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At the table, Pop was staring at them over his readers. He focused on Zach and nodded his head one time. Lyra knew Zach had impressed him.
She was starting to think Zach might actuallybeperfect.
As long as he didn’t leave her and return to Tulsa.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“We’re fuckin’ mechanics, man,” Cooper complained as everybody—the Bulls, the Haddons, and Reed’s realtor friend Patrick—met in the parking lot of a restaurant for sale. There was a big, faded, weather-beaten sign on the top of the building, shaped like fifteen-foot cheeseburger. “I don’t know if any of us here can even boil water.”
Patrick nodded in retail—a look that was both agreeable and stubborn. Here at property number three, that look was developing a frustrated edge.
Well, the Bulls were frustrated, too, and this Patrick guy—short, slim, and dressed like he lived in Manhattan and had a lifetime subscription toGQ—would be no match for any one of them if things got heated.
“I’m sorry, fellas, but this is Laughlin, Nevada. From almost any spot in town you can look out and see where the town ends and the desert takes back over. There just aren’t that many commercial properties available, and none of them are automotive. I’m showing you every single option except those in office buildings. We could cross into Arizona or California, I’m licensed in all three states and it’s all the Laughlin area, but you specifically said you want Nevada, and I’m showing you what we have.”
The first option they’d seen was a dry cleaner, one Ben hadn’t vetted because it was brand-new on the market. At first, they’d seen some potential because it was freestanding, with a decent parking lot and a fair amount of surrounding property they could possibly turn into a compound. But all the dry cleaning equipment was in there, and the work to gut it and make it into something else would be too expensive and time-consuming.
The second property had been in a strip mall. A little sports bar. That was basically the opposite of the dry cleaner—a promising kind of business, but not nearly enough separation from the normies.
And here they were at site number three. A diner. Free standing, with a large gravel parking lot and a big patio with a half dozen bright red wood picnic tables and a massive smoker. What the inside was like, they did not yet know, but Zach thought this one had promise. Everybody else was looking at the building with disgust, though, and, feeling like the youngster in the group, he wasn’t sure he should say anything.
“The other option is to find a residential property for your ‘clubhouse,’” Patrick said. Every time he said the worldclubhouse, Zach heard faint quotation marks. Patrick’s respect for the Bulls was grounded in the hope of a commission and probably some intimidation, but no actual respect. Which was fine. Pop often said that when you couldn’t get someone’s respect, their fear would do.
“We need a business, Patrick,” Caleb said.
“Maybe we do both? Instead of a compound, have a place that’s our clubhouse, and have a place that’s our business,” Zach offered. Everybody turned and gave him their attention, and Zach wondered if he’d said something stupid. “Can we afford that?”
“Say your thinking, kid,” Cooper said.
“Just—I think we’re going about this wrong, maybe. We want some privacy for the clubhouse, and we need a business for our work, and Patrick’s telling us there’s not a lot to work with here for businesses. We could do a barbecue place, I think, or a bar or something like that, but we don’t want normies around the clubhouse, right? I mean, back home, our clubhouse isn’t our business. Grampa just got lucky that the residential building right next to the station was available, so we have a compound.”
Caleb gave Zach a thoughtful look and turned back to Patrick. “He’s right. Are any of these commercial properties near a good-size house for sale? Doesn’t have to be right next door, but that would be great.”
But Cooper shook his head. “In a pinch, maybe. But I say that just means moving again down the road. We need a compound. Clubhouse and business together. But I guess it doesn’t have to be a business already, just somewhere we can put one.”
Patrick’s chuckle fairly screamedyou assholes are going to be the death of me, but he said, “Give me a minute or two to do some cross-checking. Let’s go in and you can at least look around inside here while you’re waiting.”
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~oOo~
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The inside was verydiner-esque. Booths, a few two-top tables, and a long counter. There was nothing here that could easily be made into their clubhouse, but it probably wasn’t completely outside the realm of the possible that they could do a restaurant for a business. Pretty much every Bull could grill well, and if they recruited right, and attracted the right kind of girls and hangarounds, it could work.
