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Marcus, the Club Prez of The Drifters, was pacing back and forth in front of the gathered members of the organization.
‘I acknowledge it,’ he said, stroking his long white beard, ‘I was too timid. I let the Death Division ride roughshod over us. They took and they took… and we let them.’ There were grumbles from the crowd. ‘But all that is in the past,’ Marcus said. ‘Now’s our time. Ain’t that right, Wolf?’
Wolf nodded his agreement. All this stuff was important, more important than just about anything. This was a momentous day. The first club meeting held in their old territory in New York City for a decade.
He should have been feeling elated, like he’d been reborn. Why then, couldn’t he concentrate? Why was his mind firmly in that plushie-filled bathroom in his old bar?
Right now, she — and it had to be ashe— might be clearing her things out of the Den. He wondered what she looked like. Not that it mattered, of course. But he might well never see her. She could be in and out, like a ghost.
‘Wolf, got anything to say, son?’ Marcus was looking at him expectantly.
In his day, Marcus had been an imposing figure. He still was, in many ways, but time had taken a toll on his body. He wasn’t as tall, as physically impressive as he’d been a decade ago. But when he looked at you with those fierce eyes, it still sent a bolt of lightning shooting around your body.
‘I got back into the Den,’ Wolf said, standing briefly. He didn’t have an official position in the club. He wasn’t a Sergeant-at-arms or Road Captain or Secretary or Treasurer. In some ways, though, he had a more important job than any of those fancy titles.
It was his responsibility to make sure that everyone had a god-damn place to get god-damn drunk. And it was a responsibility he took very, very seriously.
‘How long’s it gonna be before we get back in?’ That was Crank, one of the old timers. He was bald-headed and clean-shaven, and he had a shark tooth necklace hanging around his slim neck.
‘A month?’ Wolf said. He hadn’t meant it to sound like a question, but it sure as hell had.
‘You sure?’ Marcus asked. They hadn’t talked timeframes before, and the Prez looked as surprised as anyone else at this assessment.
‘Course,’ Wolf said, not backing down. He didn’t like changing his mind, not one bit.
‘I dunno,’ Rainer said, looking down at the ground. ‘From what I saw—’
‘It’ll be a month,’ Wolf said. ‘Or I’ll eat my cut.’
‘Better get the BBQ sauce ready,’ Baron smirked, ‘because that shit’s dry as Rainer’s sense of humor.’
‘If I miss the deadline,’ Wolf said, ‘it’s ’cause I’ve been hospitalized on account of Baron’s bad jokes.’ The room erupted into laughter.
Fuck, Wolf, you’ve got your wits about you today. Gotta be a first time for everything.
It was only then that he realized he hadn’t had a drink all day. Normally, by now, he’d be mildly juiced at the very least. Last night though, after seeing the setup in the Den, he just hadn’t felt like it. That had carried on to today.
‘Well, good,’ Marcus said. ‘Not so keen on holding club meetings here.’
Wolf understood why. For the time being they were in a shared space, an ex-chapel in the Bronx which a local prayer group had rented out to them for weekly meetings. Of course, the prayer group didn’t knowexactlywhat The Drifters were, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
‘Now, onto something more serious.’ Marcus said. He pulled up a chair and sat facing the rest of the assembled club. The sun must have gone down, because the golden light which had been illuminating the space was suddenly dimmed.
‘We all know that the Death Division aren’t dead and gone,’ he continued. ‘Just ’cause they’re illegal now doesn’t mean they’re gonna stop getting new prospects or running drugs into the city.’
There were grunts of agreement from around the room. Wolf was trying to concentrate, but could barely take anything in. Maybe he should just go back to the bar right now and start clearing it out. He’d given himself an insane deadline, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hit it. Of course, his lodger might be there, but that was far from certain.
‘We’re lucky in the sense that the new mayor isn’t affiliated with the DD,’ Marcus continued. ‘But it’s not like she’s a big supporter ofourcause, either.’
The new mayor, Laura Dodgson, seemed like a decent woman who had no real interest in the shady tussle between the organized crime organizations in the city. Or maybe she did but didn’t talk about it publicly like the old mayor, Solomon White, had done.
‘So, with a little information gathering, and a lot of luck, we’ve come up with a plan. Rainer? Want to take it away?’
‘Sure thing, Prez.’ This was the first time Rainer had addressed the whole MC in his new official capacity. Wolf was proud to see his friend growing into his role. ‘This is big, people.’ Wow, he was milking it. ‘I’ve managed to uncover the location of the Death Division’s drugs lab.’
Okay. That actually was big.
‘It took some time, and a lot of… charm, but I know exactly where it is, and I know that it’s managed by Whip.’
