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Actually, maybe he could go home, grab Siena, and work out some shit that way. Since he apparently had a girlfriend for the first time in his adult life. Sex on call was supposed to be a perk of that arrangement, right?
The thought of Siena calmed him. Once he got under all that armor, he’d found a sweet, smiling, generous, eager hottie. She was even funny—andflirtatious! And holy hell, she treated every orgasm he gave her like she’d won the Powerball—which pretty much made him feel like a god.
Yeah, maybe instead of working his tension out with violence, he’d get hot and sweaty a friendlier way.
Ben came up from the back of the shop and set an array of screwdrivers on the sales desk. “Easy, boss. We’re gettin’ there.”
“Tulsa will be here Friday. They dropped a shitload of money to seed this charter, and they’re expecting us to be up and running. They’re expecting a fuckin’ party, with chicks and booze and food, and someplace to bed down. They’re expecting a goddamn Bulls clubhouse.”
“Understood. We got all that,” Ben said. “Bunkhouses are placed, and Kai and Geno are back buildin’ the beds and shit now. Zach took Lyra to Costco for bedding. We’ve all been talking up the clubhouse with folks who look like we wouldn’t mind ‘em hangin’ around. We got plenty of girls ready to pretty up the joint. The clubhouse is ready to party. We’ve already shown we’re ready for the club work. So the shop’ll take a little longer to get goin’. It’ll happen, too.”
Cooper might have been at least a little mollified by Ben’s assurances, except they were delivered in a tone that was pure ‘talking down the crazy fool.’ Also, he fuckinghatedthat his VP was so much better at this shit than he was. “We can’t be throwing money around all over town without a business that looks like it could make that money. If you don’t know that, you’re a moron.”
Reed glanced at his father, then turned and disappeared to the back of the shop. Cooper and Ben were now alone in the front.
Ben didn’t move. As far as Cooper could tell, his expression didn’t change. But the atmosphere in the room had nonetheless chilled several degrees.
“You’re my president, and you’ve worn the Bull a long time. I know that. I’ve seen you act like a man who can handle that president’s flash, too. I don’t have a problem with you at the head of our table. But no man disrespects me, Cooper. If you have a problem with me, say it out. We’ll work it out, or we won’t. If we don’t, I’ll step back and let somebody else sit at your right hand. Right now, as your VP, I’m gonna speak freely and say you’ve been actin’ like a fuckin’ pimply teenager about gettin’ this compound set up. Shit’s gettin’ done, Coop. We got law in line. We got agreements with most of the crews working the area. While you’ve been stompin’ around here with a propane torch up your ass, we’ve been gettin’ shit done.”
“Are you saying I’m not pulling my weight?” Jesus Christ. If Ben thought that, one of them was going to have to give up his flash, yeah. Probably it should be Cooper.
He never fucking stopped thinking of the shit he needed to do, the weight around his neck of this whole goddamn club. He did everything he could think to do. Every minute of every day, he was focused on doing this shit right, but not one fucking thing had gone right yet.
But Ben was shaking his head. “I’m sayin’ you’re not seeing that we’reallpulling our weight, and shit is gettin’ done. It’s not all on you, Coop. We’re in this together. And fuck, man, we turned that shitty house into a great clubhouse. I’m lookin’ forward to Tulsa seeing how much it’s changed since they were here. The garage is like a mansion for our bikes and gear. As for this shop, we got no control over whether a container ship makes it across the ocean. It’ll happen or it won’t, and we’ll deal if it doesn’t. Starting a business is full of bullshit like this—delays, cost overruns, staffing shortages. It’s part of the deal. It all takes time.” He took a few steps closer and leaned on an empty display case. “When you’re leading us in Bulls work, I see the leader you are, and I’d follow you into fire. And I understand that it’s easier for some men, like me and you, to think clear and act smart when it’s life or death to do otherwise. It’s the daily bullshit that’s hard. I get it. You gotta get good at that, too, though. Bein’ the boss is nine parts daily bullshit, one part life or death. Right now, brother, you’re a bastard of a boss.”
Cooper considered his vice president. That speech was easily the most Ben had spoken at a go in all the months Cooper had known him. The impulse to be pissed, or defensive, or sarcastic, or otherwise shitty in response was strong, but he tamped it down and thought about what Ben had said.
The summary: Cooper was letting little shit,typicalshit get him caught in his spokes. He’d gotten so tangled in what was going wrong, he’d missed what had gone right. And Ben was right: except for some minor details, the clubhouse was done, and it looked good. They had a gorgeous table in the chapel, with very nice padded leather chairs, sturdy and classy both. Floors, walls, ceilings, windows, doors, all replaced and looking great. Kitchen was like a mini restaurant version. Geno and his cousin had built an awesome bar, and they’d finished it off with a mirrored wall and glass shelves for booze and glassware. Great pool table. Two vintage arcade games—Tron and Defender—and a 1950s vintage pinball machine. And a stripper pole!
They had some girls, and would have more. He’d done his part to get the word out on that score. They needed to start having parties to start really drawing girls. And thatwason him; he’d already quashed a few suggestions from the others to throw open their doors.
It was the same problem with their lack of hangarounds. Cooper was ... well, he was scared to open the clubhouse. He hadn’t really let the thought rise to the top of his head before now, but it had been there for a while: what if they threw open the doors and ended up with a rat in the clubhouse? They’d never had a rat in Tulsa’s clubhouse, as far as he knew. He did not want his charter to introduce that potentially deadly infection.
It was supposed to be his primary strength: he was good at reading people, and equally good at reading situations. More times than he could count, he’d stopped a fight in the Tulsa clubhouse before it could happen. He’d gotten between girls and guys too drunk to be decent before anybody got hurt. He’d thrown up the first red flag on that asshole who’d tried to kidnap Kelsey a few years back. He understood people.
But right now it was his primary fear: that he’d miss something or do something to fuck this new charter up, possibly something that could take the whole club down. Like letting a rat in.
He wasn’t trusting himself. He didn’t feel like president material.
But what else had Ben said?I’d follow you into fire.
He was good at the life-or-death shit, and that was the shit he most needed to be good at. He was good at keeping the club safe, good at getting club work done well. Even that mess in Idaho. How had that ended? With the customer getting their order, the idiots who’d got in its way fertilizing Idaho soil, and the Bulls back home.
Not all the Bulls. Not Gargoyle.
Cooper shook that thought away. Losing Gargo was a blow, definitely. But he’d been a soldier, they all were soldiers, and they all knew any run on club business might be their last day breathing. A president’s job wasn’t to prevent his men from getting killed, it was to make sure they didn’t die needlessly or in vain.
What losing Gargoyle wasn’t? A curse.
“You’re right,” he said to Ben. “I’ve been getting lost in my head.”
Now Ben came close and set a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “That flash is heavy. Takes some gettin’ used to.”
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~oOo~
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