If he hadn’t learned that in prison, he learned it by dealing with customers. Though, people made him scratch his fucking head every damn day. He also wondered how they functioned in life.
The complete room went silent as soon as the rear door opened again with Whip leading the way. Tater and Possum followed slowly. As much as Dodge worked with them, he could recognize the worry on their faces, even though they were doing their damnedest to hide it.
Dodge pinned his lips together to keep from grinning. Trip didn’t need to fuck with them, their assholes were already puckered.
“Tater Twat and Puss Sack, get your asses up here front and center,” Judge bellowed, pointing to a spot in front of where Trip stood on the box. He also now had The Punisher in his hand and was thwapping it against his palm. That sound alone should make all of their assholes pucker. Especially Cage’s.
Cage’s blanket party was a day none of them would ever forget and also made them all think twice before doing something stupid.
Like fucking a brother’s sister on a pool table.
At least his excuse was that he didn’t know who she was. And some of the blame landed on Sig, since never once had he mentioned he had a fucking sister. Or half-sister. Whatever.
Ignorance should be a valid excuse in this situation. One he hoped Sig would accept if he and Syn were actually related.
They all had secrets but that particular one was huge. Dodge also couldn’t understand why Sig would keep Syn a secret.
His only hope was that those two didn’t share even one drop of blood.
For fuck’s sake, let that be the fucking case…
As the prospects approached, a few of Dodge’s brothers backed away cautiously from where Trip and Judge stood, playing their part in squeezing the prospects’ assholes even tighter. Both Tater and Possum shot a glance toward Dodge and he quickly put a grim expression on his face and shook his head in a way that read “Sorry, can’t help you. You two are on your own.” Both sets of eyes widened and both men quickly glanced at each other. They were also deathly pale.
Dodge hoped like fuck someone was secretly recording this.
“We know you’ve been buggin’ Dodge about gettin’ patched in. Lemme first say, you shouldn’t have been buggin’ anyone about that. You got me?”
Both prospects, now standing side-by-side in front of Trip both nodded in unison. The two were so damn opposite. Tater was of average height but very round and Possum was taller and lean. Not as skinny as Bones but damn close. They kind of reminded Dodge of Laurel and Hardy. Not that those two young bikers would know who the fuck they were.
“Should we make ‘em get on their knees to get what’s comin’ to them?” Judge asked, still striking his palm with the stained club. Everyone assumed those stains were made from Originals’ blood. Or strangers’ blood.
Either way, someone’s blood.
Even from where Dodge stood, he could see both of them became an even whiter shade of pale. At least they weren’t green. Trip would be pissed if one of them projectile-puked on him.
“Should make them lick my fuckin’ boots first for what they did,” Trip said.
“What did—” Possum started.
Judge cut him off with merely a glare and a very loud slap of The Punisher against his huge palm.
Dodge covered his mouth to cover his reaction when he swore he heard Possum swallow all the way from where he stood.
When Tater began to sink to his knees, Trip barked at him, “No. You stand and take what’s comin’ to you like a fuckin’ man. We ain’t pussies here. Only men become Fury members. Remember that.”
Tater locked his knees, though Dodge saw him sway a bit.
Trip held out his hand towards Judge as if he wanted The Punisher. Instead, Deacon leaned over the bar and put two Blood Fury top rockers in his hand. How the fuck Deke was keeping a straight face, Dodge had no idea. He was only glad that he was standing behind the prospects instead of in front of them. Otherwise, he might have lost it and gave it all away.
“Now,” Trip continued, while holding the patches out in front of him with both hands palms up like he was holding a sacrifice. “You men or pussies?”
“Men!” both prospects shouted, finally getting a clue on what was happening.
“Worthy of wearin’ the Blood Fury colors?”
“Fuck yeah!” both shouted again.
“Bet you’re ready to get out of that fuckin’ bunkroom.”
“Hell yeah,” Tater yelled.
They both hated sharing a room with Scar and vice versa. No way would Dodge want to close his fucking eyes in a dark room when Scar was just feet away. If Scar was his cellmate, Dodge probably never would have slept.
“You know what wearin’ these colors on your backs mean, right? I don’t gotta go over how important these patches are, right?”