Trip nodded. “As I can since I’m there more than most of you, except for Dodge. They’ve been loyal. Work their asses off. Not one of them has caused any fuckin’ drama. Unlike Scar.”
“As much as Scar has pissed me off,” Rook said. “I recognize the fact a man with no soul will be an asset when it comes to dealin’ with shit like the Shirleys.”
“He’s also a good bouncer,” Ozzy said, since he witnessed Scar in action in that capacity recently.
“When his ugly mug ain’t scarin’ off some of the fuckin’ customers,” Dodge added. “But yeah, he’s good at escortin’ out the fuckwads when I need him to.”
“Okay, forget Scar for now. We only got Possum and Tater to decide on. No objections?”
Trip’s answer from the group was silence.
He nodded. “All in favor?”
A loud shout went up from the group.
“All opposed?”
Again silence.
“It’s fuckin’ unanimous,” Trip announced and glanced over at Deacon. “Get their patches together. We’ll surprise them Sunday night.”
“What about their name patches?” Deke asked.
“They can get those after they decide what they want their new names to be. Doubt either will keep their prospect name. But nobody say shit to them ’til we meet and present them with a full set of patches. In fact, let’s have a little fun with them and when we call them out on Sunday, they’ll think the worst.” Trip grinned. “Maybe one of them will shit their pants. Especially if Judge is standin’ there with the Punisher in his hand.” He turned to his half-brother. “Sig, get the sweet butts to get two rooms in the bunkhouse prepped for them, too. Tell them to keep their traps shut about why, though.”
Sig nodded as he took a long drag on his hand-rolled cigarette.
“Before I forget… The sisterhood’s already plannin’ the annual Christmas party. Once again, we’ll do it Christmas Eve so Cassie and Judge can take Daisy over to her sisters on Christmas. Plus, that’ll free up whoever wants to spend the holiday with blood. Like Jet. I’m sure the Brysons can’t wait for you to sit at their table and break bread with them, Rook.” He snorted, then clapped sharply once. “‘Kay. Anything else need to be discussed? Openin’ up the floor to suggestions, problems, grievances since the officers are headin’ upstairs to continue to discuss the Shirley issue once we’re done down here.”
“We airin’ grievances,” Easy asked nearby, “like Festivus?”
Dutch grabbed his crotch and shook it. “Gotta pole you can gather around for that.”
Cage feigned a loud gagging sound, causing a few of Dodge’s brothers to laugh.
“All right,” Trip called out, the impatience clear in his tone. “If nobody’s got anythin’ important to say…”
“I do. Gonna repeat this ‘cause we can’t fuckin’ repeat this enough. Eyes and ears open at all times. Keep vigilant. Now’s not the time to get sloppy,” Judge warned. “No one wants to go up that mountain again to retrieve someone we love, kid or otherwise. So, think about that.”
After a few mumbled agreements, Trip announced, “Normally at this point, I’d shout out our motto, but fuck that, since I’m workin’ on a new one. Gonna run it by the exec committee first. Decided since we ain’t the Originals, we need to put that old one to bed. By the time the Originals were done, that motto no longer meant what it should.”
Dodge didn’t think the old one was bad, but he understood why Trip didn’t like it. Trip, Sig, Judge, Rook and Cage had all lived through the Original’s destruction of their parents’ club. He felt the motto “For one, for all, for our brothers, we live and die!” was tainted since it ended up meaning jack to any of them.
In the end, the Originals had zero loyalty to each other. Most of them had turned on each other. Once things began to unravel, it only took a couple of weeks to destroy a brotherhood that took years to build.
Dodge had to hand it to Trip, the prez was doing his damnedest to prevent that cluster-fuck from ever happening again.
Right now, the Fury was solid, but there was no guarantee it would remain that way. The best preventative would be to cut out any signs of rot within the club before it spread. By any means necessary. Just like they needed to do with the Shirleys.
It took a village to raise kids, it also took one to protect them.
Dodge was a part of that village. He’d do whatever was asked of him when it came down to it.
Because the people in that village were now his family even if they weren’t blood.
Chapter Eight
She was warm, her stomach full and they had a paying gig tomorrow night. One she knew she’d walk away from with actual cash in her hand this time.
Those things might not be much to anyone else, but to Syn, they were huge.