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I leaned into Mushu. “He’s still so dreamy. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”
“He’s not gay.” Mushu glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, with a smart ass closed-mouth grin.
Okay, haha! I get the joke. I stood up and raised both of my hands. “Yeah, yeah. I’m new. Name is Johnny—Johnny Wayne and I’m here to-,” I pumped out my pelvis, “Fuck shit up and all of your girlfriends or wives if you got ‘em.”
Mushu pulled me down. “Stop being an ass. For your information, girlfriends and wives are called old ladies.”
“What the hell? No way. I swear if I make it out of here alive and marry Dallas, I will not be his old lady.” I crossed my arms and ankles, stewing in a sea of annoyance. “My father could’ve told me all of this. What else do I need to know?”
“Let’s go talk outside.” Mushu rose from his seat. “Um, VP. I’m going to take Mr. Wayne outside to discuss some rules with him in private. He’s in fighting mode and needs to cool off.” I followed Mushu outside, making sure I had as much swagger as these men could handle. The second we stepped outside, he lit into me. “What are you doing, Char? And what happened to all of your hair?”
“One question at a time, Moosh. I am infiltrating both clubs to find out who shot my father.”
His mouth gaped open, and he tossed his hands up in frustration. “That is a terrible idea. In fact, it’s the worst idea you’ve ever thought of. What if these men find out you’re a chick?”
“That’s degrading and calling women old ladies? What’s up with that? That’s degrading too.” I lifted my finger. “I intend to make some changes in my father’s absence.”
“Not like this, you will. In fact, no, you never will because this is a men’s only establishment.”
“Please, Moosh. You need to help me,” I begged him with clasped hands and a woeful expression. At least I thought it was woeful since I can't see my face.
He groaned, “Fine. But first things first. Get rid of the sock. No man walks around with that much junk in their jeans.”
“Maybe they see it and think, damn, dude must be so big he needs to fold his thing in half to fit into his jeans.” I gave Mushu a guilty smile.
“Yeah, no. We don’t look at each other’s junk. Anyway, calm down the walk. You look like you’re about ready to take a dump. The voice is okay, but don’t call the guys - bruh or dude - it’s lame and shows you’re trying too hard to get on their good side. And last, play it cool with Dallas until the time is right.”
I nodded to Mushu’s instructions and arched my brow. “Are you going to tell me who shot my father?”
He tugged my sleeve as a sign to follow him back inside. “If I knew who shot him, I’d tell you, but it’s something that’s been pretty hush-hush the last couple of days.”
“Well, I intend to find out who and when I do. They will know what my retribution tastes like.”
“You mean, will they get a taste of your retribution?” Mushu asked me while chuckling.
My cheeks blushed at sounding like a complete moron, and I laughed. “Yeah, whatever. You know what I mean.”
Dallas stopped talking when Mushu and I walked back in. “New prospect? Can you come to the front and tell us something about yourself?”
“Um—no, Veep. I’m good.” I answered as I grabbed the chair.
“I wasn’t giving you an option. All prospects do this so we know what you are, who you are, and what you do?”
I chuckled, “What am I? Bruh, I am a dude like all of you dudes trying to get along in this mad, mad world. That’s what I am. Who I am is Johnathan Marian Wayne, err-like the actor, but you dirtbags can call me Johnny.”
“Do you think arrogance is tolerated here?” Dallas arched his brow at me.
“Of course it is. You allow Austin in here.” The entire room lit up with laughter.
“Guys, what do you think we should do with Mr. Wayne for his insolence?” Dallas announced.
“You’re not the prez, are you, Veep?” Dallas shook his head at my question. “Where’s the prez?”
“He’s out of commission right now. We try not to talk about that here. Anyway, where are you from? I hear a slight southern drawl.” He was trying to make light of what happened to my father and inside I was enraged, but couldn’t show it.
“I’m from Texas,” I told him as I crossed my arms over my chest.
“What part of Texas?”
