by Nikki Wild
I learned quickly that every time he smacked his hand down on the bar twice, my new friend here wanted another beer. Between the beers and the game, he was distracted.
That was easy enough to deal with.
His burger came out charred to the core. I checked for the ingredients he wanted, and then brought it out to him with a bed of fries and a bottle of ketchup.
Sparing it only a quick glance, he took a bite with his eyes glued to the screen. When he didn’t immediately lose his shit at me, I figured he was okay.
The other customer had grown tired of his bullshit and asked for the check. The guy got the hell out of dodge, and that meant it was just the Bayou Boy thug here and me.
Alone.
By the time his fourth draft beer was dropped off, the game was mostly over and he was started to focus on me again. His team must have lost, because he was in a filthy fucking mood. I was cutting an orange to replace the slices that went onto his draft beers when he finally spoke up again.
“What’s your name?”
I quickly ran through a number of fake names in my head. “Summer.”
“Summer?” He smiled devilishly.
“Yeah. You?” I turned.
“Rampage.”
“Huh,” I nodded.
“Wasn’t born with it. I earned it,” he proclaimed loudly, his eyes still locked onto me. “On account of how I get going when I get angry.”
It didn’t feel like staying quiet was the right choice here, so I played along.
“Do you get angry much?”
“Not unless I got to.”
Well-spoken, I sarcastically thought.
“How long you been here, Summer?”
I hid my pause by making another careful slice into the orange. “Few years,” I told him. “Came here for school.”
“Lookin’ for someone.”
“No, for school.”
“No, I am,” he sneered evilly.
“Are you?”
“Yeah. All of us are… me, and the boys.”
Didn’t like where this was going. “Boys?”
“The Bayou Boys,” he proudly told me, pointing at the faded patch on his jacket. “Figured you might’ve recognized me.”
I really didn’t like where this was going.
“Sorry, I don’t… I don’t follow.”
“We’re the law out here,” Rampage told me. “At least, in Lafayette. We don’t come all the way out here less we have a good damn reason.”
“But you’re looking for someone.”
“That’s right,” he took another big bite of his half-eaten burger. “Another biker who’s done us wrong. And some stuck-up bitch.”
“Can’t say I know them.”
He paused, looking at me quietly.
“Haven’t told you what they look like yet.”
I panicked inside.
“I mean… I don’t see a lot of bikers here,” I tried to cover my tracks. “Don’t see a lot of anyone. But go on. Tell me about them. Help me jog my memory.”
He narrowed his eyes, setting the burger down and slowly wiping his greasy fingers clean with a bar napkin.
“Big guy, built broad, part of a biker club from the desert called the Devil’s Dragons. Rolled through town a month back. Gridlock’s got a bone to pick with the Devil’s Dragons. Don’t like ‘em. Wants to see ‘em all dead.”
“Gridlock?” I asked.
“Gridlock is the Bayou Boys President.”
“Well I don’t think he’s going to find this guy out here,” I gulped quietly.
Rampage laughed. “That’s what I said. Told him the asshole probably tucked tail and headed west, but the boss thinks different. One whiff of this Devil’s Dragon’s dust, and it’s got his blood boiling… So here I am.”
“And the stuck-up bitch?”
Rampage grinned.
“I’ll know her when I see her.”
I stared into his eyes with mounting fear, thinking of anything in arms reach that I could use as a weapon. Bottles full of vodka, a small knife I use to slice limes, the cash register… It was heavy enough to do some damage.
The tension snapped when he laughed. “Haha, I had you, didn’t I? I’ve been practicing that look… gonna use on that whore the second I see her…”
I reluctantly chuckled with him.
“Don’t you worry about her,” he shook his head. “I’m after the big guy. Find him, I say, find the chick. Even if you gotta break a few fingers to get it out of him…”
My nerves couldn’t take much more of this. “How do I let you know if I see him?”
Rampage leaned back, taking another swig of his beer. He motioned for a pen, and I dug one out from under the bar.
“Here,” he grunted, penning down a phone number. “That’s my boss. You see any leather with a dragon on it, you let me know. I’ll make sure you’re properly rewarded. You’d like that, wouldn’t you sweetheart?”
“Yes…” I nodded politely.
He asked for the check, and I was never so fucking happy to print one of those in my life. He left me thirty dollars – meaning a tip of less than a buck – and gave me a last piercing smile before finally leaving.
It felt like a boulder fell off my shoulders once he was finally out of the goddamn place.
Digging my phone back out, I tried ringing Grizz for the fourth time since this guy had shown up.
Same as before.
Nothing.
I eventually gave up and continued on with the late afternoon shift. Boss wanted the place closed early today on account of some overnight cleaners, and there were barely any customers anyway, so I closed up at ten and did my inventory counts before locking up.
My taxi was waiting out by the curb. I’d gotten into the routine of calling for one, since Grizz wasn’t always free, the buses didn’t service this part of town, and I didn’t have the money for a car.
I climbed inside for my ride home, eager to be done with this stressful place for tonight. I had already decided to give my boss a call and quit. The money was shit, and the Bayou Boy showing up only meant that I needed to go into hiding – and fast.
Maybe if I’d been less focused on running away, I’d have noticed Rampage sitting on his black and chrome Harley at the dark end of the parking lot.
Twenty-One
Grizz
“Are you ready for this, Grizz?”
Julian’s hand was clasped firmly onto my shoulder. His eyes locked on mine, the man searching for any shred of weakness.
“I’m ready,” I told him confidently.
“And I believe you,” he replied, a sly smile crossing his lips. “Well then, you’ve paid your dues. Time to meet my partners.”
Julian turned to face the door guard, handing him a key. Brutish and silent, the man twisted and unlocked the door, pushing it open for the two of us.
Surprise, surprise, it was another bar.
This is almost getting a bit ridiculous, I started thinking to myself as I followed Julian in. But my opinion changed when I had a better grasp of things.
Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that this was more of a lavish nightclub than the shithole bars I was used to. The place was so dark that subtle floor lighting lined the way. The walls were all painted black, making the small pockets of activity look like they were sitting in a shadowy abyss. Sinister ambient music played over concealed loudspeakers all around, adding an otherworldly layer to the entire place.
As we walked forward towards the white lighting of the massive bar, a sharp-dressed bald man in a waistcoat and rolled-up sleeves glanced over from behind.
“Anything to drink?”
“Not yet,” Julian lifted his hand. “Let me get our newest recruit settled first…”
The bartender summed me up, a sly smile on his face. His tongue quickly rolled against his lip, and I suddenly realized how he was looking at me.
“Looks like you brought me a handsome one this time,” he grinned.
<
br /> “Flattered, but no thanks,” I grunted.
“Oh, you’ve hurt me,” the bartender looked wounded. “Change your mind sometime, and I can whisk you away to a dark corner in here…”
Julian directed me away.
“Sorry about that. Patrick’s usually a little more professional… I’ll have a word with him later.”
“It’s fine,” I noted as we walked past a few cocktail waitresses, casting me seductive looks. I paused, thinking of the women we’d saved from the Viboras Verde in Mexico.
“Don’t worry,” my host reassured me. “Everything you see here is above board. You won’t find sex trafficking within our ranks. This isn’t some low class brothel.”
“Good,” I growled.
We continued up some stairs, past a few booths where a few friendly drinkers were enjoying the company of some of their more flirtatious servers.
“What kind of place is this?”
“Strip club,” Julian noted, waving with his hand across the darkness. To be sure, there was a stage over there, and girls dancing against poles.
“That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“No,” I noted. “My boss has a chip on his shoulder over strip clubs. Some of the senior club brothers, too. You might say they had a bad experience in one a long time ago.”
“We are highly exclusive and discreet,” Julian told me. “Everyone who comes through that door is by strict invite only, and they have to be vouched for.”
“What about the Dragons?” I asked.
“Well, that depends solely on you,” Julian replied. “You, of course, and the people you’re about to meet…”
We went up a few more stairs and around a corner. Julian unlocked another door, and I had to cover my eyes from the brighter lighting.
There must have been eight people around that table, none of which looked particularly intimidating… but each of these otherwise average men and women controlled a piece of New Orleans.
Clemens would kill to be in this room.
“Friends, it’s with great pleasure that I introduce to you my new friend Grizz Hawkins of the Devil’s Dragons.” He took his seat directly across from the open chair, seated in front of an old rotary landline.
Which meant that cell phone signals were good as dead in this room, if not the entire bar. I was dealing with some very careful and paranoid people.
Julian’s partners introduced themselves one by one. The short, squat one helped run the New Orleans port; the smiling, upper middle-aged woman oversaw international airport smuggling through the Louis Armstrong International; this Jamaican guy was one of the leaders in the New Orleans Black Market; the thin, elderly one was the police commissioner for the city. That one definitely took me a second to process. Corruption ran straight to the top in the big easy…
“Pleasure to meet you,” the black market dealer greeted me with his other hand placed on our handshake. “You and your boys have done some excellent work out there.”
“Much obliged,” I nodded.
Once the introductions were over, a few cocktail waitresses were let into the room to take our orders and, after a few minutes, bring back the first round of drinks.
That got out of the way quickly, and then we went straight to business.
Julian’s partners were upfront with their doubts about the Devil’s Dragons. It seemed like our reputation did precede us, because each member of the partnership were well versed on our recent dealings.
Since my contact had already filled me in on these details – how they knew, what they knew – I didn’t have to ask stupid questions in front of these people.
Made things a little easier…
I laid it all out on the table in front of them, answering their tough questions and shrugging off a few hard accusations.
Friendly or not, they needed convincing.
“The Devil’s Dragons had free reign to be a wildcard,” I admitted. “We had room to play it loose, so long as his club was kept fed and safe… but we’re ready to settle down.”
“How do we know your club won’t raise hell out here?” The airport smuggler asked, with her usual friendly cheer.
“Our president knows what it takes to build a network of criminals,” I answered plainly. “He’s already done it. Hunter understands what it takes to maintain trust and order.”
“It’s a little different out here than those Outlaws you have,” rasped the oldest voice at our table. It belonged to a leery woman by the name of Maggie Thibodeaux.
Old Maggie looked like someone’s senile grandma, going through a weird leather phase. She was the matriarch of the Redneck Renegades motorcycle club – a tough club that had been holding territory in New Orleans for three generations.
“Not saying it isn’t different,” I replied respectfully. “Just saying the Devil’s Dragons have experience keeping a circle of criminals on their better behavior. We are honor bound.”
“That reminds me,” Julian piped up. He’d stayed suspiciously quiet the entire time. “How is Hunter planning on ruling the Outlaws from a thousand miles away?”
“Can’t answer that for him,” I shook my head. “That conversation hasn’t happened.”
He leaned forward. “Guess, then.”
I hesitated.
I don’t like making assumptions, especially when they were on the behalf of other people… and especially not with this much on the line.
“Hunter will probably step down. He’s got a kid on the way now. That’s part of the reason he wants to find a better home for the Devil’s Dragons in the first place. I would be surprised if he didn’t put a new trusted leader in place of the Outlaws and walk away from it.”
“You think he’d really do that?” The police commissioner asked. “After all that time setting it together?”
“He had a dream to build, and he did it. Now, he’s got his eyes set on a safer world for the kid,” I replied. “A world somewhere a little nicer than the middle of the sunbaked desert.”
They thought this over, chatting quietly among themselves. They didn’t sound very convinced, and I knew the talks were in trouble. Conviction was needed.
Which meant doing something I hated.
I had to take the spotlight.
This entire time, I’d been on the defensive, asking a few questions about their enterprises but mostly taking repeated punches to our club’s reputation. I’d taken each one in stride, but if this were going to work, I’d have to command their attention.
I thought of every moment I’d seen Hunter summon up some kind of rousing speech, and rose from my chair to tell them how it was gonna be.
“I can promise you this much,” I spoke up loudly, halting their discussions. “Hunter Hargreaves is one of the most upstanding men I’ve ever served with – and that includes my time in the Marines.
“He’s got his heart in the right place, and he’s willing to put himself at risk to do what other people won’t, when it’s necessary. He’s got people at his side that will make that call with him. The things we’ve done had some consequences, but we’ve faced terrible enemies, saved countless people, and come out alive on the other side.”
I took a moment to survey their faces before continuing.
“Your hold on this city is in danger, and you know it. There are dangerous criminal organizations out there nipping at your toes. I’ve seen the murder rate, and I know the difference between a gang dispute and a contract killing. The cartels are coming. These are people willing to make their fortunes at any cost, and they’re not going to play nice with this happy little criminal council you’ve built here. You want protection, and the Devil’s Dragons can provide that. We’ve beaten the cartels back in the West, and we’ll beat them back here in New Orleans. We will bleed for you... But we expect something in return,” I said, slapping a hand down on the table.
“And what exactly are you asking for?” the police commissioner asked.
I took my seat while they sat in silence.
“We want a seat at this table. We can provide protection for each and every one of you, but we expect to be paid for our blood and our honor. We can clean out the lowest filth in this city and keep things civilized… but we expect to keep getting paid once peace sets in. Out west, we ran out of battles to fight. I’m hoping you all see that as a good problem to have, and keep us well paid for the services we provide.”
There were murmurs going around the table.
“Well,” Julian chuckled, catching everyone’s attention. “Sounds fair enough to me. Anybody disagree?”
His partners shared a few looks.
“Very well then,” he replied, noting their hesitance. “Unless you have anything else to add, Grizz…”
“I don’t,” I reluctantly answered.
“And there are no more questions…”
The table remained silent.
“Excellent.”
He lifted the receiver of the landline at his hand and dialed a few digits. Almost immediately, the line connected. “Take our esteemed guest for drinks on the house. Whatever he’d like.”
Julian put the phone back down and turned to me, overlooking the others at the table. “Bit of a formality, really. The voting needs to begin, and if your Dragons are allowed the partnership, we wouldn’t want the coming negotiations tarnished by knowing who did and didn’t vote for you.”
“Makes sense.”
The door opened just then. I’d expected a heavy security guard, but to my surprise it was a spry little cocktail waitress who awaited me.
Wanting to be polite, I rose from my chair, bidding the table my brief farewell. “Thank you for your time.”
As the door closed behind me, I couldn’t resist a glance back inside. For a split second, I could have sworn that Old Maggie was grinning mischievously at me.
The waitress politely led me back down to the bartender, and I took my seat at his counter.
“Welcome back,” he slyly smiled. “Miss me already?”
“Something like that,” I grunted, trying to push down my growing apprehension at whatever was going on in that room.