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Rock turns his shut-the-fuck-up glare on Rooster who shrugs. “Just stating facts, Rock.”
“It can’t only be about age,” Rock says.
“That’s where that common-sense thing Wrath mentioned is important,” I finally say. “And you have a good business sense. Again, besides Priest, Ice is the only one who maybe comes close.”
“Squiggy sure as fuck can’t handle National,” Rooster says. “He couldn’t even handle that microphone in his big butter fingers.”
Everyone chuckles.
“Rooster would be a good national VP,” Murphy says. “A lot of charters are already familiar with him from his summer visits.”
“No, no,” Rooster protests. “You’ve got more experience, Murphy. More years in the club overall, too.”
“Christ, can you two kiss each other’s asses later?” Grinder says.
“I don’t think it’s a mutual stroke-fest,” Teller says, glancing at Murphy with a smirk. “They’re playing ‘not it.’”
Rooster crosses his arms over his chest and sits back in his chair without confirming or denying. Murphy lifts his chin at Rooster and the two of them chuckle.
A deep frown settles over Jigsaw’s face. “You’re ignoring the fact that if Squiggy can’t handle Tennessee, there’s a good chance Priest tags our favorite motherclucker in to run that charter.” He slaps Rooster’s shoulder. “He might not even be here to worry about it when this all goes down.”
Silence falls over the table.
Rooster bows his head, chin to his chest like he’d prefer to disappear, but he doesn’t deny Jigsaw’s theory.
“You really thinking of leaving New York?” Z asks.
“No,” Rooster says. “But Priest pulled me aside before I left and floated the idea.” He lifts his head and stares Z straight in the eyes. “I told him I wasn’t interested. Got no plans to leave, Prez.”
Wrath turns to Rock. “See? NY is like the training camp for presidents.”
“If Priest doesn’t go willingly, you’d have to rein in that nomad squad,” Rooster says.
Rock holds his hands in the air. “All right. Enough. I’m not plotting to overtake National. If Priest steps down or gets voted out—which doesn’t seem likely since absolutely no one voted with Washington—then we’ll worry about gathering support and who goes where.”
“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” Wrath points out. “Have a plan.”
“I hear you, Rock,” Z says. “But you realize anyone who wants the job probably shouldn’t have it. Anyone gunning to be president is power hungry and eager to serve their own interests. You’ve always sacrificed for your brothers, not the other way around.”
“Priest started out that way,” Grinder says. “Not sure where he’s at now.”
“Power corrupts people,” Sparky points out.
“Or power attracts corruptible people,” I say.
“Power corrupts,” Wrath says, “if you only surround yourself with ass-kissers. A good leader keeps people in his circle to tell him when he’s an asshole.”
“Great.” Rock claps his hands and shoots a glare at Wrath. “Then I’m all set.”
“I wouldn’t use the word asshole,” Z says. “But I have no problem telling you when you’re wrong.”
“Anyone else?” Rock asks, ignoring Z but sending a questioning glance around the table at the rest of us.
“One last thing.” I raise my hand to get Rock’s attention, hating that I’m doing this after such a heavy discussion. I nod at Teller. “I need to get Emily on one of the organization’s insurance plans.”
He raises an eyebrow, waiting for some context.
I blow out a breath, wishing I’d timed this better. “She lost her job. She needs the health insurance for herself and for Libby.”
“Ah, all right.”
“That’s so bogus. Human beings shouldn’t have to worry about that shit,” Sparky pipes up.
“Oh, Jesus,” Stash mutters.
“What?” Sparky reels back and stares at his buddy. “It’s true.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s barbaric not to give people basic stuff without bleeding them dry.”
“Settle down, Bucky Birkenstocks,” Teller says to Sparky, then focuses on me again. “You care if I do it under Crystal Ball?” he asks. “It’ll be the easiest.”
Emily’s going to love that. “That’s fine.”
“You should do it under Furious,” Wrath says. “Then I can funnel another salary through there.”
Teller frowns like he’s visualizing our complicated corporate maze. “Let me think on it. Either way, I’ll get it done,” Teller promises.
“Thanks, brother.” I hesitate. Ah, fuck it. “I lied, I actually need one more thing.”
Rock nods at me to go ahead.
I sit forward, looking at each of my brothers. What I want to say won’t apply to the ones at my end of the table. But I still want everyone to hear it. “I’d like to have Emily and her sister up for one of our Thursday family dinner nights or a Sunday breakfast.”
Grinder slowly turns his head and stares at me.
I shrug. “What? That was the entire point of building the new clubhouse. So we could have family here.”
“And that’s been working out so well for us,” Wrath mutters.
“Seems like that’s your department, bro,” Teller says.
“I’ll start saying no to people,” Wrath threatens. “Don’t worry, welterweight.”
