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The Wretched Souls are a club out of West Virginia. They’re an older club. Been around since the seventies. They’re one-percenters, but from what we can gather, they keep mostly to themselves.
They got beef with us because they’re not happy the Lords of Carnage set up a club here in Ironwood, given that we’re so close to the border with WV. They’re suspicious that our goal is expansion of our territory into their state. It’s not a poor assumption, given that we’ve recently moved into Florida with our chapter in Jacksonville. There’s been some displays of trying to assert their dominance on their end, including them starting a brawl in neutral territory a while back.
Thing is, our club doesn’t have any intention of expanding into West Virginia. Not right now, anyway. We ain’t got time for a war with a club we got no interest in shutting down. We got enough on our plates right now.
“I reached out to the prez of the Wretched Souls,” Axel tells us. “His road name is Leadbelly.”
“Leadbelly like the singer?” Matthias asks.
“There’s a singer named Leadbelly?” Mal looks at Matthias quizzically. “What band is he in?”
Matthias heaves a deep, disappointed sigh. “You fuckin’ musical illiterate,” he growls. “How the hell have you never heard of Leadbelly? He’s only one of the greatest blues singers who ever lived.”
“Then why the hell is the prez of the Wretched Souls named after him?” Mal frowns. “He a singer, too?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Matthias shoots back, exasperated.
“Jesus Christ!” Axel shouts. “Can we focus here?”
“Sorry, Prez.”
Axel shakes his head, runs a rough hand through his hair. “Anyway. Like I was saying. Rourke and me reached out to Leadbelly and his VP. To propose a peace agreement.”
“What’d you offer?” I ask.
“A gesture of good will.” Axel looks around at all of us. “A pig roast and barbecue. At our clubhouse.”
“We’re inviting the Wretched Souls and their old ladies to our turf, to set up friendly relations,” Rourke says. “And,” he adds with a sly grin,” so we can check out their numbers face to face.”
“We want these guys as friends,” Axel explains. “Or at least not as enemies. Need to let them know we got no intentions of crossing the state line into their territory and putting down any stakes. So we’re inviting them here, to show a gesture of trust.Mi casa es su casa,like that. Hopefully, they’ll return the favor. We want to be able to ride through West Virginia when we need to, without problems.”
“So when’s this little tea party set to take place?” Gage asks.
“Soon. We’ll set it up and tell you when. Keep your calendars open.”
After church is over,I’m the first one up and out of the chapel before I can get any more ribbing or questions about Rory. Out in the main room of the clubhouse, a cluster of club girls are standing around talking by a couple of new couches we just got delivered. Mensa and Weasel, the two prospects, are over there with them. Sassy is saying something to the prospects and points at the couches. They grab one and lift it, then carry it over to set it against the wall.
Sassy looks over and sees me, then detaches herself from the group and saunters over.
“Missed you this morning,” she says in a sultry voice, putting her hand on my chest. “You were gone when I woke up.”
“Had shit to do.” I nod over at the couches. “You girls redecorating?”
“We figure this new place could use more of a woman’s touch.”
“It’s a men’s club, darlin’. We don’t need no lace curtains and decorative throw pillows here.”
Sassy just shrugs and changes the subject. “I heard a rumor about you,” she tells me. “Word’s traveling around that you got a wife.”
“Jesus Christ, this again?” I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Is it true?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It was a long time ago. She showed her bitch face back in town, and the rumor mill started.”
“So she doesn’t mean anything to you?” Sassy asks hopefully.
“Not a goddamn thing. If I never see her again, it’ll be too soon.”
