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More murmurs of disagreement and confusion go around the table.
“Fine.” Priest stands and shoots daggers at Acorn. “You want to state your case?”
Acorn sends a nervous glance around the table and then at the other brothers scattered around the room. No one meets his eyes.
Did he assume we all felt the same way but were too chicken to say anything? Does he think he’s going to end up the hero in this story?
He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up six feet under.
Hopper, the former president of the Washington charter and Acorn’s father-in-law, fixes his gaze on his lap and doesn’t say a word. I swear a slight smirk flickers at the corners of his mouth, though. Did he set Acorn up? Is his daughter finally fed up with her unfaithful husband, but too cheap to hire a divorce attorney?
One of our brothers from Tennessee stands. “Tennessee is confident in your leadership, Prez. No need to ask for our votes. You got ’em.”
Brownnoser.
Priest nods, slowly. Almost like he’s embarrassed by the gushing show of support.
I understand Tennessee’s concern, though. They’re the closest charter to Priest’s Mississippi home base. Pissing him off could easily get their charter wiped off the map one day. Priest prefers the slow, methodical type of revenge.
“Have at it,” Priest says. “I’ll leave the room.” He jerks his head toward Blink to follow him but leaves his vice president with us. Great. I’m sure we’ll all feel free to vote our conscience under Niner’s watchful eyes.
As soon as Priest leaves, Pony stands. “What the fuck you doing, Acorn? Ya think you should’ve run this by me?” He says all the right words to show that he’s furious and caught off guard but underneath the bluster, I detect a note of insincerity.
Acorn blinks. He expected his president to have his back.
Pony’s outburst kicks off a confrontation between members of the Washington charter. Two of them edge away from their brothers, making it clear they want no part of this. One stops and leans over to talk to Rooster, who nods quickly but doesn’t take his eyes off the Washington squabble.
Niner backs away from the table, putting his back to the wall where he can observe the chatter. Smart. If he remains quiet, most brothers will probably forget he’s even here. He can gather dirt for Priest and report back.
“Enough.” Rock stands, holding out his arms like a ref trying to break up a group of kids hosting a boxing match in their backyard. “Let’s discuss this like grown men.”
Pony scowls at Rock and opens his mouth to say something.
Wrath slowly turns his head, fixing a dead-eyed glare on Pony. “I wouldn’t,” he warns, his voice dripping with menace.
Huh. Who knew Wrath had an even deadlier tone than the one he uses on us at home when we act up?
I glance over at Murphy. None of the usual amusement he brings to the table at home can be found on his face.
Ice stands and turns the full force of his presidential death glare on Pony. “Is this how you run things out there? Your officers embarrassing themselves in front of the entire organization?” His gaze shifts to Acorn. “Who the fuck let you wear that patch, boy?”
Acorn is either brave or stupid—my money is on stupid-as-fuck. He lifts his chin. “We have serious concerns about Priest trying to put the MC on that documentary show.”
Ahhh. Finally some fucking context. Our charter isn’t thrilled about Priest’s plan, either. Openly challenging Priest isn’t the way to address it, though.
Steer doesn’t stand. Doesn’t need to. He’s big enough to be intimidating from any angle. “You thought our president’s funeral was the appropriate time to whip out your dick and whine about your concerns? Is that how you show respect to Digger?”
“Digger didn’t like it either,” Acorn says. “If anything, I’m the only one here who has the balls to honor his memory.”
Odd way to state your case.
“The fuck you know about what he did or didn’t want?” Steer bellows, standing up so fast his chair tips over, hitting the floor with a harsh thud.
Acorn again looks to Pony for support. “It’s not just the television show. We’ve been kicking more and more money up to National and ain’t gettin’ anything in return.”
“You kidding?” our national treasurer shouts. “Your charter coulda bankrupted the entire organization. We’ve been hemmoraging on money on Washington’s legal bills the last few years.”
I lock eyes with Rock. This could get even more uncomfortable.
Niner steps away from the wall. “New York’s had legal troubles. Virginia tangled with the Feds. Neither of them came looking to National to foot the bill.”
Thanks, Niner. That’s helpful.
Thank fuck Teller stayed home or he’d probably lecture Pony on the magical world of investment portfolios. And if anyone wants to quiz us about our finances, we can claim we don’t know shit.
