However, Ozzy’s patience had worn thin as he waited for everyone to finish eating and bullshitting. It didn’t help that he sucked down three cups of black coffee while sitting there, the caffeine putting him on a razor-thin edge.
Reilly, who was sitting next to him, bumped her shoulder against his, leaned into him and asked, “Why aren’t you eating? Since when aren’t you hungry? Are you okay?”
He didn’t want to tell Rev’s ol’ lady that he had a “date” with Shay later and they’d be hitting Dino’s again for dinner. After that, he planned on taking the woman for a long run on his sled. Not a three-hour one like the club run, but hopefully a good hour or so. Also, when it was a whole fuckuva lot cooler out.
He already had swamp ass from the August heat and his face felt tight because he was probably sunburned.
“I’m good, Lee,” he grunted.
Reilly had lived in a room at the motel for months and in that time, she had become like a little sister. She also never hesitated to help out in the office when needed or, in a pinch, clean a room.
She had been on the do-not-fuck list Dutch had mentioned for a year due to being Reese’s sister and Reese was a control freak. But as soon as he met her, Ozzy had no doubt one of his brothers would defy that fucking list and snag her as his ol’ lady.
The young Rev had the balls big enough to do just that. Even more impressively, without getting the Grumpy Green Giant at the other end of the table to club him with “The Punisher” for breaking a rule.
Lucky fucking bastard.
Cage hadn’t been so lucky, but his fuck-up had been a whole different type of screw-up.
If you want to break a rule, you had to be prepared to pay the price. Same way with breaking a law and getting thrown into a concrete box because of it.
However, a bid inside was a lot longer than a five-minute blanket party thrown by the club’s enforcer with a powerful fucking wallop. Given a choice, Ozzy would take the shorter beat-down. He might have to recover afterward, but at least he could keep his freedom while doing it.
He turned into a goddamn restless tiger in a traveling circus cage every time he’d been thrown inside. That was another reason why he had been really fucking careful when he took out Ham. To him, serving life in prison would be no fucking life at all.
Ozzy was the kind of man who needed his freedom to live. He needed the ability to take off and hit the road at any moment. He’d never been one to like being tied down.
He didn’t think he’d still be living above a motel office and in Manning Grove almost three years later. Tied once more to an MC and now managing a business.
But here he was, climbing the steps to the second floor in The Barn, following the other club’s officers for that quick meeting.
They all took their normal seats, then everyone’s eyeballs landed on him, waiting for him to explain why they were doing this on short notice on a Sunday afternoon.
After a few seconds of silence, Trip picked up the gavel and slammed it on the table, ordering, “Go. Got shit to do with someone much better lookin’ than you all.”
“Same,” Judge grunted. “This ain’t about Ry, right? Is he still bein’ reliable at the motel? You got a problem with him, come directly to me, I’ll handle it.”
“He’s doin’ good. It ain’t a hard job, just borin’ as all fuck. It’ll be tough to find someone to replace him once he leaves next week.”
Yeah, that was going to suck trying to find someone to work the overnight shift once Judge’s son headed back to college.
“Can’t convince him to transfer to Mansfield?” Ozzy asked, already knowing the answer since he’d talked to Ry about it.
Judge frowned. “He’s goin’ where he wants to go. He’s old enough to decide what he wants.”
Ozzy nodded. “Gonna suck losin’ him.”
“Sure someone out there needs a damn job,” Trip said.
“The pay’s shit,” Ozzy reminded him. “Good for a college kid, but that’s about it.”
“Ask Josie or Maddie if any of their friends need a job,” Sig suggested. “Some of ‘em gotta need some scratch.”
“This convo can’t be why we’re sittin’ up here in this hot as fuck room.” Deacon swiped his hand over his forehead beaded with sweat. “Even my goddamn nuts are sweatin’.”
Even though Trip had air conditioning installed in both The Barn and the bunkhouse, the meeting room sometimes turned into an oven during summer due to the large windows facing the front of the building.
“No, it ain’t,” Ozzy assured him. “Talked to Dutch this mornin’ first but he couldn’t shine any light on the question I asked him, so figured it was best to ask you guys.”