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Here I sit at the right of the table, taking another drag off my fag, watching the table fill with my brothers. We only go to church when there are important decisions to be made. Today is one of those days. Sometimes it's easy. Other times we are stuck at the clubhouse for days. Today should be an easy day. It's voting me into the top spot. My Uncle has been running things just fine, but it's about fucking time we bring things into the twenty-first century.
Don't think this is like something you've seen on your fifty-five-inch TV. My name is not Teller, but I am the Prince. My Pop wasn't killed by his best friend. Instead, I watched him suffer while the cancer ate at him. I was too young to take over when he took his last breath, so Calen, as my Uncle, took his place, saying when I was ready, he would step down. Well, I'm fucking ready. Do we run guns? Yeah. Drugs, sure. Pussy, you bet your sweet ass we do. We are also upstanding men and women in our community. We raise money for our little town. We are very charitable people. Jhon and his girls handle the candy shop over on main street. Margie handles our pussy, but answers to my mother. Most of us are mechanics by trade. We can tear it up and put it back together with our eyes fucking shut.
I made VP when I was twenty, and I've been busting my Goddamn ass since. That was ten years ago. I'll be thirty in just a few short months. I've sown my wild oats and fucked my way through all the bitches that hang around. I've got a house I pay for, but I sleep at the club. It's fucking lonely in that house. A lot of the guys have their old lady, but I've never met the one I crave. If I don't crave them, they aren't worth my fucking time.
“Saint? You with us, son?”
I cut my eyes to Calen. “Yeah, I'm here.”
He claps a hand against my shoulder. “Let's get this started then.” He nods, smacking the gavel down.
“We know why we're all here. It's to claim your next president. I'm passing it on to my VP, Saint. He should have been in this place long before now. I’ma start with a Yay.”
One by one, there are Yay's around the room until the Nay's start. What the fuck? It's some of the older guys saying no. I don't fucking get it.
“I'm sorry, brother, I don't think you're ready.” Conor, who is Calen's Sargent at Arms, speaks. Where I sit to Calen's right, Conor sits to his left.
“That is my spot. It's been my spot since we lost my old man. I could have claimed it at eighteen, but I fucking waited until I was ready. I've been busting my Goddamn ass for ten fucking years. I spent my adolescent years chasing pussy and riding all your fucking coattails, but this is my Goddamn spot. If you're going to go against me, you better have a damn good fucking reason.”
“You've got so much to learn. You make your decisions so rash. We still need someone that has more life experience than you.”
“Life experience?” I fucking growl. “Mother fucker, I've almost died for this Goddamned club. If that isn't life experience, then what the fuck is?” I take a deep breath sitting back to claim my sanity. I look over at Sully, who is not only a founder but also our Chaplain, and he nods. Just that little reassurance calms me. “Listen to me, brothers, I may not know every aspect, but I'm not in this alone. We're together. It's why we vote on everything. I've got people at my sides to help carry the load. It's a new time, and one person shouldn't do it alone. The President has help from his other table members. As some of you are only patches and not actually sitting in a spot at the table, let me ask, How much of a voice do you really have? Other than a yay or nay? Not that much. It's time to take back control and progress this club forward. That is what I want to do. You have something to say. You will get your say. Whether we all agree or not. Now I know we all have shit we need to do, so let's get this over with and quit pussy footing around with unwarranted bullshit.”
Everyone turns their eyes from me to Conor to see if he will say anything else. Calen nods and asks for another vote, and the Yay's are unanimous. Calen trades me spots with a tight hug.
“We can have a drink really soon. I just need to make some adjustments.” I nod to my best friend. “Monroe, I want you at my left.” He nods back at me and moves to my side. “Lachlan is going to be my Road Captain. Jhonatan can stay the treasurer. I'm not just doing one enforcer as these two are a pair. I think they should stick together. Crux and Drysten.” One by one, they come and stand behind me when the doors open. “Ah, just the ladies I've been waiting on. With what I said about moving this club forward, Emlyn is my VP, and Delia is my secretary. They will be treated with the same respect as any table member in those places. We are no longer brothers. We're family. We have sisters, mother's and Aunts. Everyone will be expected to treat them with that respect.” I smack the gavel down for the first time to dismiss everyone.
The room empties with a bit of clamor, except for my new table members and Sully. “This isn't going to be easy, and we all know we took the first steps at progressing this club. Get your peacocking shit out of the way and say anything you need to get off your chest now.”
Monroe's lip curls as his dark eyes look Delia up to well her tits. “Guessin' this means no more back-alley regionals, huh?”
“Oh, shut it, Casanova.” Delia adjusts her tits. “My eyes are up here.” She flips her auburn hair looking at me. “Now you do realize I'll be taping these meets, right? Girls gotta preserve her manicure and all.”
“Now, I don't know that recordings are a good—”
Delia puts up her finger to shush Sully. “Boy, do you actually think I wouldn't encrypt the fuck outta this shit? Twenty-odd characters minimum, and only Em, me, and Saint get the codes.”
I scratch my chin. For fuck's sake. “Del, Sully may be right there.”
“You wanted me for my expertise. I've got a degree from MIT in computer tech and systems ops. You wanted somebody to lead you into the twenty-first century. Strap in, baby boy, because we have fucking liftoff. Now either let me do what I'm here for or let that lazy ass Darragh back in with his noisy ass Typewriter!” She presses those triple D's my grandmother blessed her with against my chest. See, she and Em are cousins on dad's side.
With my fingers against her forehead, I shove her back. “Shove your tits against me again, little girl, and I'll cut them clean off and let Monroe use them as playthings. Now, you will do well to curb your sass with me. I know you can do the fucking job, but you ain't my momma and—You. Will. Do. Well. To. Remember. That.”
“Saint Columbanus Westmoreland!” My mother's voice cracks like glass at the opera. In my scolding, I didn't hear the door open. “Here I am coming to congratulate my pride and joy, yet what I'm hearing makes me neither prideful nor joyful.” Her platinum hair is tied up so that the black ends pile on top of her head, and the frown on her face makes her bright red lips even more sinister. “I may not like what you are doing, putting these girls in power places, but don't you dare say they should be respected and then immediately demean them in front of their male counterparts. I may not have raised you to be perfect, but fuck, you should at least be Goddamned consistent.”
I pop my neck before standing to my full height. “I didn't say anything to Delia that I wouldn't have said to anyone else. If Monroe shoved his dick against me in some power exchange bullshit, I'd cut it off and let the bitches make a mold of it. Now, before you come in here, you need to remember your fucking place. You're a Goddamned Old Lady. You are not part of this fucking table. You will not come in here and disrespect me again. Everyone here knows how this table runs. Including you. So either get on board and watch your fucking mouth or jump ship.”
Em puts a hand on my mother's shoulder, making her stiffen. “Auntie Bree. Just kiss our Prez, and let's go see about Margie. You know she's gonna burn everything without your masterful direction.”
Mom sucks her teeth, then throws out a hip. “C'mere baby boy, you know momma loves her little winner.”
As I hug her, I look over her shoulder to see the door open again, followed by Calan's head.
“Saint, you're gonna wanna come out here.”
Oh, for fuck's sake, now what the fuck?
