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CHAPTER

TWO

Brick

I’m now at my usual table, three pitchers of fresh beer and frosty mugs in the middle, shooting the shit with Axel, Declan, and Banshee. I spot Rooster heading in our direction and grin. “Hey, brother, what’s up?”

“Not much, Pres, just thought I’d get started on the list of what folks want in their mini fridges,” he replies, looking over at Axel and Declan. “Any particular beer? Water? Soda? One of them mini coffee pot things that uses pods for morning coffee?”

I chuckle at the looks on their faces. “We know there’re going to be a shit ton of folks here, and while I’ll need to be present for most of it, that doesn’t mean that y’all or anyone else won’t wanna get away for a bit. Might as well be comfortable while you’re doing it. The televisions are hooked up as well and we left a channel guide by the remote.”

Now both of them are laughing. “Fuck, this is better than any five-star hotel I’ve ever stayed at,” Declan finally gets out. He pulls out his wallet despite seeing me shake my head in the negative and says, “Yeah, man, because I’ve got expensive tastes. Don’t mind chipping in because this shindig is gonna cost you a fucking mint. I like Dos Equis, either Smart Water or one like it, fruit punch Gatorade, green Monsters, and medium roast coffee pods. No creamer, no sugar.”

“Got it,” Rooster states. “How about you, Axel?” he asks, briefly glancing at his cut.

“Except for the beer, which would be Natty Lite for me, everything else is the same,” he says, pulling out his own wallet and tossing more money onto what Declan already laid down.

“No problem. Gonna see what the others want as they arrive then head out, Pres.”

“‘Preciate it, brother,” I state.

As the night wears on, a few more brothers from other charters arrive, including the crew from Tonopah Valley. Standing, I walk over to where Grim, Rael and Shadow stand, their very presence creating an aura of danger in a room full of badasses. “Grim,” I state, my hand out. He looks at it before pulling me in for a bone-crushing hug.

“Glad we were able to make it out,” he says before the other two repeat his actions.

“I am as well.”

“Did you tell your club about us?” Rael asks, a smirk on his face.

“Just that some of our brothers from other charters had abilities that were outside the norm,” I advise. “Figured they’d need to know that considering who the fuck knows what’ll happen while everyone’s around, y’know?”

“Probably wise to do that,” Grim intones.

Before I can say anything else, Rooster rushes over, introduces himself and once again, gets their orders for their rooms. He shakes his head when Shadow tries to pull out his wallet and says, “I’ve got this.”

As he leaves, Grim starts laughing. “I know he’s technically a Prospect since all of your club is until Jameson does his thing, but suspect he was fully patched with yours, correct? If half the folks who wanted to prospect for the Royal Bastards had even a drop of his attitude, they’d all make it.”

“He’s a good brother. Was out west a while back and ended up saving another chapter’s brother’s ol’ lady when he was still just a prospect. Nothing doing but he was voted in when he got back home because fuck, to put his life on the line as a brother is one thing but to do it when he was a prospect and for another club? Yeah, he proved his loyalty that day, not only to us but the Royal Bastards as well.”

“Who the fuck ordered snow?” a voice calls from the front door. Glancing over, I see Jameson and Scorn stalking through the clubhouse doors, both covered in snow.

“Well damn, I wasn’t expecting that,” I murmur, heading toward them. Once the back clasps and handshakes are out of the way, I notice noise from outside so head out, grabbing my beanie from my pocket to slide onto my head.

I watch as brothers who aren’t used to snow ass around, making and flinging snowballs at one another. “Brick?” Brew asks, coming alongside me. “Got the garage open for any of the brothers to pull their rides out of the elements.”

Banshee lets out an ear-piercing whistle, silencing all the fucking around my brothers are doing, and states, “Since this weather was unexpected, we’ve got a place for your rides, just follow Brew. Otherwise, I’d suggest you tarp your bikes, brothers.”

Almost as if everyone’s been together all their lives, I watch the prospects who came from the other chapters start tarping some of the bikes, while a few of the brothers crank their rides up and head to the garage.

I watch the ones who have moved their bikes go back to assing around in the snow, then start chuckling when I see that one of my guys has built a pretty decent sized snowman next to the door, complete with a ‘Prospect’ cut that says ‘Snow’ on it. “Where the fuck did you get one of those?” I finally ask once I can catch my breath.

“Brew had it made, Pres,” Jingles states. “He’s obviously never going to patch in, but we all thought it’d be funny as hell seeing as we get snow like we do.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a good laugh.”

Scorn lets out a whistle then yells, “Need all the Roanoke Prospects in the clubhouse now.”

Ah hell, either Jameson’s not amused by our fair-weather prospect, or it’s showtime.

Thirty minutes later, with all of my brothers and me doing our best not to grin from ear to ear, we’re officially proclaimed Royal Bastards. Looks like we’ve all got some sewing to do, since we got our bottom rockers, plus our name patch and if we’re an officer, our position patches. As the beer and whiskey continue to flow, I find myself sitting with Jameson and Scorn, as well as Banshee and Rainman.

“You’ll get that info when we get back home,” Scorn advises Rainman. “It’ll be easy to set up an automatic transfer every month, that way it doesn’t get forgotten if shit’s going sideways, you know?”

I’m glad they’re covering some of this shit. While the buck technically stops at my doorstep, the brothers I’ve put in position know their shit so they’re better served asking the questions so they can appropriately handle the club’s shit.

“Yeah, I prefer doing autopay when possible since we’ve always got money coming in from the businesses. One more won’t make much difference. Dues stay here in our chapter, correct?”

“Yeah,” Jameson states.

“Jameson, wanted to see if we could get in on the new guns y’all are running. We’ve had some interest shown from some contacts we’ve worked with previously, but I haven’t let them know one way or another if we can assist them with their needs,” I say during a lull in the conversation.

“Get me the numbers and we’ll talk,” he replies before throwing back a shot. “Just wanted to say, really like the legacy wall you guys put together. Shows the kind of club you’ve always been and now, you’ve got the whole of the Royal Bastards behind you.”

“Appreciate it. My dad wanted something to reflect where the club started from, plus he wanted to be able to honor the brothers lost along the way. The guys and I felt that with this transition to the Royal Bastards, our old cuts needed to be up there as well. I’m sure someone will get a group photo to put up now that we’ve got our new cuts and shit,” I say.

Just before he can say anything else, the clubhouse door flies open with the Ankeny, IA chapter rushing through, Voodoo at the front of them.

“Brother, we need to talk, but we’ve gotta go. Now.