Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Trip pursed his lips and agreed that had to have sucked. Spend a year being a prospect, being shit all over, treated like a slave, lower than dog shit, and then when you finally made it, all your suffering meant nothing.
“I hear ya.”
“Do you, though?”
“Yeah, I do. Shit’s gonna be different this time.”
“Dutch mentioned your pie in the sky fuckin’ thinkin’. Willin’ to stick around to see if you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Ozzy grinned. “Like I said, cocky little shit. See things didn’t fuckin’ change.”
“One thing did.”
“What’s that.”
“No longer little.”
Ozzy pulled his shoulders back and looked down his nose at him. “Right. Me, neither.”
Trip ignored the unspoken challenge. “Where’d you land?”
“Ran free for a while. Eventually hooked up with a club out west.”
“Why aren’t you stickin’ there?”
“Was a support club to the Fifty Calibers. Fucked up and got caught runnin’ guns. While doin’ time, my girl found other dicks to spin on. Got out, found her strung out and my so-called brothers were passin’ her around like a fuck toy. Her choice to keep the high. Not my choice in a steady piece. Went nomad again. Now, here I am, lookin’ to settle since my ass is gettin’ too old for that lone wolf shit.”
While he didn’t look too broken up about losing his girl, Trip understood what kind of betrayal it was for your woman to be sucking and fucking dick other than your own.
“Got a place to crash?”
“Nope.”
“A job?”
“Nope. Just got back to town.”
“Got any construction experience?”
“Loads.” Ozzy lifted his hands, which were rough. “These hands ain’t Ivory soft for a reason. Done it all. You name it, I’ve fuckin’ done it.”
“Know how to run a crew?”
“For construction? Yeah.”
“For a motel.”
“Like housekeepers and shit? Sounds like cake.”
“Construction, too. Bought The Grove Inn. It’s a steaming pile of shit. Need to polish that shit to a diamond. Put scratch in the club coffers, put scratch in your pocket.”
Ozzy’s brows rose. “Used to fuck all the time in that motel. They rented by the hour.”
“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’ now. Once it’s fixed up, want to attract renters who’ve got money. The better the rooms are, the more we can charge.”
“Hear you on that. It got a manager’s apartment?”
“Yeah, but it’s a total shit show. That’ll need redone, too. Got a cheap room for you in the bunkhouse. Food, booze—”
Ozzy’s eyes lit up. “Pussy?”
“Not yet.”
“What club don’t have pussy?”
“One that’s just gettin’ reestablished.”
Ozzy nodded. “Okay, place to stay, manage the motel, fix it up. Who’s the construction crew?”
“Hopin’ prospects once we get ‘em. ‘Til then, there’s some local Amish workin’ for me. Redid the barn, built the bunkhouse, gonna be workin’ on Crazy Pete’s bar.”
“Crazy Pete,” Ozzy murmured. “That ol’ fucker still around?”
Trip shook his head. “Cancer got ‘im.”
Ozzy dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. A little over a year ago.”
“Club took over the bar?”
Trip stared at him for a moment, not sure if he should mention Stella. “Yeah. It’s the club’s. That needs turned around, too, like the motel.”
“Who’s managin’ that?”
“Got that covered for now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Trip said with finality.
“That it?”
“Nope,” Trip answered. “Need someone to sit at the table as Secretary.”
Ozzy got quiet for a long moment.
That couldn’t be the breaking point for the guy. Trip just dumped a whole shitload of responsibility on someone he didn’t know. Being the club secretary wasn’t much more.
Finally, the man smiled and said, “No you don’t.”
Trip smiled and offered his hand. They clasped palms and bumped shoulders. “Welcome, brother.”
“Fuck, that sounds good. Missed the brotherhood. Will be good to have others at my back.”
“If all goes well, you’ll have a bunch of ‘em. Loyalty’s priority. Buildin’ a solid family here, not a cluster-fuck.”
“A cluster. Like the old days.”
“Right.”
Ozzy glanced over his shoulder at the barn. “Where am I layin’ my head? Been ridin’ the past twenty-four hours straight. About to drop.”
Trip jerked his chin toward the barn. “Take your sled ‘round back. Lemme pull on a shirt and some boots and I’ll meet you there, get you settled. Will introduce you to Deacon, our Treasurer, if he’s there. Got a couple prospects, two of Dutch’s mechanics, livin’ in the bunkhouse, too. They should be at work, though.”
“Great. Will get a little shut-eye and then head out to the motel to check out what needs done.”
Didn’t sound like the man was lazy if he was willing to go the same day he rode into town. Trip liked that. Gave him some hope.
“Got a repo job I need to do after gettin’ you settled. But should be done before you wake up and we can head over there together later.”
“Cool, brother. See you in a bit,” Ozzy said as he turned on his boot heel and jogged down the couple steps from the porch, heading over to his sled.
Trip crossed his arms and smiled as the deep rumble of his new Secretary’s sled settled in his bones.