Devin
“Come to fuckin’ order!” Our Sergeant of Arms, Tristan, banged his fist against the broad wooden table emblazoned with our emblem, Wicked Bones. The logo was a skull with flames around his head, holding a scythe. He was grinning. Whenever I saw the emblem, I couldn’t help but grin, too.
Growing the Wicked Bones was so far, the biggest accomplishment of my life to date. I’d grown up in different towns around California. LA was nothing like them. It was a fantasy world. When I started Wicked Bones with a couple of kids I knew from around town, it made my life pretty fuckin’ fantastic. Tristan, Troy, and I had been friends for years. And then they really stepped up to the plate. Tristan was the best Sergeant that I could think of, and I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else behind me than Troy. He was hard as nails and had a sharp mind. I may have been the leader of Wicked Bones, but Troy had been the brains of the club from the beginning.
“Y’all!” I yelled, looking out at my men. “Shut the fuck up. We’re here for a meeting, not a damn social hour!”
Troy nodded. He glanced around the room, growling under his breath like an animal. Finally, his gaze came to rest on me. “What’s up, boss?”
I sighed. “Took you long enough,” I shot back. “We’ve got some issues, folks.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my packet of cigarettes. As I lit one, I looked at each and every one of my men. They were good guys. Sometimes they’d stray a little too far from the beaten path, but overall, I knew I could trust them with my life.
“What’s going on?” Troy leaned forward as I tossed the pack of smokes to him. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. “Something bad?”
I sighed. “I didn’t wanna be the one to bring this up. I was really hoping that I’d have a chance to turn things ‘round before I had to mention it, but yeah, shit ain’t great right now, guys. The decision to cut back on the drugs and gunrunning is really hurting us. Right now, we’ve only got about two thousand in the bank after paying our bills this month, and that don’t count towards anything that might come up.” I paused and ran a hand through my unruly dark hair. “We gotta think of something.”
“What about getting back into guns?” Tristan leaned over the table, his muscular arms bulging. “That was really sweet. Tons of money for not much work.”
I nodded. “I’ve thought about that,” I said. “But the cops are still cracking down hard on all the clubs around here. Shit, the Green Demons lost their leader and sergeant last week. Both are going to the big pen for years, probably five to ten at this point. We can’t take that risk right now.”
Tristan snorted. Another one of the guys, Marlo, leaned close. “Boss, what if we do it real careful, y’know? – Make sure we don’t get caught.” He chuckled deviously, and some of the other guys started snickering along.
“I can’t take that risk,” I said. “We lost our contact over at the LAPD. Officer Beatty’s gone now, and we won’t be able to pull someone close like we did with him for a long-ass time. We gotta start taking care of ourselves, and that means putting the Bones first.”
Troy nodded. “What about close-in work?”
“You mean pushing drugs to those college kids?”
Troy shook his head. “No,” he said patiently. “I mean body-work. Guarding, maybe a little protection.” He raised his eyebrows. “We’re in LA, after all. Aren’t there tons of rich people who need that shit?”
I sighed. “I wasn’t exactly imagining doing this kind of work at my age,” I grunted, “but if you think it’s a good idea.”
Troy stared at me. “Devin, man, you’re the boss. If you don’t think it’s a good idea, we won’t do it. That’s all you had to fuckin’ say, man. Trust me, I won’t fight you on this.”
I mulled it over in my head. Living in LA or LaLa Land as I called it, had its perks. There were always tons of gorgeous babes, kids who wanted to get high, or immigrants looking to buy guns, but sometimes, I felt like I’d had enough of all of it. Sometimes, I thought about what it would feel like if I sold everything I owned and moved into some little cabin up near Oregon, or some shit like that.
I banged my gavel on the table and looked out at all of my men. They were waiting for me to answer with solemn looks on their faces.
“Does anyone else have any ideas?”
I waited in silence for one of the men to speak up. The room was so quiet I could have heard crickets outside, but the only sounds reaching my ears were the sounds of Troy puffing on his cigarette and Tristan stretching in his chair, making his leather chaps creak against the wooden seat.
“No?” I asked, looking around again. “Y’all think getting into body work is a good idea?”
They nodded slowly. One of the new men, Pauly, nodded. “Yeah,” he grunted. “I think it’s a real fuckin’ fine idea. I wish some hot actress would hire me,” Pauly added with a smirk. He closed his eyes and growled. “I’d fuck her so good she wouldn’t even notice if anyone was trying to rob her blind.”
“We gotta do this right,” I said firmly, slamming my fist down on the wooden table. The Wicked Bones symbol stared up at me, emotionless. “We can’t fuck this up. This is the kind of thing that could ruin our reputation if we let it, guys. We can’t let that happen. Not now.”
“So, it’s a go?” Troy looked at me.
I nodded. “It’s a go,” I said. “Y’all better start advertising your services. We’ll get someone to make a website, and we’ll put up cards in all the talent agencies around town. Figure we can each turn a profit on this. We’ll find someone who needs a big lug around to watch his or her back. I wouldn’t even say no to some freelance guard work at this time.” I glanced around the room and stubbed my cigarette out in the skull-shaped ash tray in front of me. “If any of y’all fancy working in a bank, or some shit, I bet that can be arranged.”
Troy grinned. “Actually, boss,” he said with a grin, “I already got someone for you.”
I waited as he slid a manila envelope across the table towards me.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Someone you’re really gonna like. Trust me on this one,” Troy said as he grinned again.