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“What’s your poison, Prez?” His lips parted, and it was about as genuine a smile as I’d seen the man wear.
Brother had just proposed to his woman about a month ago on New Year’s. Leo was in the kitchen making sure everything was perfect for tonight. They made the perfect pair, running my clubhouse together. Eve called them a Grouple, a gross couple, she explained, because they were so nuts for each other in public. Apparently, Opry had a thing for getting caught in the act.
But behind his smile was something else… anticipation. My treasurer, Opry, and I had plans that didn’t just involve him getting his girl pregnant, so my babies didn’t grow up in the club alone. We were working on a scheme to get back at the mob. Ralph Getty in particular, an asshole who’d cost us both a lot of money and grief. Opry’s eyes danced with all the mischief we had in the works but couldn’t disclose as of yet. Not until we succeeded.
Squinting my eyes to find it, I pointed to the wall of liquor. “Crack open that Pappy for Satan. Three glasses. You having some too, Love?” I asked Eve.
She inclined her pretty head. Eve had finished breastfeeding Angel, I knew, but she was a lightweight from going sober for so long.
“Give me some of that,” our current VP said as soon as Opry handed it over. He sat at the bar with his ol’ lady Jassica.
They’d gotten married last year in a double wedding with his blind sister, Cece and her man Irish, one of my Enforcers, at a cathedral in downtown Nashville. Beautiful affair, and all, but I was thankful Eve didn’t up and demand I get married in a church. I was more than happy to get hitched at my clubhouse. Even though I’d agreed to wear a monkey suit in exchange.
After Pagan stole two shots, Eve and I joined Satan to listen to the rest of Memphis’s speech. I poured Eve a drink and then poured another.
“My granddaughter’s doing me proud,” Satan said, before reaching for his glass.
Eve jumped back and let out a loud shriek that startled me as well. Fuck.
Satan laughed and wheezed so hard, I thought the man might die, but the crowd quieted only for a second.
Memphis went on, unalarmed.
I put my arm around Eve. “Settle down. Didn’t I tell you he ain’t gone yet? Just leaving the home for hospice soon.”
Chapter 2
Kingpin
“Yeah, girl. Hell ain’t ready for me,” Satan quipped, alive as ever. “Got this idea from the movies they make us watch in the old folks’ home.”
“We’re having his funeral while he’s still alive enough to raise some hell,” I explained, wondering how my ol’ lady missed the memo. “Besides, his daughter ain’t letting us Bastards anywhere near his real funeral.”
Eve stuck out her lip, looking put out. “Christ on a cracker, Kingpin. You could’ve told me.” She huffed before she whispered, “I thought he was really gone. I bawled my eyes out this morning planning my set. Why in tarnation is he playing possum, wearing those sunglasses?”
Satan pointed to his hearing aid. “I can hear every word. I’m just playing my part, dear.”
“Been busy, Love. You know this was all very last minute,” I started, while I was wondering how she thought we brought an embalmed body into Royal Road and set him on my throne.
“Yeah, most funerals are… I hate being the last to know everything ‘round here.” Eve folded her arms.
Knowing the look on her face too well, I tried like hell to ignore it. Eve hated that I kept most club business from her.
“I ain’t about to have this fight, not tonight.” I took the opportunity to lay one on her.
It wasn’t often I got her all to myself, away from our babies. If she didn’t have the kids, she was performing, and not just at Royal Road. Although I was so proud of her, I found it hard to share her with everyone. Even if she hadn’t been back to Broadway, Eve had become quite the star around Nashville.
Not only with her pipes. She also wrote songs for my brother, the star, and his Country Music friends. And because we both had so much going on, communication was getting tough. But Eve and I were determined to keep up with one another, working harder than ugly strippers.
Her hands found their way into my hair, like the first night we were together, reminding me how much I always longed for her, and how she fell in love with me, someone she once feared.
Eve was on stage next with Dimple singing one of Satan’s favorites “All My Rowdy Friends Are Coming Over Tonight”. But next she transitioned into a melody of funeral friendly songs, from “I’ll Fly Away” to “Amazing Grace” underscoring our miscommunication. And those melancholy tunes were hitting me way too hard. Fuck, I hardly shed a tear at my own father’s funeral. Soon, I was inviting her off the stage because this was meant to be more like a party than a wake.
Grabbing the mic, I covered by giving my speech right then, although I planned to close the night out with it.
“Alright, gather ‘round, y’all. We’re here to raise our beers to the baddest motherfucker to ever throttle a Harley, Satan, our VP, the heart and soul of this goddamn club.” I pulled my notes out of my cut, but I was basically winging it.
“Satan was the epitome of a Royal Bastard, a man who chewed up asphalt for breakfast and spat out authority for lunch. He rode like the devil was on his tail, and maybe he was, ‘cause Satan sure as hell rode like he stole every hog he ever mounted. His beard was as wild as his misdeeds, and his loyalty? Fucking unbreakable. He was a beacon of freedom, a symbol of the outlaw spirit, riding into the storm when sane brothers headed for cover.
