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Carmelo immediately stopped and gazed around. He was impressed. It looked more like a chic urban bar rather than a dingy MC clubhouse. Polished concrete floor. Hanging chandelier made out of recycled clear and green glass beer bottles. Upcycled vintage furniture. Big leather sofas, obligatory pool table and bar. It was clean. There was a good sound system installed, currently acoustic guitar music was playing. Could he smell sandalwood and bergamot?
Colt eyed Carmelo’s face and seemed pleased with his obvious awe. “Yep, this bit’s pretty much ready to go, we’ve just finished painting it, got the bar fully stocked, got the furniture in…”
A gaggle of incredibly scantily dressed, heavily made up women sat around one of the tables, it looked like they were having some sort of boardroom style meeting. Colt saw Carmelo staring.
“We’ve got a new business, the old strip club in town, we’re giving it to the twins, they’re going to get it back on track, refurbish it, open it again. These girls are some of our new adult entertainers.” Colt nodded to them as he and Carmelo passed.
“Strippers?” Carmelo questioned, raising his eyebrows.
Colt smiled and shook his head. “Oh, they do so much more than strip.”
Carmelo rolled his eyes. “Great, just what the town needs, sounds like more trouble if you ask me.”
Colt looked at him with a deadpan gaze. “Then it’s good no one asked you,” he replied. “Anyway, the twins will make it a success, don’t get your panties in a twist, pig, they know what they are doing.”
Carmelo sighed. The twins. They weren’t trouble, they were double trouble. They had showed up in town a few months ago and raised hell already. Like parading the Rio Carnival into a quiet church coffee morning. Yes, the twins were infamous in town. Rita and Rafe, fraternal mixed race twins who were thick as thieves together and had been welcomed into the MC like long lost cousins. Ridiculously good looking, both of them, half the town wanted to either be them or be with them. Getting any form of acknowledgement that you existed from either was a sign you’d made it big. He remembered Rita had blown him a kiss once from her perch on her custom bike as she’d waited outside a shop sucking a popsicle and he’d driven past in his cruiser, staring at her. He’d nearly come in his pants.
“Well, it’s been quieter than I expected with you in town, Colt, I have to admit. I know you’ve taken on new members, but you’re more like a construction company that rides bikes really. You being in town hasn’t been the carnage I thought it was going to be,” Carmelo teased.
Colt looked at him evenly. “If that’s what you think, then I’m running a very successful MC. Below your radar, at least.”
Carmelo fumed silently.
“What’ll it be?” Colt asked. “To drink?” Colt nodded to the bar, where what looked like a thousand liquor bottles of all colors and sizes twinkled under the spotlights against a background of mirrors.
Carmelo’s eyes caught and lingered on one of the top shelf whiskeys. It was a well stocked bar, he’d love to try a glass of some of the labels they had. But he shouldn’t, even though he had a day off tomorrow, he needed a clear head for this.
“Oh, no, thank you, I’m here on business. Well, actually, not official business… that is, I mean....”
“Look pig, do you want a drink or not?” Another man yelled out. He stood behind the bar, wearing the MC leather jacket, or ‘cut’, as they called it, wiping a glass.
He was younger than Colt and Carmelo, but no less sure of himself. Carmelo’s eyes dropped to the name tag below the club’s insignia, on the guy’s pectoral. Ash, his name tag said. Sergeant at Arms, his position in the club. Sergeant at Arms was normally the biggest, meanest, toughest guy, the one who kept everyone else in check. This young guy looked like the slightest guy in the MC so far compared to the others.
Carmelo gathered himself. “No drink, thank you,” he replied more decisively.
Colt indicated to a bar stool, but Carmelo stayed standing. The other guy behind the bar, Ash, shrugged, poured whiskey into a glass for Colt and came out around the bar. Carmelo tried not to feel outnumbered. He didn’t know much about Ash, except he had been put in jail for helping Colt escape the old MC, when Colt was on the run from them. Ash had lent them a car to escape but it turned out his family used it as an opportunity to get Ash locked up and out of their hair. Colt had put the town’s local law firm on retainer to represent the MC in all things legal, and Ash had walked out of jail a few months later. Carmelo was usually unfazed by miscreants like this. They were both acting up today, Colt and Ash. It was because Carmelo had come to the clubhouse unannounced. His mistake.
“You think you can just pop on over for a drink?” Ash chimed in. Colt crossed his arms, a neutral look on his face. Carmelo felt it was some sort of test, how he reacted to this young upstart called Ash. “You think you can just call in, wearing that uniform?”
Fuck, Carmelo hadn’t thought of that, it was because he was wearing his uniform. That’s why they were being off with him. He’d just wanted to try to get this issue resolved, and coming straight from his shift at the station had seemed like the best course of action. Carmelo tried to remain undaunted. “Look, we’ve got an urgent situation that I wanted to talk to you about as soon as-”
“We can’t let that go, I hope you realize?” Ash interrupted again.
Carmelo glanced sideways at him, determined to keep his cool. He continued stoically, “I really need to get your view on this issue we’ve got, your help-”
“Oh, our help!” Ash piped up again. Colt didn’t even blink but stayed still, silent, staring Carmelo down. They had a good double act going, Carmelo had to hand it to them.
“You come dressed in that pig outfit to ask for our help?” Ash mocked.
Carmelo was beginning to lose his patience now. He turned to Colt. “Can this guy leave us to it, do you think?” Carmelo snapped.
Colt raised an eyebrow but Carmelo spotted a faint smile on his face. “Ash, calm down,” Colt said quietly. And true enough, Ash crossed his arms like a moody teenager, but said nothing else.
Carmelo took a breath and got down to business, talking directly to Colt. “We’ve got a guy in custody, we picked him up last night. He skipped a red light, passed out, skidded off the road-”
“In a car?” Colt asked, curious now.
“No, motorcycle, some sort of custom thing, you’d like it-”
