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"Yeah, because you need to chill out more," Brooks grumbled, reaching for his binoculars, looking down at the Vultures clubhouse.
"Hey, man. We're all supposed to be woke and shit about mental health awareness," Dezi declared as he took one more puff before tucking the pen away.
I couldn't tell if Dezi was actually admitting to having some sort of mental health issue that required CBD, or if he was just deflecting Brooks's attention. Dezi was hard to get a read on that way. He never gave away any personal information directly, and the things he said indirectly were done in such a way that it was impossible to tell if it was something he'd simply seen or learned about, or if he'd actually been through it himself.
Either way, though, his ploy worked because Brooks backed off as he reached to grab the camera instead of the binoculars, snapping off some pictures.
"So, what's the deal with this? Are you actually figuring anything out while staked out all fucking day, or are you just hoping some clues might fall in your lap if you're here enough?"
To be fair, that was a valid question.
We really hadn't accomplished much in all the time we'd been watching the rival MC.
Sure, we now were almost certain we had pictures of all the members, which was helping us build a file with possible profiles of them. We'd managed to track a few of them down via their mugshots. It had all been the kind of shit we were expecting, though: aggravated assault, battery, illegal possession of a firearm. It was all shit we could be hauled in for at any time. And the charges took place in many different states.
"This MC is hard to pin down," I told Dezi, even though I wasn't sure how much we were supposed to be sharing with the prospects. "We know their name. And we've figured out there are several chapters. But that is where it ends. We can't figure out the hierarchy or even which chapter is the mother chapter. They don't share shit anywhere. We need to gather whatever information we can about them."
"You think they're trying to take the club out?"
"No one knows. I don't think so. They could have tried before now. But I don't think I would put anything past Danny."
"What's his problem?"
"Her."
"Oh, right. Is she hot? I mean, I get your type runs to waif-like blondes in waitressing uniforms, but objectively, is she hot?"
"Objectively, yes." I wasn't even going to argue with him on his point about Holly. What purpose would it serve? He was right, after all. I was into Holly.
If I were being honest with myself, I'd been into Holly since I'd first met her. It had been a slow-burning type of thing that built each time she tossed me little bits of herself to fuel the flames. And it was all starting to build to something much bigger. Especially now that I'd gotten my hands on her, gotten my lips on her.
I didn't begin to understand what it meant that I was into her. I hadn't had a thing for a girl since high school, and even then, it barely lasted a few weeks, let alone months.
I didn't really have anyone to talk about it with, either. None of my biker brothers or anyone of my cousins had gotten serious with anyone yet.
Niro and Andi getting together didn't count. They'd been in love with each other since they were kids. They just had to go and fuck shit up before they got it right.
No one knew about tripping along into something new and unknown with someone.
I was on my own.
I guess I would figure it all out as we went.
"No one's thought about, I dunno, seducing the information out of her?" Dezi suggested.
"I beg you," Brooks said, smirking over at the new prospect. "Please bring up that idea when the club is full one night. Preferably with the girls club. I am sure they will have a lot of thoughts and feelings about that idea. Those thoughts and feelings might have physical consequences too," he added, clearly enjoying the idea of watching one of my aunts or cousins beating some feminism into Dezi.
"What? I guarantee you she wouldn't be above using one of her men as a honeytrap if we had any women in the club. Just saying, alls fair and shit. Use what you got," Dezi said, shrugging as he picked up my binoculars to look down at the Vultures clubhouse.
They'd gone ahead and permanently set up in an old bar with a set of apartments above it. What'd they'd done to renovate it was anyone's guess, but from what the OG members of our club said, the old bar had been—for fuck knows what reason in the upper East coast—a country-western place. That meant it had a long bar to the one side, tables around the other, and a big old dance floor facing a stage where there used to be live performances. There was also a small kitchen and a back storage room. And possibly—though no one could confirm this—a basement.
