Sucking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly. Peering into his eyes, I don’t speak until he shifts slightly, indicating his discomfort.
“You got voted into your presidency.”
“So did you,” he fires back.
“Yeah, but not until it got messy,” I respond, my voice firm. “Not until I had to battle for my seat at the table. I thought you were savvy, King. The old ways are fading, and we’ve got to adapt, but if you think for one moment I won’t take whatever measures necessary to safeguard what’s rightfully mine, well, you’d be a fool.”
Thea arrives at the table, puts a cup in front of each of us, and pours coffee into them. “Food isn’t far away. Howie said to ask if you want to take pie home to Kat?”
King smirks. “Yep, you’re a regular hard-ass.”
Thea leans down and looks King in the eyes. “Yes, he is.” King’s gaze shifts to her. “When the bullets were flying, Dane was down in the thick of it, helping rescue Tobias. Bullets were literally flying. I don’t know who you are, but you’d best watch your tone.” Thea looks at me, nods, and struts away.
“You sure she’s taken?”
Ignoring the question, I ask, “Are you here to talk business, or are you here to fuck with my chapter?”
King holds up his hands. “Business.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. I was out of line.”
“Yes, you fucking were.”
He lowers one hand, holding it to his chest, and waves the other in the air. “I apologize. If it wasn’t for you and your forward-thinking, the Savage Angels would not be in the position of power they now are. But I’m telling you, we’re being muscled out.”
“Not here.”
“Dane—”
“Not. Here.” Casting a cautious glance around the café to see if anyone is listening, I lower my voice and say, “We don’t shit where we eat. This is our town. We look after those in it, and yes, we donate money to the local high school and clinic. A wise man once told me public perception is the most important thing, and you have to be able to spin anything.”
Which isn’t entirely true. The saying is, ‘Public perception is the most important thing, and Dave can spin anything.’ Dave is Kat’s manager and surrogate father. He keeps The Grinders, Kat’s band, in the public eye with just the right amount of rock 'n' roll edge to make them relevant but clean enough that mothers’ groups don’t picket their concerts.
“Spin?”
