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“I’m not talking about dealing, Big Man,” Dog said, making a calming gesture. “I’m talking about control. Safety. Security. People are gonna buy drugs no matter what, right? So, we make sure that the drugs coming into New York are pure. We make sure they’re safe. I don’t want people overdosing because of shoddy merchandise.”
There were nods of approval, but, once again, Rainer wasn’t buying it. It sounded very much like a platform for dealing to him. Plus, as far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as a safe drug.
“You’re talking about setting up some kinda drug testing lab?” Baron asked, doubt obvious in his voice.
“If that’s what it takes, sure.”
More positive sounds from the group.
“I want to move this club to where it should be. Respected by the criminal organizations in the city and feared by the cops.”
“Feared?”
There was a gasp. Esme had asked the question.
Dog screwed up his mouth. “Rainer,” he said, quietly, “out of respect for you, I agreed to you bringing your Old Lady to this meeting. But so help me, it’s not okay for a woman to speak at a meeting of the MC. Frankly, I want to ban chicks from The Den altogether.”
Rainer subconsciously made a fist under the table.
“Sorry, Daddy,” Esme whispered. “I just—”
“Don’t worry, babygirl,” Rainer said. His brain was working at a thousand miles an hour. Ahead of him, he saw the trajectory that the club could take. Dipping its toe into shady dealings, before inevitably taking a decidedly criminal path. He had a vision of people leaving, and others — very different others — joining. Slowly, the club would be taken over by people who didn’t care about Littles, who didn’t care about standing up for vulnerable people.
The club had started as a way to give toys and games to needy, hospitalized kids, and to protect vulnerable Littles. It was unconscionable to him that it become a criminal organization. That feeling — that intense, overwhelming desire to protect Esme — it wasn’t just her that he needed to protect. It wasallthe members of the MC, whether Little or Big. Rainer looked at Baron, who nodded at him.
Then, he stood up. There were murmurs of interest around the room.
“Dog, Drifters, I’m standing for President.”
Dog looked as though he had been slapped across the mouth. “Whaddya mean?”
“I mean I’m going to do what Marcus wanted. I’m going to step up to the plate.” He looked at Esme. “I’m gonna accept my fate.”
“Too late,” Dog said. “It’s against the damn rules.”
“Bullshit. There are no fucking rules. What are we, Dog, a bunch of goody-goody girl scouts?”
There was a roll of laughter around the bar.
“So, what’syourvision for the club?” Dog said. “We just roll over and agree to get fucked by every damn hustler in the city?”
“No,” said Rainer. “I don’t know what my vision is. But that’s the point. It shouldn’t be my vision. It should be for the club to decide.” An idea came to him, fully formed, as though it was the most obvious, easy thing in the world. “We’ll ride. Together. The whole club. After I’m elected, we go on the most epic, awesome road trip of our lives. And together, we find the soul of the club, right where it should be. On the road.”
There were cheers, there was applause. And in the middle of it all, Dog, with a face like murder.
“Alright, Rainer. Alright. You can stand. But right now, we need to talk,” Dog said. “Just club members. Without the Littles.”
“It’s okay, Daddy, we’ll play in the romp room,” Esme said. She gestured toward Sophia, Molly, and the four other Littles who were dotted around the room.
As they left the room, Rainer felt something. The hand of destiny, resting on his shoulder.
The romp room was so new that the plastic it was covered in still had that strange, chemical scent. The place was covered in soft play equipment. There was a jukebox for music, and there were disco lights for the dancing.
The original Den, out in Albany, hadn’t had a romp room, so Littles who visited tended to get bored. This place though, was a million times more fun and Little-friendly than the first bar ever had been.
Esme bent at the middle, with her butt poking up high into the sky, and her hands planted firmly on the ground. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling the earth beneath her as it grounded her.
“Then what I do next is,” she grunted, “I left up my left leg.” She transitioned into three-legged dog pose, hooking her left leg over, and feeling the burn in her core.
