Jake
Halley gave me the go-ahead for the engagement plan the day before we had our end-of-the-month meeting, which was perfect timing as far as I was concerned. I looked around the room, noting who was there and who wasn't there. Of course, most of the older guys would have my back: they'd seen how I'd risen through the ranks, from a dirty street-rat to Frank's right-hand man. They respected me—some of them a bit grudgingly, albeit.
It was the younger ones that I'd have more of a problem with. I didn't really command respect with many of them, especially not the ones who were ambitious and just a little older than me. And with Max in the room, there was no telling how that faction would break down.
For a moment, I silently considered Max Cordell, Frank's son.
By birthright, Max should be the one inheriting leadership of the Devil's Route MC. But Frank had nixed that idea a couple years ago, when it had become clear to everyone that Max's impulsiveness was really a hazard to the club. There were too many botched missions, too many foolish slip-ups, and the authorities had started really pressing the club, in a way they never had in all the time that Frank had been in charge. Frank had turned to me to step in and get things back to normal. He trusted me, and we were closer than he and his notoriously ill-tempered son were.
Max, of course, had never forgiven me for that, and I wondered how that would affect the announcement that Halley and I were engaged and that we needed to use club resources to protect her and our son. There would, undoubtedly, be a vote — because that's how things were always handled when club resources were in the mix. Max would vote down anything that I wanted, but I didn't know how many people would go along with him.
Towards the end of the meeting, Frank nodded over at me, and I stood up. “I have some business,” I said, folding my hands behind my back and presenting a strong and confident front. “I'm engaged.”
There was a quiet pause, and then a couple of the older guys broke out clapping, while some other people gave wolf-whistles or cheers.
“About damn time,” Chris said loudly. “Is there a woman in this city who you haven't slept with?”
There was raucous laughter at that. I held up my hand, though, before everyone could get too far into celebratory mode. “I've got a son as well — Cole. He's seven.” That sobered some people up. “I just learned about Cole, and … well, I'm going to do right by them. But there's apparently some trouble with Halley's ex-husband...”
That brought silence to the table. “So, another man's been taking care of your son for seven years?” Max jeered.
“I didn't know the kid existed,” I said defensively. Then, I relented. “But yes. He's apparently a drunken, abusive piece of shit, though. Halley served him the divorce papers last week, but now she's terrified that he'll come after her and—”
“And you want us to protect her,” Max surmised.
“Let the man talk,” Frank said, a sharp rebuke, and although I appreciated his standing up for me, I winced a little, wondering how that would further widen the gap between me and the younger generation of bikers, many of whom had grown up with Max.
Max stood up angrily, ignoring his father. “No, listen everyone. We have much bigger problems than Jake's latest whore and her abusive husband. Are we forgetting about the fact that Emilio Alvarez and the Holy Flames MC are encroaching on our territory?”
“We've had a truce with the Flame for years,” Bryce said, rolling his eyes a little. At least that was one younger supporter that Jake could always count on to be at his side.
“They've been encroaching on our territory for months now,” Max insisted. “First, they started doing their drug-running in the same area as ours, but with all their fucking ineptitudes, this is really just drawing heat to our guys, meaning that we either have to move out or risk being busted. And then lately they been squeezing our arms buyers, which–”
“What the hell does this have to do with Halley and Cole?” I interrupted heatedly. “Yeah, we all know that that's going on, but—”
“Rather than using our resources to protect your little slut and her offspring, we should have every man we can working against the Flames.”
“And just what do you suggest we do?” I sneered. “We've been fighting back against the Flames. Why do you think their guys keep getting busted and our guys keep ending up clean? Anyway, one or two guys isn't really going to make a difference there.” I turned to the group at large. “Look, I'm not asking for a full army to protect her or anything like that. I'd just like one or two guys there, when I can't be there, mainly during the days, when I'm at the shop.” I cracked a smile. “I'd do it myself, but I don't trust Bryce to take over for me!”
Bryce snorted, and a few other guys chuckled. I'd left Bryce in charge of the shop in the past; that was never a problem.
“It's really just until the divorce is finalized and everything goes back to normal,” I insisted. “It's not forever, just until things get a bit less heated.”
“I think we should take a vote,” Frank said, before Max could say anything else. “All those in favor?”
To my surprise, most of the group raised their hands. As expected, Max was the main, sulking dissenter, and a couple of his close friends voted with him purely out of principle. But it seemed that my good work for the club was beginning to pay off, and they were beginning to go along with my decisions. I had no doubt that that would help in the long run.
For now, I smiled up the table at Frank and nodded gratefully towards him for giving me the seal of approval.
“You're going to regret this,” Max snapped, and I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to the table at large. “Just wait until we find our arms supply totally cut off — until our main source of income is gone, because the Flames have taken over everything. Just you wait until then.”
A couple of the other men rolled their eyes at his antics, but for the most part, he seemed to be totally ignored.
“Well, I think that's all of today's business, then,” Frank said, and the room began to empty.