"Who the fuck you gonna fight now?" I asked, knowing most of the other regulars wanted nothing to do with Pagan. Hell, Ross couldn't pay me enough for that kinda fight.
"He's looking for new people. Having an open house so he can get some new blood. Hopefully he gets some crazy fucks. So," he went on, looking around. "You're an arms dealer now."
"Jesus Christ," I sighed, shaking my head. "Say that a little louder, won't you?" I asked.
"Right like anyone in Navesink Bank doesn't know exactly what you do here and since you parade around in that Henchmen cut, everyone knows that you are in the arms trade. I like the digs," he added, looking around. "Somewhat less depressing than that other place you crash in."
"I've done a lot of work..." I started to defend.
"It's still a shithole," he cut me off, making me wonder for the first time where the hell he called home. I had had him at my place several times, mostly uninvited just like he was that night, but I had never even heard him talking about his own place.
"Made six-hundred on you tonight," Reign said, suddenly dropping in at Pagan's side.
"Yeah, some fucker in a Hummer tailgated me all through town this afternoon. Instead of jumping out and road-raging all over him, I brought it into the ring," Pagan said, shrugging it off. And, with nut jobs like Pagan and Slate, it really did come down to that- who was the most pissed off that day. When Slate found his girl cheating on him, he nearly beat Pagan to death. That was just how it was- pure primal instinct over actual learned skills and makeshift therapy sessions over cool, collected fighting.
"Could use a little crazy around here," Reign said, shrugging.
"No," was my immediate, knee-jerk response.
It wasn't that I didn't like and have a certain respect for Pagan; I did. He was a wild card, someone you could always count on to have your back, someone who always had the best plans for a night out, someone who believed in loyalty and had a slightly skewed moral compass.
But did I think he should prospect The Henchmen MC?
No fucking way.
I had momentarily forgotten that knee-jerk responses weren't exactly welcome in the compound. We were allowed to have opinions, sure. We were even allowed to express them to Reign, but in private, where it wouldn't look like insubordination. Because while it might have been a brotherhood, it was still Reign's club. He ultimately had say over who was in and who was out.
"You're gonna have to try to say that again with a little more respect for who's in charge here," Reign said, tone cold, making me stiffen.
"I know it's your decision, but I think you need to really think on it," I tried, looking over at Pagan who was watching the interaction with a detached kind of interest, like he didn't care which way the argument went and, more importantly, he didn't give a fuck that I was trying to take an opportunity away from him.
Seeing my inspection, he shrugged. "I dunno. I think I could pull off leather," he said, smile wry.
"Laz," Reign said, jerking his head to the back door then turning and leaving me to follow behind. "Alright, make your argument," he said as soon as we were outside.
"He's all over the fucking place," I started. "I don't even know if the guy has ever ridden a bike. He prefers fists over guns. And, well, he belongs to Ward," I said, knowing Reign and Ross had needed to have a talk about me when Reign wanted me to prospect. It wasn't good for business for Ross to look like he was aligned with any of the organizations in town seeing as his establishment catered to them all.
"Don't get me wrong, we're all happy with you and Cyrus, Reeve, and Edison, but we still need more new blood. We need more strong personalities. And, quite frankly, we need some crazy fucks. Can you see Cyrus closing a deal with other crazy fucks like the Russians or the Polish? We need crazy to face up crazy. So you're going to need a reason other than him being unpredictable. Is he disloyal or unreliable or impossible to control?"
No on all three of those.
He could always be counted on to be on your side, usually without even knowing the whole situation. He never missed a fight, even when he had one broken hand. He had just fought with the good one. And he had a deep respect for Ross whose orders were always followed, even if it meant he had to do something he didn't believe in- like not go one-hundred percent in the ring because Ross wanted to give the new guy a chance to last more than a minute.