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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
*Vincent “Vee” - Road Captain*
“Kal is in a mood. I give zero fucks about his opinion of us showing up at the saloon without him. We’re going,” Coty grinds out, practically dragging a spaced-out Zane by the collar of his jacket through the old amusement park. The six of us move at a clipped pace around abandoned rides and busted debris until reaching our bikes.
“Let me guess, for no other reason than to make sure the kid gets taken care of?” I prod.
Coty seldom does anything that isn’t for his own gain. He wants to see Lace, not help Zane. Especially since he hates sharing her, and an initiate always gets her undivided attention. Just once, she brings us out of our lowest low. An initiation day is the only time Coty looks the other way. Kinda.
“Wrong. No way is Stoney oblivious to the fact that we have already arrived. This shit is going to fire him up. Who do you think will get the backlash, hm? Take a wild guess, Vee.” Apparently today he’s singing a different tune; in a roundabout way, he actually admits Lace is the reason.
Problem is, Coty is right.
The dancers — mostly Lace and Jess — will be at the receiving end of that fury. And our local sleuth is in the devil dome with Kal and Kio right now. The longer we stay away, the greater the risk for the saloon employees.
As soon as Prez gave the order for me to babysit Coty, I knew something like this would happen. Why he pinned me with the responsibility to begin with makes no damn sense. The Vice President is four chain links higher than me. How am I supposed to obey two superiors with conflicting demands at the same time?
Frustrated by my unfair predicament, I level Coty with a glare.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he sneers, shoving Zane toward Brodi and whipping toward me. “You wanna work this out a different way? I sure as shit would like to keep things friendly between us. We brawl, you win. You concede, you win. Best choose based on the overarching consequence.”
And that is why Coty is an executive officer and not me; he knows I would slaughter him in a fight and is humble enough to admit it. Not that I want any executive responsibility. They can have it. As it stands, I feel like an old man aging out of the scene already.
Coty also knows I have a soft spot in my heart for logic…
…and for Lace and Jess.
All of us do.
My focus drifts to Baylor and Chaz. Baylor is watching the entire scene, amused, while absently removing the thermal liner of his jacket and stowing it in his tank bag now that the day is getting warmer. “You did your best,” he tosses at me with a shrug.
“A good captain always goes down with his ship.” Chaz tips an invisible pirate hat and grins before slipping his helmet on over the black gaiter keeping his hair contained. With a groan, I realize he’s already completely geared up again. I swear Chaz has it just as bad for Lace as Coty does. Possibly worse. The call is close.
Baylor is just a couple pieces behind Chaz, now reattaching the back of his jacket to his riding belt.
There was no way I could win this battle because, honestly, we are all eager as hell to get there — to indulge a little before the madness continues. Mannaggia, the week has only just begun, and I already need a joint.
All in all, picking sides between the Kal and Coty lover’s quarrel is the least of our worries. The worst part of coming to the Gulf Coast is walking on eggshells around the Rolling Stones. Prez usually tries to hit up the saloon right at the beginning of Bike Week, have his honorary meeting with Pop, and pay the price for temporary amenability. Then he steers clear while the rest of us enjoy the proclivities.
Eventually, tip-toeing around the Rolling Stones will no longer work, though. Red flags will raise soon enough, if they haven’t already. In fact, showing up early this week very well may have raised one.
Used to be we would have two, maybe three assignments during Bike Week — one per night. But that has nearly doubled, and our typically four-night stay has turned to five. All this damn vigilante work we do, and the rate of sleezes we have to discipline rises on the regular.
That or word of mouth, I guess.
È ai mali estremi, estremi rimedi.
With a sigh of surrender and a quick side-to-side crack of my neck, I lean against my Ape and study Zane. No matter how hard Brodi and Coty try, neither of them can snap him out of the shock. Brodi even attempts to offer him a snack, but he slaps it away, body shaking relentlessly. His usually brownish eyes are reddened and his face is still tear-streaked as Coty helps adjust his helmet.
Focus once again drifting, I note that the later in the day it gets, the louder the traffic noise becomes; the din now overrides the natural sounds from the nearby gulf. In this distressed state, Zane will be a liability on the road, especially with how busy the streets are right now. I try to peer through the beams of the old rollercoaster to verify; however, we are hidden well, and I’m forced to judge by hearing alone.
Coty might insist on heading straight to the saloon, but as Captain I still feel the need to put my foot down where their safety is concerned. Zane needs to ride with someone.
The kid is at least six feet tall, though, and likely dead weight right now.
Kio is noticeably the tallest member and would likely struggle the least with a front passenger, but he is unavailable. “Chaplain needs to get cleaned up and calmed down before getting behind bars on his own again,” I warn. My attention whips to Baylor, the second tallest member of our club. His contented, amused smile falls flat. “Bay, ride two-up. Zane in the front.” Riding that way will be a bitch, but the former is even more dangerous. “Make arrangements for his bike to be delivered to the saloon. We can’t have him causing a scene on the road right after an assignment.”
I flick my attention to the present member with the most authority. Coty considers my proposal for a moment before giving Baylor a sharp nod.
Superior approved.
Everyone, except for Kal, gets what they want.
After a couple hits from that much-anticipated doobie, I will care a little less about the repercussions, should there be any. I have enough witnesses to prove my hands were tied.
In retrospect, Coty put his ass on the line, not me.
