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Now’s not the time.
Focus.
Did Loco agree to a meeting time? Most of Downstate was here anyway, so it’d make sense if we were meeting with Loco today. Not sure that called for all of us to sit at the table earlier than normal, though.
My brothers are more boisterous than usual as we wait outside of the war room. I scan the living room several times. Except for Rock and Murphy, every Upstate brother is here. Z seems to be the only missing member from Downstate.
I elbow Jigsaw’s side. “You get a hint about why we’re here so early?” Jigsaw’s so far up Rooster’s, his VP’s, ass, that he must know something.MyVP doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.
He glances at Rooster, then leans in close enough to hit me in the face with a minty wash of whatever the fuck toothpaste he used this morning. “Digger went to the big highway in the sky. Priest’s calling all the charters to talk about arrangements.”
Holy fuck. “Shiiiit.”
“Yeah.”
Wrath opens the war room doors and shouts for us to get our asses to the table. Brothers are rowdy, loud, and don’t seem to be aware of what happened.
While everyone’s taking their seats, Wrath hands Rooster an older, triangular-shaped speaker, something you’d expect to find in a boardroom, not a biker clubhouse, and Rooster places it in the middle of the table, checking underneath for wires. Wrath checks a burner phone and sets it in front of Rock’s chair.
The volume in the room drops a notch. Behind me, Wrath and Rock’s low voices seem to be working out something. Z slaps my shoulder on his way to his chair.
Grinder drops into the chair next to me. “How you doing, Dex?”
“All right. Serena and the baby come up with you?” Emily would probably feel a lot more comfortable with Serena here today.
“Not today.” He slides a look down the table at Z. “Plannin’ to head home when we’re done here. Unless Z needs me to stay.”
“All right.” Wrath’s hands slap together louder than a clap of thunder. “Settle the fuck down.”
Rock walks to the head of the table. Head up, shoulders back, stone-faced, but he still looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world. Instead of sitting in his chair, he curls his hands over the back of it and sweeps his stony gaze up and down the table.
“Thanks for coming to the table earlier than usual and in an orderly fashion, everyone.” He taps one finger against the chair. “We had some unfortunate news this morning. Digger, the former president of our Deadbranch charter, passed away yesterday.”
Murmurs go around the table. Digger was mostly well-liked throughout the organization and in the larger MC community. He probably should’ve retired as president a few years ago, but otherwise was a decent guy.
“What are we doing for him, Prez?” Bricks asks.
Rock’s hands tighten on the back of the chair. “Well, Priest’s going to call in a few minutes and let us know. But Digger wore that president patch for a long time and was a brother even longer. Even though he retired the gavel not that long ago, the whole organization’s going to show him the respect he earned.”
I take that to mean we all better get comfortable with a trip to Deadbranch in the near future.
As much as I love my club, danger surrounds MC life. Not every brother makes it to Digger’s age. A president’s life expectancy is even shorter than the average outlaw biker’s. So the desire to show our respect by celebrating Digger’s life will be strong.
I’m going to have a lot of work to do to get ready for this trip. It’ll be my first major club ride since I stitched this road captain patch onto my cut. I glance down the table at Jigsaw, three seats away. He dips his chin as if he’s thinking the same thing. At leasthisfirst trip as RC was a low-pressure vacation both of our charters took to Texas together. Everything aboutthisvisit to Deadbranch will be intense.
As much as I’d like to take Emily with me, it’s not an option for an event like this. Not this soon in our relationship.
The burner phone rings. All the chatter and questions cease.
Rock answers. With his free hand he motions for Wrath to do something with the speaker.
“You’ve got both New York charters at the table, Priest,” Rock says once everything’s working right.
Priest clears his throat, the sound exploding through our long, narrow room. Rooster jumps up and adjusts the volume. He waits, his hand suspended above the speaker until Priest begins talking, then sits.
“Morning, everyone. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But yesterday we lost our good brother Digger, outta the Deadbranch charter. As a lot of you know he was president for a long time, only handing the gavel to Squiggy a couple months ago.”
“We’re all really sorry to hear this,” Z says.
