Page 65 of The First Cut

“Bossy.”

“President,” he reminds me with a wink before he nudges me out of the room.

I curl up on the sofa and scroll through my options before settling on Chinese. The pizza place nearby is gross, and the Chinese reheats well the next day. I order a bunch of things for us both, figuring he might want to eat before he leaves, and place his phone on the coffee table.

I lean back and listen to him moving around the kitchen, cleaning the counters just because I asked.

All this time, I’ve been reading about fictional men, wishing they existed in real life. Now I can’t help but wonder if I might have discovered the unicorn of men after all.

Chapter Twenty-One

Hannibal

Iwalk into the clubhouse, pissed-off that I need to be here instead of with Lola, but I know what’s expected of me.

After making sure she was fed and putting clean sheets on the bed, I reluctantly left her curled up with a book-sated smile.

Pushing through the back door, I’m hit with the loud chords of “Sweet Child of Mine.” The room is crowded, but people are subdued, and I can’t say I blame them. A lot has happened in a short span of time, and a change in leadership is never easy.

Nods are offered, and coy smiles from the women as I walk past brothers and club girls. I ignore them all, still pissed over the whole Lola thing, and head to what is now my office.

I shove the door open and look around. The room is dark and uninviting, kind of like my personality. It’s just an office at the end of the day. I couldn’t give a fuck what it looks like. There’s no window, but the spotlights are bright enough to make up for it. I walk across the faded and worn black carpet to the large dark wood desk and sit in the chair that looks like it might be the most expensive thing in the room. There’s a bar on the far wallteeming with various bottles of alcohol. Beside it are six chairs stacked on top of each other, like someone cleaned up after an impromptu meeting. There’s a TV on the wall above it, and on the wall to the left, there’s an abstract piece of art all done in grays and blacks that probably cost a few hundred dollars but could easily be recreated by an over-exuberant toddler.

The desk itself is the dominant furniture, and it’s littered with crap. I’ll have to go through it at some point. A knock at the door has me leaning back and kicking my feet up onto the desk.

“Yeah,” I call out. The door opens, revealing Byte, with Elmo and Ferris right behind him.

“Pres.” Byte inclines his head. He has a laptop in his hand and a bag slung over his shoulder.

Elmo and Ferris grab three chairs between them and set them up on the other side of the desk.

I wait for them to sit before I start. “I know this is gonna take some getting used to, not just for you guys, but for me too.”

“Honestly, Hannibal, with the shitshow Khan’s been running, I’m glad you’re here. Sure, there might be some who need more convincing, but they’ll come around, especially when they realize just how fucking dirty he was,” Elmo states.

I smirk. “Can’t usually say people are happy to see me.”

Ferris laughs. “You’re a scary motherfucker, and everyone knows it. Figure that’s exactly what we need right now.”

“Time will tell. You guys want to fill me in on everything I might have missed? G has told me a bunch of shit, but I’ve been a little preoccupied getting shit together for the move here. Anyone tell you I have a kid?”

They all look shocked as shit. I can’t help but laugh at their reactions.

“Never been a part of her life, other than financially. But her mom is dying, and she has nowhere else to go but foster care. I won’t lie, part of me thinks that might be a better option thanme, but…” I let my voice drift off. I still haven’t got my head around it myself.

“There are some great foster families out there, but for every good one, there are two bad ones. We might not look like it right now, but we’re a tight family. We’ll be exactly what your kid needs,” Ferris adds.

“See, I’d like to believe that. But then I see the way Lola's treated, and I can’t say I buy it.”

“Lola’s not a kid.” Byte points out.

“No, but she’s carrying one.”

None of them say anything to that.

“She’s my old lady. I won’t tolerate shit when it comes to her. I’m telling you three now so you know the score. But the rest, I’m going to give them enough rope to hang themselves.”

Byte sighs. “You can’t take on everyone that’s pissy with Lola.”