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Ravage stares at him but keeps his mouth shut.
I catch Rock’s eye and he shakes his head.
“All right.” Rock smacks the gavel down. “Charity events are club business.” He sends a pointed look Rav’s way. “Showing a good face to our local community is every brother’s responsibility.”
“Rav doesn’t have a good face. Just that sorry one,” Z says.
“Ladies love my face.” Rav sticks out his tongue.
“What charity are we donating the funds to?” Rock asks, ignoring the interruptions.
“The help-homely-bikers-get-laid project?” Hoot suggests.
“Watch it,” Rav warns. “You ain’t that far away from your prospecting days.”
Hoot holds up his hands in surrender. “Kinda weird you assumed I was talking about you.”
“How about a local food pantry?” Sparky says, ignoring Hoot asserting himself. “Willow says they’re all hurting right now.”
“Good one.” Rock glances around the table, checking that everyone agrees. He leans over to Teller and taps the notepad in front of him. “Club will match whatever we raise.”
“Okay.” Teller nods.
Once he’s satisfied with our chosen charity, Rock lifts his chin at Z. “Want to name a second organization?”
Z sweeps his gaze over his guys and Rooster raises his hand. “How about Dream Makers? Shelby works with them to visit kids in the hospital, but they also have a separate charity that helps families directly with housing and stuff while the kids are in the hospital getting treatment. She says they’re always looking for help. Plus, they’ve got homes in both Union and Empire.”
“Yeah, that’s a good one,” Z says.
“Sounds perfect,” Rock adds. “Thanks, Rooster.”
“No one’s gonna be bitchy about receiving money from an MC, right?” Ravage asks.
Teller shrugs. “We can donate under one of our corporate entities.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of showing a good face to the community and all that?” Butcher asks.
Rock sits back, I think pleased that one of Z’s guys said something dumb for once.
Z lets out a long sigh. “Some good press would be nice but I’m also fine with it being anonymous.” He shrugs. “We should do some good where we live. Even if we don’t get credit.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say. “I already opened my business to—”
“Delinquents who remind you of yourself?” Z finishes.
“Fuck off,” I growl. He’s probably right but what-the-fuck-ever.
Hustler raises his hand. “I’m down with the charity stuff. But what are we doing at night?” He turns bright, deviant eyes Dex’s way. “Can we celebrate at the new clubhouse? Maybe some of the dancers can come over when CB closes.”
“Yeah,” Dex answers slowly, “I’m sure after a night of strenuous work and fending off handsy old farts, they’d love to come entertain you.”
“Fuck yeah.” Ravage punches his fist in the air, then points down the table at Rock. “You promised me Halloween, Prez. I’m putting an epic party together.” He stands and scans the table, meeting each of our eyes. “I expect every brother to be there. Even the neutered, married ones.”
Grinder has been silent during all the fuckery. But now, he sits forward and narrows his eyes. “Who’re you calling neutered?”
Ravage backs a step away from the table. “Brothers and ol’ ladies are invited,” he says in a wounded tone. As if the lack of an invitation was Grinder’s issue. “I want everyone to see the new clubhouse.”
“If we’ve already seen it, can we skip it?” I ask, raising my hand to increase the asshole factor.
