Clay
I walk into Drifter’s office, he called me, told me he had something urgent to tell me, my stomach’s in knots thinking that Brandy might have opened her fucking mouth and the whole plan would fall to shit. He’s got a shit eating grin, and I automatically know it’s good news.
“We got the fucker,” he beams. I fall on the sofa, relief flooding me that Brandy came good on her word, although I don’t know why I doubted it, it’s not as if she had much choice in the matter. The strip joint is the only work she’s even known.
I sigh. “Thank fuck for that.”
“Just had notification from Brandy. They turned up at his work, searching his car and found the stash under the seat.” His phone dances across his desk, and he picks up. “Yep. Okay. Sounds good, thanks.” He puts the phone down, and his grin widens even farther. “He’s been held at Euston Street.”
I rub my hands together. “Fuck, yes, when’s the time?”
“Well, our inside man isn’t on duty till this evening. He’ll call us, give us the heads up.”
Drifter has a copper on the inside, the club as a whole gets into some pretty shady shit, so between the bent copper and Gears’s sister, we manage to fly under the radar more often than not. My phone buzzes in my pocket, I pull it out and see that it’s Bella.
“Everything okay, beaut?”
“Yeah, I need a ride,” she sounds breathy.
“Beaut, why do you sound like you’ve just been riding my cock?” Drifter laughs in the background.
“Did you really say that in front of the brothers?” I can imagine her cheeks flushing that deep shade of red, like it always does when she’s embarrassed. “Anyway, I’ve had a call from the social services. They need me to go and collect the boys from school,” she rushes out, her voice a mix of exhilaration but also nerves. “Shit, Clay, Liam’s being arrested. They turned up at his workplace and the house, and raided them at the same time. Found class A drugs in both, apparently he made a right scene at the office when the police tried to arrest him.” She doesn’t stop for air. “I didn’t even have a clue he was into drugs. Apparently, the social worker said something about him being charged with ‘possession of a controlled drug with the intention to supply’. The boys need collecting from school.” I cover the handset with my hand.
“Pres, can I borrow the car?” He nods and returns back to scrolling on his phone.
“Where are you?”
“Just walking back from work. I’ve left early. I can’t have the boys having no one there to collect them.”
“Go back to the cafe, I’ll pick you up in the car.” I cancel the call, grabbing the keys from the key box.
“All falling into place then?” he asks, grinning.
“Sure is. She’s had a call from social services, and she needs to go collect the boys.”
“I’ll get Rochelle to make up a room for them.”
“Cheers, Pres.”
We pull up outside the school. I hate this time of day, everyone rushing around, no one has any patience for each other. She hasn’t stopped talking about Liam being arrested and although it fills me with complete joy, I keep my mouth shut about who is responsible for it. She needs to know as little as possible so she can’t be dragged into the mess if it all goes wrong. Although right now all I want is a call from our insider, giving us permission to go in and make sure the fucker doesn’t brandish our doors every again. She steps out the car, bending over and peers back inside. “You coming?”
“You sure you want me there?”
She frowns. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my husband.” She smiles at the word ‘husband’, and I get out of the driver’s side.
“I just didn’t want to scare all the teachers away.” I laugh, zipping up my kutte. “You know we don’t get accepted by many mums with the patch.”
She wafts her hand. “Fuck what they think, they always find something to whisper about anyway, why not give them something to talk about in the playground. Half of them are bored little housewives that secretly, deep down, just want a good shag.” She places her hand in mine, her heels clicking confidently on the pavement. She’s walking in those school gates like she owns the place, she isn’t ashamed and certainly isn’t hiding. We stand together, and I can feel the eyes burning us. The mums whisper to each other as they walk past us.
“You sure you don’t want me to wait in the car?” I ask, suddenly feeling way out of place standing here.
“You do realise they’re more than likely all whispering about me, right?”
“I reckon it’s the leathers and the patch. They’re more than likely scared for their kids to be anywhere near me.”
“Nope, they haven’t seen me for months. They’ll be talking about how my husband brainwashed them into thinking I’m an unfit mother. I bet they’ve had some right fun with the Chinese whispers. I think there was one rumour that I was a crack head, sleeping with anything to get my next score.”
I thought the playground dynamics ended when you left school, but clearly, when your kids start back, they go back to being a pack of fucking vultures looking for the slightest weakness.
