“How are they being successful in their endeavors?” I ask the whole room. Someone here has to know something.
Butcher clears his throat, “Alli told me that she saw one of Marcus’ guys handing out packets with our logo on ‘em. The people who used ended up overdosing. If you ask me, he’s got his hands on some contaminated shit and branding it like ours, trying to fuck with our business.” Butcher is in his late forties I’d say and handles a lot of the hiring when it comes to getting runners on the street to dispense our product. In doing that he gets to be acquainted with quite a bit of prostitutes. One of them is named Alli and if you ask me, he has a soft spot for the chick.
“What a piece of shit,” I grumble.
“Why don’t we think about divvying up our eggs, instead of keeping ‘em in one basket?” Ravage suggests.
“I like that idea. What do you have in mind?”
“There’s tons of shit we could do. My thing is why don’t we start shooting adult films? We have clubwhores, who are free talent. They wouldn’t put up a fight as long as they’re getting some cock. Plenty of us brothers wouldn’t mind fuckin’ ‘em for the camera, so why not?”
“The equipment, don’t we need some sorta set up?” I ask.
Ravage sneers, “I might have a professional grade camera for some amateur stuff I was shooting with Dina. You know, before we called it quits.” Dina, that was his ex-fiancé, the woman he almost made his ol’ lady.
“Alright, let’s call this potential endeavor to a vote. Who wants to go down this route, say aye?”
Ayes break out across the room and much to my own surprise I agree with the men and think this could be smart. If one of our businesses is going down the drain due to some rivalry, it doesn’t make sense to keep all the eggs in the same basket. Best we divide them and potentially make a profit elsewhere. “Okay, so we have the girls here, but we’ll need more. Petros recently squashed two whorehouses. I know Heavy over in D.C. took the women in that rival MCs sisters name. Knowing Petros, he’s probably been watching after the girls but wants nothing to do with ‘em. Ravage, can you give him a call and see how many ladies are there and if they’d want to send them our way?”
“Sure will, Prez. Fuck, I think I’ve seen some photos of ‘em too. They aren’t no ugly bitches.”
“You pullin’ our legs right now?” Judge asks Ravage, who snorts in response.
“Since when have I ever joked about good pussy?”
“Enough! I need a meeting with Marcus.” I declare, making sure everyone has heard me clearly.
Mammoth clears his throat, “Prez, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“It’s not a good idea, it’s a great one. The only way we’re going to be able to solve anything is if we start squashing whatever this problem is between us. Butcher, I take it you’ll contact one of the guys on the street to go up to Marcus’ boys and have them pass the message along.”
Butcher nods, “You got it, Prez. I’ll let you know something as soon as I do.”
“Great. Church is adjourned. In the meantime, make yourselves useful and think about other ways we can get out of the hole.”
“But we’re about to get into some holes, and lots of ‘em.” King chuckles. All I can do is shake my head and laugh along with the boys. I’d best get used to jokes like this, ‘cause they’re gonna be what I’m hearing for a long time to come.
Chapter Eight
“Struggles are required in order to survive in life, because in order to stand up, you have to know what falling down is like.”
~Curiano.Com
Hart
1 Week Ago . . .
It’s almost the middle of April and somehow white, frozen pieces of water are flowing from the sky above me. How is this even possible? Lemme just add riding a bike in this shit isn’t exactly ideal. My hands are about frozen from the wind and cold, my ass is numb from being on my bike the last few hours and I’m about ready to down a bottle of fireball just to warm me up.
One of the positives of riding a bike is how we only use a small percentage of gas compared to other vehicles. I didn’t necessarily need to stop every now and again, but I did. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t veering off course and heading in the wrong direction. Luckily for me, I was still on the right path. I thought about pulling off to a small bar a few miles back from where our Baltimore clubhouse is, but it didn’t make a lick of sense. So, I kept riding.
Within a matter of minutes, I saw the clubhouse in the distance and pulled into one of the garage bays next to the massive clubhouse. Their club is unique as hell considering it used to be an old roller rink. I wanna say it’s about eight thousand square feet between the rink and the garage bays. Have a feeling when I walk in there and really get a feel for the joint it’ll be even bigger than I thought.
I turn off my bike and prop up the kickstand before I remove my helmet. Just as I dismount my bike, I see a long-haired buff dude and a small, blondie come strutting out a door. From my cut they’ll know exactly who I am so I’m not worried about that shit.
“Ay Prez, I’m Hart.” I raise my hand and wave to the dude, but then I realize the blondie has a cut on. I could’ve sworn no one had an ol’ lady here. Am I missing something?
The blondie walks over to me and when she comes closer, I see her officer patch sewn on her cut. It flat out says ‘President’, and I think I’m seeing shit that can’t possibly be true. When in God’s name have we ever had a female Prez? “I’m your Prez, Hart. Name’s Gamble. This here is our club enforcer, Mammoth.”
“Shit, sorry. Uh, Rancid didn’t tell me that.”
Gamble snorts and rolls her eyes, “Of course he didn’t,” She crosses her arms and gives me a stern stare, “Look I’ll be frank with you, I’m not dealing with any bullshit so if you’ve brought some get back on your bike and go back to wherever it was you came from. We have enough problems here and we don’t need any more.”
While she’s a little abrupt, I don’t mind it. She’s a straight shooter and hell, those type of women are hard to come by these days. She stands in front of me saying something but I’d be lying if I said I heard anything she just said. I’m too busy staring at her, trying to figure out where the hell I know her from. Something about those icy blue eyes of hers are recognizable in a way, I just can’t put my finger on it.
Out of nowhere the lights go off and we’re standing in the pitch-black darkness, but they’re quick to turn back on. Now I remember everything about this woman. It’s as if the lights turning off and on was the idea switch in my head. Rancid brought this girl out to the club one time. I bet it was at least five years ago. She was skinny as fuck. You could see every bone in her body and I could tell he was doing more than only abusing her physically. The way she wouldn’t look anyone in the eye or so much as breathe in their direction told me that.
Seems to me like the girl’s come a long way. “Rancid sent me here knowing I had problems. Won’t lie to you and say I don’t have any, but they’re handled for the meantime so you’re in the clear.”
“Fine, just don’t bring anymore shit our way. I saw the way you just looked at me. If you’re wondering if I was Rancid’s little pet, I was, but I’m not anymore. That clear?”
“Yes ma’am,” I reply.
She starts to talk but immediately stops to cringe as she hears my respectful response. “Okay, I don’t know where the hell you’re from but based on that thick accent I’m gonna say Jersey or somethin’. I’ll warn you about this once, but don’t you ever call me ma’am again. I’m in my twenties. I’m not some old, nasty woman.”
“There’s not a nasty thing about you, baby.” I use some of the charm my father taught me to lay it on this girl. But, I just had to let her know there isn’t anything disgusting about her. If anything, this woman could be a Victoria’s Secret model. Fuck, if I wouldn’t love to see that.
I picture her in a sinful red little lace thing before my mind shifts to what her alabaster skin would look lik
e with a sky-blue cotton number on. Fuck, it makes it hard for me not to bite down on my lip and palm my cock right now.
Suddenly I’m jolted into the present and I feel an agonizing pain running from my nose through my cheeks. I put my hands up to my nose to figure out what happened and when my hands come back into view, I see blood covering them. “Did you just fuckin’ punch me?”
“I sure did. No one calls me baby, ever. The only man who could call me that is dead. You got it?”
“Shit, you’re crazier than the women back home!” I think about the one-time Janine Ricci chased me out of her father’s house with a butcher knife after she caught me flirting with her best friend, Victoria. I still have the scar on my back from where she threw that axe of a knife into my back. Fuck, she must’ve been a Viking in a past life for her aim to be that good.
Gamble sticks her hand up and grabs my nose, pinching me like I’m some little kid she can bully on the bus. “You’re right, I probably am. Since I was fifteen I’ve been playing by the rules man made for me. I’m not doin’ it anymore. I’m tired of being a pawn for Rancid, and I sure as hell won’t be sexualized from some new piece of shit who’s only coming into my club because he went and fucked up what he had goin’ back with Petros. We’ve all heard the rumors. You fucked his girl.”
“I did not! Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Why doesn’t anyone believe me? I didn’t fuck his girl. I’d never betray my brother like that. Not that it matters anymore. Petros is happy now, so can’t we give it all a rest?” Gamble releases me, sending even more pain through me. Fuck, if she was a man I’d topple her ass to the ground and show her not to touch me like that.
She puts her hands up, “You know what, I really don’t give a shit. Mammoth, will you show our new member to his room? I have things to do.”
“Sure, Gamble. Hart, why don’t you follow me.” Mammoth, the Tarzan looking man tells me.
Chapter Nine
“Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.”
~George Addair
Gamble
1 Week Ago . . .
I sit back in the studded leather booth and look around the club. While this might not have been what any of us wanted, we’re starting to accept it and move forward. Every night I think about Dog and how he would’ve handled situations differently than I. No matter what I know I’ll always compare myself to him and his leadership style, even though we’re two different people.
In the last week Ravage has been in contact with Petros and arranged transport for the group of women from the whorehouse to come out here. We gave them two options, they could come work for our club as porn stars, start new lives and do work behind the bar or in some other household sense. Most of the girls who are coming want to do porn, while a couple would prefer to get out of that life considering it wasn’t their first choice. They’ll be here in a couple of days and in the meantime, I’ve been looking over our blueprints with King, who is our treasurer but also has experience in construction. Judge has come to sit in on our conversation as well. We’re getting eight girls from Petros, and six out of the eight are going to be in the adult film industry.
Right now we have Razz, Jugs, Peaches, Cheryl and Electra as our resident clubwhores. They have five small bedrooms right off the main area by the front door. Based on the blueprints we have another three rooms where we can fit one girl to a room each. So, that’s a total for the five that are already here, plus four of the new girls. One of them will be getting my old room since I’m now in Dog’s so that’s eight. King and I have been trying to figure out where we can work more room for the girls down here and not have to put them upstairs with the full patch members, but it’s looking to be difficult.
“We all know we’re broke, but we have a little capital. We could buy that old Mexican restaurant next door that’s been vacant for well over ten years. It foreclosed, remember? I’m betting the bank will be willing to take anything for it.” King states.
“Judge, where are we going to find the money?” I put my hand over my head, trying my best not to let the stress of this all eat away at me. Even now I think Dog made this easy. If I know one thing though it’s that I can handle this. My father did it, so it’s in my blood whether I like it or not.
“Well, I’m really glad you asked that because I had an idea hit me earlier today.”
“Should I be nervous?”
King cackles, “Depends. I have a way to get us some cash. You know Hatchet from Miami?”
I think about being a smartass bitch but decide to play the sarcastic dame instead. “Who?”
“The Prez of our Miami charter . . .” Judge responds, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Yes, of course I know him. What do you think I am, an idiot?”
Instead of replying to my direct question Judge picks up where King left off, “Hatchet has been known to lend other clubs money when they need it to keep their heads above water. If you want, we could reach out and see if he’ll help. Honestly, I’ve done a good bit of thinking and if we offer him a percentage of all the heroin sales, I’m thinking he’ll take it. He isn’t a greedy bastard. He’d wanna help us out if he can.”
I mull over the idea and nod my head, “Alright. How do you wanna handle this?”
“Isn’t that your job?” King chuckles, adding a bit of cockiness to his voice.
I pull my cell from my back pocket and scroll through my contacts until I find Hatchet’s name, tap on the screen and listen to the annoying song he has playing instead of a typical ring tone. After about fifteen seconds he finally answers.
“Gamble, this better be good. I was in the middle of getting my dick sucked.”
“Please, feel free to continue. I’m not stoppin’ you from your sex life. Regardless I’ll keep this short and sweet for ya. I need your help in the financial terms. Baltimore is being fucked in the ass when it comes to money. We’re broke and considering we’re taking those girls from Petros we’re running into another issue. We don’t have enough room for them. So, if you’ll lend us 150k I’ll purchase the rundown restaurant next door and convert it into more rooms for clubwhores plus the adult film studio and use the extra cash to keep our heads above water. In the meantime, we’re some of the only charters who deal with heroin. I’ll give you a cut of sales.”
Far too much silence passes by before I hear a moaning in my ear that I didn’t really need to experience. “Hatchet!”
“Shit, yeah that sounds good. Gimme 5 percent and we’ll call it a day. I wanna be paid back in full and gimme the 5 percent for three months as an interest payment so to speak. You know I’m not a greedy fuck. I’ll get my treasurer to wire you the money tomorrow morning. Just send me over your bank account details.”
“Thank you, Hatch.” I call him by the nickname so many of the others call him and end the call, looking over to Judge and give him a thumbs up.
“I’ll go contact a few construction companies my friends own in town and call up the agent for the restaurant. My guess is they’ll call us back tomorrow. We’ll get a move on this pretty quick, Prez.”
“Awesome. Thanks.” King and Judge both slide out from the other side of the booth and I see Hart come walking down the stairwell from upstairs. I put him in the smallest room we had. Originally, I was supposed to show him where his room was, but when he decided to be a sexist tool, I figured I’d let Mammoth handle it. Looks like Mammoth took him to the right room from the grim expression on his face. He walks down the stairwell slowly and heads toward the bar where Jugs is getting ready to serve him with a beer.
Ugh, I can’t even think about that right now. I’ll just sit back here sipping my hot ginger tea and try to let the stress of all this chaos finally calm down. It’s had my stomach doing backflips makin’ me feel like I was gonna throw up all day. At least I’ll be able to rest a little easier tonight.
Chapter Ten
“You’re not the type of girl who settles. Keep not settling.”
~U
nknown
Gamble
6 Days Ago . . .
I wake to the sound of the sliding door to the patio being opened or closed. For the last month or so it’s screeched a bit and I haven’t had it fixed yet. I yawn and stretch out my arms while I open my eyes and look around my room. While it’s dark, everything seems to be in place. The same floor to ceiling windows are in my room and Ravage’s across the hall. It’s a feature specifically for the Prez and VP of the club.
I realize I saw a movement in the armchair next to the left side of the glass and pull my gun out from under the opposite pillow, pull the safety back and clear my throat. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’d best get the hell out of my club.”
“Wow. You’re gonna give me a chance to skedaddle? How kind of you.” A strong, masculine voice shoots back at me. All of a sudden the lamp on the right side of the chair is turned on and I see a familiar face.
The one and only Marcus Brown.
“When I wanted a meeting with you, I didn’t mean this.”
“I bet you didn’t. We’re not naïve kids anymore, Gamble. As much as you don’t want to admit it, we’re enemies now. Both of our Dads are long dead and look at us now . . . ruling their kingdoms.”
“It might’ve gone down a certain way for you, but I’m not following in my father’s footsteps. I’m essentially managing a clubhouse for a man I hate more than anything else.” Marcus and I have known each other since we were toddlers. Way back when our fathers had a treaty in this city and we spent most of our childhood at either his house on the west side of Baltimore or here at the club. For some reason I feel like I don’t have to be so fake when it comes to chatting with Marcus. However, I need to cut that out. I’m sure the years have changed us, and with it, so have our priorities. I have no choice but to treat Marcus like the enemy he is to the club especially after his actions.
Bet On Me: Royal Bastards MC: Baltimore #1 Page 5
