Exactly the kind of shit most true bikers hate. “Yeah, and it encourages every fool who buys a Harley to LARP around at being a biker.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Live action role play,” I explain.
“Heh. I like that.” He grins. “Exactly, they’re even on those stupid reality shows. People treat them like celebrities. And yet, they’ve never gotten out of guns, extortion, and a host of other shit. They just do it in plain sight now.”
“Yeah, until the government goes after their colors.”
“Government lost that battle, don’t forget.” He sets the magazine down. “Why do you think that is?”
“Like you said, they treat their club like a business.”
“Right. But there’s something else. They’ve infiltrated government agencies in some way at every level. Their women work in courthouses. Family members in law enforcement. Bribing people. Forming relationships. Maintaining those relationships over years.”
I don’t know if I’d call bribing elected officials with tapes of them in bed with young women who aren’t their wives “maintaining relationships” but, whatever.
“Ice has made significant progress with a few agencies,” Priest says.
He sure has. And here I was worried Ice’s ties to ATF and the FBI were a bad thing, when all along, it sounds like Priest’s been encouraging it.
“That’ll benefit all of us.”
“Or get us all sent to prison.” Shit, I can’t believe I said that out loud.
“I understand your concern and it’s not without merit.”
“What’s any of this have to do with me?”
“This.” He taps the magazine cover. Christ, I want to hunt down every copy and toss them in a bonfire. “Doesn’t bother me. It normalizes us. Puts people at ease. She has a lovely wholesome image.”
Why do those words sound creepy as fuck coming out of Priest’s mouth?
“It’s not a negative to be seen with her. Makes the big, bad bikers seem less scary.”
I think I liked Priest better when he threatened us to keep a low profile and didn’t want us to draw attention to ourselves.
“I thought the whole point was to fuck everyone’s opinion and live outside the bounds of society?”
“Times change, Rooster. We can adapt to the world around us. Or rot in prison.”
Adapt it is.
Chapter Fifty
Rooster
After we leave Priest’s compound we head to the ranch where Dawson and his guys are hanging out.
Along the way, our caravan pulls into a rest stop to say goodbye to Wrath, Trinity, and Hustler. They’re headin’ home from here.
Shelby and Trinity share a teary goodbye.
“You’re going to come visit us for Christmas, right?” Trinity asks.
Thank you, Trinity.
Shelby takes my hand, pulling me closer. “Sooner, I hope.”
I definitely like the sound of that.
They hug and promise to get together for online yoga practice at least once a week.
“Be fabulous, flamingo,” Trinity says, pulling away.
Wrath even wraps her up in a hug that almost swallows her whole. “Don’t take any shit, kid.” He glances at me and smirks. “Not even from Rooster.”
Shelby sniffle-giggles as she pulls away. “I won’t. Promise.”
Hustler shakes her hand and wishes her luck.
After another round of hugs and goodbyes, we’re back on the road and arrive at the ranch before sunset.
It’s a party again. Music’s pumping. Bonfire’s roaring. Drinks flowing. Shelby stares at the scene in front of us and yawns.
“Not in a celebrating mood tonight?” I ask.
“Honestly, no.”
Still, we do a lap around the party. She checks in with her band. I talk to some of the roadies. Then we head to the RV for the night.
“I need to give Z a call, you all right?”
She holds up her ear buds and her lyric notebook. “Trent sent me some files. I’m gonna give ’em a listen.”
“You remember to write down that ‘diamond in the dust, I’m about to combust’ line?”
She throws a pillow at me. “Hush your mouth, Logan Randall.”
Laughing, I take a seat at the dinette and call Z.
“My hero!” Z says so loud, I can picture his big ol’ dimpled grin. “What the fuck you been up to, motherclucker? Priest had all sorts of glowing compliments for you and me.”
I’m not feelin’ like much of a hero. “Jesus, brother. That visit to Digger’s was a clusterfuck of epic fuckery.”
I relay a sanitized version of what went down. Never know who might be listening in on our calls. But I’m able to give Z the general gist of things.
“I didn’t want to say anything, but I saw the hit piece on Shelby,” he says when I finish. “You think it’s gonna hurt her?”
“Don’t know. Her manager seems to think so.” I glance over at Shelby but she’s absorbed in whatever she’s listening to and scribbling furiously in her notebook. “I didn’t get to tell you the best part. Priest’s fine with the exposure. He’d now like us to follow in the footsteps of the Eighty-Sixers.”
“I’m sorry. What?”
Again, I give him a general outline.
“Has he lost his mind?” Z yells. “That reality TV shit is half the reason they’re at war with every MC in the country.”