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“Better my fuckin’ fist than doin’ time for fuckin’ girls that ain’t turned ripe yet.”
“That’s one thing not on my fuckin’ sheet.” He’d gotten caught doing a lot of stupid shit, but that wasn’t one of them.
“Yet,” Cage said with a smirk. “Better start cardin’ them to make sure it stays off your record. That clan’s law might be ‘old enough to bleed, old enough to breed,’ but that ain’t true for the rest of us.”
Sig dipped his chin as he considered Cage across the table. The asshole probably had no idea about Red yet, but Sig didn’t give a fuck, he was an asshole all the same. “Can show you firsthand what’s on my fuckin’ sheet, if you’re that interested. Can go down the list and demo—”
Trip smacked the gavel on the table hard, getting their attention. “Can we get the fuck back to business here and not turn this fuckin’ meetin’ into a brawl? Jesus fuck.” He shook his head. “Any-fuckin-way, gotta keep things cool with ‘em. Can’t afford to fuck that up.”
“Tell Sig that,” Ozzy said, grinning at him. “Plenty of pussy startin’ to show up at The Barn. No reason to go elsewhere. Not one of ‘em has said no when I ask ‘em to spread it and show me that shiny pink center.”
“Christ,” Judge muttered beside Sig.
“My point is—”
“Taken,” Trip finished for Ozzy. “Your fuckin’ point is taken. Sig’s aware to stay the fuck away from those girls... women.”
“Speakin’ of women, we need to talk about the knocked up one sleepin’ in his bed,” Deacon said.
“That’s last on the agenda,” Trip muttered.
“What knocked up woman?” Cage asked.
Ozzy’s head spun toward Sig. “You got a fuckin’ kid on the way? Didn’t think they’d get knocked up by doin’ ‘em up the ass. Musta slipped and went in the wrong hole.”
“Fuck!” Trip yelled. “It ain’t his kid. Let’s table that right now and get the other business outta the way first. We’ll circle back to that.”
Deke laughed. “That’s what he does. Circles ‘round to the backdoor.”
“Oh, this should be fuckin’ good,” Ozzy snickered.
“Will my Sergeant at Arms keep order at this fuckin’ table?”
“Shut the fuck up, assholes, and let the prez speak,” Judge growled, then went back to rubbing Jury’s ears since her head was in his lap. Sig noted not sniffing the man’s balls. “That good?” the enforcer asked Trip.
“Great.” Trip sighed and shook his head. “Let’s talk about somethin’ other than pussy. Need to patch in Sparky and Mouse. It’s time. Told ‘em six months, it’s been that.”
“What about Dodge and Shady?” Sig asked. They were probably getting close to the end of their time, too. It’d be easier to patch them all over at once and get it done. Make room for more prospects in the bunkhouse.
“Dodge got another month to go. Shady at least two,” Judge said.
“Two?” Ozzy asked, surprised.
“Yeah, he came later and still don’t trust that motherfucker.”
Sig asked Judge, “What’s he done for you not to trust ‘im?”
“Hardly says shit,” the big man answered.
“And that’s a plus right there. ‘Specially with all the rest of you fuckers who got diarrhea of the fuckin’ mouth,” Sig grumbled.
“Bringin’ Sparky and Mouse to a vote. Wanna do it now and surprise ‘em later?” Trip asked.
Yeahs went up around the table.
“Anyone got a problem with either of ‘em?” Trip asked.
A couple noes were heard.
“All in favor of Sparky and Mouse gettin’ their full rockers and patches?”
A loud “Aye” rose from each of them.
Trip then asked the obligatory, “Anyone opposed?”
Silence filled the room except for Justice’s loud snoring where he was curled up near Deacon’s feet.
“’Kay. You heard it. Ozzy, let ‘em know they’re no longer considered dog shit and can get out of those shitty bunkbeds and pick an open room. We’ll throw a little celebration downstairs and hand ‘em their patches after the run Sunday. Sig, set that up. Deke, have ‘em tell you whatever road name they want on their patches and get ‘em ordered, yeah? Don’t tell anyone what they chose, let ‘em announce it at the party. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Deacon answered.
Trip raised a palm and grimaced. “Unless the names are stupid as fuck. Then run ‘em by me first.”
Deacon grinned. “Got it.”
“Means two more open spots for dog shit, Prez.”
“Yep,” Trip answered Ozzy. “Know anyone?”
“I’ll keep an eye and ear out.”
“Just like you let your dick hang out,” Cage said.
Ozzy shoved him and then grabbed his junk, shaking it. “Know you want it, closet cocksucker.”
“A cocktail weenie ain’t a meal, Oz. Lizzy ain’t told you that yet?”
Trip ignored them. “Ozzy, you know what I’m lookin’ for. Now, who else got business to bring up before we circle around back to that other subject.”
“Me,” said Deacon.
“The treasurer has been recognized and now has the table,” Trip announced.
“Christ,” Judge muttered.
Ozzy snorted.
And Cage just shook his head as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
