Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Priest isn’t finished with his lecture. “It may not seem like it, but this is bigger than our national event or any rally we attend. We’re negotiating to hold the memorial service at the Dashport Center.”
Rooster sits forward and mouths “what the fuck” at the speaker.
“We’ll have to agree to metal detectors at each entrance. Anyone causing trouble will be removed immediately. There will be severe consequences for misbehavior.” Priest stops for a long, noisy breath. “You’re responsible for each of your members and guests, Rock.”
Rock’s jaw clenches. Probably a good thing Priest’s all the way in Mississippi.
“Don’t get twisted, Rock,” Priest says as if he can see Rock’s reaction. “I’m having the same conversation with each president. Same goes for you, Zero.”
Z rolls his eyes. “Got it, Priest.”
“Rooster.” Priest’s voice turns warmer and almost fatherly. “I expect you to step up here. Set a good example for your brothers from all over.”
Rooster’s eyes widen to half-dollar size. “Uh, yeah. Of course I will, Priest.” He quickly scans the table. “We don’t have any bad apples. New York won’t be a problem for you.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” A loud clap fills the air, like Priest’s closing the book of notes he’s been reading from. “All right. I’ll get in touch when we have a firm date, but I’d say it’s going to be within the next month, so start making any arrangements with your families and businesses now.”
Murphy and Wrath frown at each other. They’ve got a third business partner at Furious Fitness who isn’t affiliated with the MC. Still, it’s hard to make arrangements for coverage when you don’t know the fucking dates you’ll be gone.
I glance at Ravage and Bricks. They’re who I go to when I need coverage at Crystal Ball. Guess it’ll be Malik’s time to shine. Might need to pull in Remy or Griff to help with security while I’m gone. Working at the strip club’s always been a hard fuck no from Vapor, but maybe I can ask him to help out at Furious.
“Got more calls to make,” Priest says. “Looking forward to seeing everyone. Thank you for your time.”
“Thank you,” Rock says.
Everyone around the table mutters a “thanks,” “goodbye,” or “see you soon.”
Rock stands and swipes the phone off the table, flips it closed, and tosses it in a drawer. He returns to his seat and rests against the back of the chair, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Wrath gets up and unplugs the speaker, wraps the cord around it, and stores it in the closet.
“Sorry, Rock,” Rooster’s gaze slides between our two presidents, “Z, I didn’t mean to overstep.”
Rock holds up a hand to halt Rooster’s apology. He’s never held grudges and certainly not over petty stuff. “I think your assurance helped end the call, so for that, I thank you.”
Rooster drums his fingers against the table. “Not sure how I feel about him specifically calling me out, though.”
“Yeah.” Murphy glances at Rock and smirks. “Should I be offended or something?”
A hint of a smile flickers over Rock’s face. “No, be thankful.”
“It’s just because you’ve been down there recently,” Z says to Rooster.
“I hope that’s all it is,” Rooster grumbles.
“He saw my pretty face plenty,” Jigsaw says. “I was right by Rooster’s side—”
“You mean up his ass?” Murphy asks.
“Look who poured himself a cup of extra-strength fuckwad this morning,” Jigsaw sneers in Murphy’s direction.
To take some heat off Jiggy, I raise my hand. “I spent plenty of time with Priest too. Don’t take it personally.”
Z’s mouth twists into a devilish smirk. “I think Priest likes Rooster because of the celebrity he can bring to the club’s name.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Rooster grumbles, sliding his hand over his face.
“We’ve got you, brother,” Wrath says. “No one’s letting Priest use Shelby for publicity.”
Damn, Wrath’s awfully protective of Shelby. I hope like hell that’s going to extend to Emily one day.
“Do you guys realize how big the Dashport Center is?” Rooster asks. “That place holds expos, trade shows, and smaller concerts. What the fuck is Priest planning?”
“Shelby ever play there?” Z asks.
“Not with Dawson, that dude sells out arenas.” Rooster shakes his head. “But holding a memorial service there is fuckin’ wild.”
“Maybe he’s doing it there because they can handle the extra security needs?” Hustler suggests.
“All right,” Rock says in a louder voice meant to capture our attention and shut our collective mouths. He bangs his gavel against the table to quiet any lingering chatter.
“Obviously, this is a mandatory run,” Rock says, casting a glance around the table. “No excuses.”
“Uh, boss.” Sparky raises his hand.
“That includes you,” Rock warns before Sparky can even ask his question. “You need the miles.”
We’re all required to ride a certain number of miles every year to keep our patches. As road captain, I’m the one who should be keeping track of that. But the math is simple. Sparky never leaves the basement, so it’s not exactly shocking that he’s coming up short.