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Eight glanced at his VP. After a beat, he nodded. “Yeah, that’ll do. Bittersweet. Anyway, we talked about how to do it, what the tradition should be, and this is what we came up with.”
With that, he nodded to Caleb, who turned from the table, set his hand on Christian’s shoulder, and they went to the front door and out. Everybody watched them go. Zach looked around the table and saw that all the Tulsa Bulls knew what was up, but none of the Laughlin crew, not even Cooper, had any idea.
Pop was smiling at him. Pride shone like a lighthouse beacon from his eyes.
Caleb and Chris came back in. Caleb had a wooden chest with a domed top, like a smallish treasure chest, about two feet across. Chris wrestled a large, plain, almost flat cardboard box though the door.
They brought their loads to the head of the table. Caleb set the chest on the table before Eight, then remained at his president’s side. Chris stood behind them, resting his box on the floor and letting it lean against him.
“Get up here, Chris. Let’s see what you got.”
Surprised, Christian hoisted the box back up and took the few steps forward that brought him to Eight’s side.
The top of the box was open. Eight reached in and slid out a ... black wood shipping pallet?
No. Oh. Oh, cool. It was the Bull. Painted on a black slab made of three two-by-twelves was their patch, complete with top and bottom rockers. The top rocker was the club name. The bottom rocker said simply ‘Nevada.’ The Bulls were claiming the entire state.
“Something for your chapel, when it’s ready,” Eight said.
“That’s cool,” Reed said. His voice was low, like he wasn’t sure if he’d spoken out of turn.
“Yeah, it is,” Cooper said. “Thanks, man.” He looked around the table at the Tulsa Bulls. “Thanks, all of you.”
As Coop’s thanks was acknowledged around the table, Eight opened the chest. “I hope you don’t mind, but we got a little mother charter business to sort out quick before we get to the big business. “Chris, put that box aside and get back here.”
Their prospect gave him a quizzical look, but the Tulsa Bulls knew what was up, and that included Cooper and Zach. It had been their last vote in the Oklahoma charter, made by Zoom.
“Kid, you’ve been prospecting for far too damn long. We kept waiting for you to show us you had the right stuff, but—” Eight let that pause go on until Christian’s expression began to collapse into crushing disappointment. Then Eight grinned broadly and slapped the prospect’s back. “But you had the right stuff all along. Welcome to the Bulls, Christian Grady.” He took out a patch and rockers handed them to Chris.
While the table cheered again, Chris gaped at the fabric in his hands. Finally he looked up and said, “Holy shit,” and everybody laughed.
When the table was quiet again and Duncan and Jay had made room for Chris to stand among them, Eight returned to the business of the day.
“Cooper Calderon, President of the Nevada charter of the Brazen Bulls Motorcycle Club. Get up here, Coop.”
Coop came and stood at Eight’s side, opposite Caleb. Eight lifted something from the chest—the new charter’s bottom rocker. He also held a narrow slip of cloth—the flash reading ‘President.’
Handing both to Cooper, Eight said, “What we’re doing is the start of something, not the end of it. You have my trust, brother, to lead this charter forward.” Then Eight pulled Coop into a hard hug. The men around the table clapped and cheered.
“Name your officers,” Eight said and stepped back to let Cooper have the head of the Laughlin table.
Cooper stood for a moment and stared at the chest before him, saying nothing. Zach understood his need for this quiet.
Then he looked up. Without his usual grin, he said, “Ben Haddon is my vice president. Ben’s a salty old fuck who knows his shit. He knows this life, he’s solid as hell, and I don’t think I’m blowin’ smoke to say this charter wouldn’t have gotten off the ground without him. I trust him to be at my right, leading with me. Ben, I know you’ve felt a hole without a patch on your back. Come on up here and fill it now.”
Before Ben came up to the front he turned to his son. Reed embraced him, and they held each other hard. Then he went up, took his rocker, flash, and Bull. He hugged Cooper, then looked around the table and offered his new brothers a single, heartfelt nod.
Somehow that was absolutely perfect.
Figuring he was up next, Zach got himself ready, trying to think of what he’d say when he was up there, if anything.
But Coop said, “Rad, you wanna come up?”
Zach’s father patted him on the back and went up to the head of the table.
Oh shit. Zach knew what was happening, but he hadn’t expected it at all. Maybe he should have; his father was here, and this was a church meeting. But when he’d asked Pop why he was coming, he’d answered only that Eight had invited him to observe.
Cooper handed Zach’s father a rocker and a flash, then stepped back. Pop looked down at the pieces of embroidered cloth in his hands. When he didn’t look up, the rest of the table simply stood there, waiting silently.
