by Blue, Jayne
She’s dealing with an awful fucking day that ended with her bruised and in pain and I still can’t keep my hands off? I returned to my room, shut the door, and beat myself up for the rest of the night. It was very clear she needed to see that Great Wolves were capable of being good men. And I showed her we weren’t. Taking advantage of a vulnerable woman, that was the lowest. I was a shit.
Fuck.
And just what was my game? I didn’t spend time worrying about women or their feelings or whatever was going on here.
I had a job to do I was on a mission from my M.C. A mission that could get me killed, and if I fucked up, could bring down this neighborhood.
Doing what my club needed was everything to me. Somehow, doing what Frankie needed had taken a front seat.
I wanted to avoid her, leave, find a new place, but I was no coward. I was still worried about that bruise, and about the ejected Great Wolves coming after her. So, I sucked it up and decided to be sure I saw her before I left for my day.
She was working already. I stared for a moment, before I went into the kitchen. I also listened.
“Look, I’m going tonight, you do tomorrow. You know we have to start somewhere. How about this? I bring all the uniforms, towels, all I have to you, just so say thank you.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about, I just knew she was handling business.
“Okay, cool. See you then. Oh, and if I get Polish Wedding off the ground, we’ll do all the table linens. So, help me out, make sure my flyer is up.”
I walked in as she hung up.
“Polish Wedding?” I asked her.
“We’re famous for them, but a lot of people don’t know how to do them anymore. I own the banquet hall next door. I’m trying to figure out how to make it into a wedding venue, so we throw traditional Polish weddings.”
“Got it, you know I’m looking for a space.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we can rent your hall for our meetings? I’m here to make sure the Cranks and the Dannys of the world stop terrorizing the neighborhood. I actually am here to set up a legit business in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, well, you might not want to advertise you’re a Great Wolf. I’m only renting to you because Dziadzia is an old man.”
She stood up and I remembered why I had decided to show my face.
“Your back, is it okay?”
“Yeah, all better thanks.” And she walked out into the bar: the conversation was over. I deserved that.
It was time for me to do my damn job here in Stickney Forest and stop fucking with this woman’s life. Hopefully, if I had the Great Wolves up and running in the right direction, the byproduct would be better business for Frankie. She didn’t need my conversation. She needed action.
I went out to my bike, whipped out my phone, and called Thorn, my new number two.
“You know this place better than I do, where’s a place to meet?”
“Well, you burned down the club, so that’s out.”
I was glad I’d done that. This crew needed to start fresh.
“We got the following options: MMA Gym, mechanic shop, and security. And I think security is a hard sell since no one trusts our cut right now. We’re not going to be able to charge for shit. Anyone good with a wrench in the crew we have left?”
I had to assess who we had and what the Stickney Forest Wolves had to offer.
“We have a few grease monkeys. I don’t know a damn thing about running a gym.”
“I do, you will. What we need is a place in the heart of the commercial district here.”
I would prefer a place in Kaminski’s line of sight, but no one in the club needed to know I was a fucking pussy all of a sudden, distracted by a woman.
“You know, I think I know a place. I’ll text you the address.”
“Good, be there in an hour. And make sure whoever we got left knows too.”
“Got it.”
I got a good vibe from Thorn. It gave me hope that the club had a few decent people in it, and that it had just been outnumbered by assholes. The only way to keep them now though, was cash. No one was going to stay with the Great Wolves if they didn’t have bread.
I called Sawyer.
“Hey, brother! Good to hear from you. What’s going down, you need backup?”
Sawyer was willing to send a crew. I knew that. But what I needed was something a little different.
“No, I think what I need is a draw for an MMA gym, a big name, and I’m going to be withdrawing cash to start up.”
“Got it, we are going MMA gym?”
“Yeah, this neighborhood needs a place for its wayward youth.”
“Ah, well, if anyone knows about wrangling wayward youth, it’s Ridge Callahan!” Sawyer said with a laugh.
I listed what I needed. It was good to talk to Sawyer. We ended the call and it was about time to meet. I looked at the address Thorn had sent.
I looked around the commercial block and there it was.
Three stories, corner of the block, going in both directions, and a few letters still in place that read, “Woowrts.”
This might be exactly the spot we needed. For a lot of things.
I walked over to the building and dialed the number on the commercial real estate sign.
“I’m interested in buying the old Woolworth’s building in Stickney Forest.”
There was a coughing noise on the other end.
“Uh, oh, uh sorry.”
I had no doubt that there were zero offers on the table for this place.
“Uh, that’s listed at one-point-two million. May I ask who you represent?”
“I’m from Great Wolves, Inc. The offer is three-hundred-fifty-thousand, cash. I expect an answer by the end of the day.”
“Uh, well that’s significantly lower than the…”
“I’m in this neighborhood right now, standing in front of the building. There’s a lot of work that needs done, the crime rate here is off the charts, and there are abandoned buildings on every single side. You’re not getting one-point-two and if you’re not quick about getting an answer for me, you’ll lose the three-hundred-fifty. Call this number with a yes by four and you’ll have the cash by close of business. I’ll take possession tomorrow.”
“Uh, your name, sir?”
“Ridge Callahan.”
I ended the call. I didn’t like fucking around. If we were going to make a dent in Stickney Forest, we needed a base of operations, and this would be perfect. Of course, that depended on a lot of shit going right. If it didn’t, Sawyer was going to have an old department store to unload.
I was going to make sure everything went right.
Later, I met the crew in the loading dock area behind the building. There were weeds growing up through the cracks in the pavement and vines crawling up the side of the building.
I counted a dozen Great Wolves.
“Okay, official, I’m the Prez, Thorn is my veep. I’m also secretary and treasurer until I get a handle on this crew. But I need a Sergeant at Arms. Muscle is going to fucking important.” The fact was, the dozen or so members here were tough, I could see that. And muscle wasn’t going to be a problem. I wasn’t the beefiest one here, and that was saying fucking something.
Everyone in the crew looked to Brogan, the one who’d stood up against Crank. There was something deep there, menacing, exactly what we needed.
“Brogan, you’ll need to think tactically, how to protect this place, your brothers, and you’ll make sure our meetings go like they’re supposed to.”
Brogan looked around at the crew, he nodded. He wasn’t about to make a speech, I liked that.
“Got it. I accept.”
“I’m going to need your one-percenter patches.”
There was a rustling about that. I knew there would be.
The one-percent patch signified they were outlaws. It stemmed from the American Motorcycle Club announcing that ninety-nine percent of all M.C.s were law abiding. Outl
aw clubs, ones like The Devil’s Hawks and the Dark Saints all proudly claimed that they were the one percent outside the law.
Great Wolves may do shit off book, outside of the law, and even against the law, but it was for a great good. They’d have to see that, or they wouldn’t be a GWMC.
“Here’s mine.” Thorn had torn his patch off and handed to me.
“How are we going to make legit money?” This came from Kase, who had not removed his patch.
“First this building. The GWMC national is buying it and we’re going to use it as our new base of operations.”
“What operations?”
“We’re going to open a gym, for the random kids around here who are causing shit and headed for Crank. The Dannys of the neighborhood who think punk ass is the only way to go.”
“A gym. How the hell we gonna make bank off a bunch of near homeless kids?” Kase asked and it was a good question. So, I laid out the answer.
“This is going to be free, for the street kids, but the paying customers are going to get trained here for MMA.”
“Uh, we don’t know dick about that,” Kase said, and he was right.
“I’m going to bring in a big name and a hire three new trainers. The MMA crowd needs a gym in Chicago, we’re it. They’ll be our first stream, but then we’ll set up and provide security for fights.”
“Fight promoting, that’s good, I like that.” Another biker, Cochran according to his patch, was starting to see the possibilities.
“But that’s not all. We are going to start with free security. Make sure the businesses and people around here get used to us patrolling.”
“Free, what the fuck, man?” Kase wasn’t convinced yet, but that was fine, as long as he did what he was told.
“We’re also going to do some bounty hunting, for quick cash.”
“What the fuck?” Kase said.
“Yep, cleaning up Stickney Forest, one dead beat at time, will help us earn respect and cash.”
“That makes good sense.”
“Yep, and we’re going to unload the stashes. So, I need to know, is there anything else besides what we torched last night?”
Again, there was a shifting, an unease.
“Crank has a house full of about a dozen whore’s he runs.”
Fuck.
“Okay, that’s next.”
I had to think about how to deal with that.
“And here’s our oath. I am going to jump you all from probie, which you should technically be, to full member of this provisional charter. You fuck up once: you’re out. Now, let’s have those patches.”
One by one, the one-percent patches were thrown in the center as I stood and watched.
“Good, now here’s who we are. Repeat after me.” I recited the Great Wolves Oath”
“I swear, with my blood and my bike,
To be loyal to my brothers in the pack,
To put the club first,
To keep my mouth shut,
To do what’s right,
To respect my elders in the club,
To protect all who live in Great Wolves Territory.”
“We’re brothers now. Let’s show the South Side who the fuck we really are.”
There was a lot of backslapping. There was skeptics too, and distrust, but I hoped there were good men here, and that the Great Wolves had just gained a chapter worthy of the name.
Just like I wanted to be worthy of the woman who may not have drawn me here but was no question the reason why I wanted to stay.
Ten
Frankie
The fact that he didn’t say a word, didn’t look at me any differently, and didn’t mention last night was either great or awful.
I couldn’t get a handle on how to play things with Ridge Callahan. And why should I try to play them at all? I was supposed to be focused on the business and my neighborhood watch.
I did not have time to be analyzing this shit or worrying about it.
And, honestly, even though he’d come to my rescue, he was still a gang banger. Maybe a different flavor of gang banger than Crank or Danny, but still, he was in gang. That had to be bad.
I just wished my body didn’t respond to him like he was the only thing on the planet.
Ugh.
We didn’t do breakfast at Kaminski’s, except for Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and Easter, so the upside of working here, especially now that I had Lamont, was a little peace and quiet in the morning.
Lamont got in first, usually right after going to Hyde Park or 61st Street Farmer’s Markets to get the best ingredients we could afford for our menu. I wish Busia could have met him; she would love him so much. The last three cooks were terrible, so I did all the shopping and I was constantly fixing what they tried to serve. Lamont was a chef, no question about it.
I felt a little overwhelmed with all the things I’d agreed to do: the neighborhood watch, trying to re-launch the banquet all, and—until this moment I’d forgotten—figuring out street food for the Polish Festival. We’d have a cart outside, along with other traditional Polish vendor. I felt like if we did the Polish Festival right, we could find new customers and we could lure people back to the Stickney Forest. Of course, enter Lamont, again.
“Look, we’re trying to market the banquet hall, so let’s serve the dishes we know we’re going to feature at the hall.”
“Yes, but they have to be portable.”
“You need a list of all the paper goods. I’ve already got the meat ordered for the kielbasa, but you’re going to need to triple order a few things.”
Lamont put the list in my hand and realized how grateful I was to have him, for the millionth time.
With his help, I felt real hope that my visions of authentic Polish food in the oldest Polish neighborhood in Chicago could really become a draw. It could be the first step in revitalization. I really needed to take it down a notch, or two though. Right now, I had lunch to serve. Saving the free world might be hard to manage along with bussing tables if Baby Paul didn’t get here.
I called the kid, three times, and got not answer. I left a message.
“Baby Paul, you’re on the schedule. I am going out to patrol the neighborhood with the watch. I NEED you to get in here.”
I didn’t have much hope that the message would produce the busboy. I wanted him to succeed. I didn’t want to fire him, but he was making it hard. I turned to Lamont.
“Okay, so let’s take on the lunch crowd.”
Crowd was an overstatement. I bussed tables, helped Terry and Sherry, and in between checked off the million things I needed for the neighborhood stuff I was doing.
The day was turning into early evening when Dziadzia moved from his booth to the bar.
“Did you check the account today?” he said, and he was smiling ear to ear.
“No, can’t say that I did.” I was immediately suspicious. I didn’t need him doing banking anymore. He wasn’t trustworthy with money or his memory these days. He had given his banking information to a random call that said it as the IRS. Thanks to Char we’d caught it before he’d been robbed blind, but he was an easy mark for scammers these days. So, I was now in charge of banking for him and the bar.
“Why don’t you call and check it?” He seemed very pleased with himself. I started to get worried, what the heck was he up to?
“I don’t have to call Dzia, it’s on my app.” I waved my phone at him and he gave me a whistle to indicate how impressed he wasn’t.
I opened the account app and, for the first time ever, there was more money in my bank account than I expected, not less.
“Dzia, where did this three-grand come from? Did you win a bet? Mug someone?”
“Ha, business savvy, my girl.” He pointed to his temple with his finger, bent from arthritis in his knuckles.
“Where is it from?” I was alarmed when we didn’t have money and now, I was alarmed because there was money.
“You were suspicious of our new tenant; well you were
wrong. He’s got big bucks and he isn’t good like I am when it comes to negotiating. I charged him big and insisted on first and last month’s rent.”
“Dzia, you’re telling me he’s paying a grand a month for a two-room studio above a bar in this rundown neighborhood?”
“I know, must not be that smart.” Dzia laughed and was clearly enjoying his new role as international tycoon.
The whole thing stunk. Where in the heck did a biker get access to that kind of cash except unless it was selling drugs or whatever other kinds of crimes the Great Wolves perpetrated?
Whatever had happened between Ridge and me was a bad idea. I had stopped it once and then he had. Which still smarted, but fine. It was a gift to me. I didn’t want to be mixed up with his life. It was good nothing went further than it did.
Except I couldn’t stop thinking about how close we came, how I felt with his hands on me, with his mouth pressed to mine. I felt a heat roll through my body.
No, no! I needed to keep my guard up around Ridge Callahan. And maybe I needed to dig a moat. And build a wall.
Because I wanted him, that was the hell of it. I also wondered about him. Where was he? Was it possible his cash wasn’t dirty? I didn’t want to know, but I needed to find out why he had agreed to pay so much. I needed to kick him out even.
Except it was about six, in the middle of the dinner shift, and I had work to do. I supposed that was the best plan. Don’t let Ridge Callahan throw you off your game.
I was going to patrol for the first time, for my brainchild, the neighborhood watch. I didn’t have the time to worry about why Ridge Callahan was throwing money at my Dzia.
Stay on course, Kaminski. Don’t let the sexy biker mess with your head.
That was the plan.
“Hey, Frankie, you call the cops?” Sherry asked me. She was looking at the door.
“What? No.”
There was Officer Hayden Parker. Straight, clean, and totally legal: he was the type I should be associating with. This was good. Hayden Parker was good. Ridge Callahan was just a sexy distraction.
“Hi there, Frankie. I thought, for your first patrol, it might be good for you to have an escort.”
