Judge grunted. “Maybe that’s your damn problem. Not supposed to be rollin’ in it like a dog rollin’ in shit. Supposed to be fuckin’ it with that tiny dick of yours.”
Deacon’s hand dropped below the counter and Trip could imagine he was grabbing his crotch. “Big enough to choke you.”
“You gonna do this?” Judge asked Deacon, not looking any kind of happy.
Deacon shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Extra scratch will help me get my dream bike. Don’t gotta do much extra work for it. Plus, I get to wear the Fury’s colors.”
“You weren’t around when all the shit went down,” Judge warned him.
“Yeah, but I know about it and he’s,” Deacon jerked his chin at Trip. “gonna make it all work, right?”
“Right,” Trip muttered. He was going to do his fucking best.
Deacon reached over the counter and punched Judge in the arm. “C’mon, asshole, let’s do this.”
“This ain’t like some rec club, Deke. An MC’s a goddamn brotherhood. You live and die for it. Live and die for each other.”
“Yeah, I get it. And I woulda prospected years ago if one of ‘em was around.” Deacon glanced at Trip. “I gotta prospect?”
“You’re Ox’s blood, right?”
“Yeah, my mother’s Ox’s sister.”
“Then, you got Fury blood. You get a cut and also sit at the table as Treasurer.”
Deacon smiled. “Can handle that.”
“Good,” Trip said. “Can you handle talkin’ Judge into wearin’ his pop’s cut and sittin’ next to you at the table?”
“Whataya think, Judge?” Deacon asked him. “We’ll no longer be cousins, but brothers. Always wanted a brother,” he teased.
“Then your pop shoulda stopped fuckin’ your mother up the ass. Normally babies aren’t born like that, you just happened to be a fuckin’ miracle.”
Trip dropped his head to hide his grin.
“Who else you got?”
He lifted his head at Judge’s question. “Cage as Road Captain.”
“That fuckin’ dick,” the big man grumbled.
“Dutch as VP ‘til I can get the spot filled. Mouse and Sparky as prospects.” He didn’t get a reaction from Judge from any of those names. Only Cage’s, which made Trip wonder if he made a mistake making the man Road Captain before he got to know him.
“That it?”
“Yeah, that’s it for now. Lookin’ for more prospects, also lookin’ for more blood. Know any, send ‘em my way. The bunkhouse is almost finished. Got a place for someone to live if needed.”
“Rent free?” Deacon asked.
Trip hesitated. He was planning on letting the prospects stay for free in their bunk room. They’d have to pay for their own personal shit. But the rest of the rooms... “Not free, cheap. Maybe a C-note over the monthly dues.” At least that would cover some of the expenses.
“Ain’t bad. Cheaper than my shithole. Might have to take you up on one of those rooms.”
“Also got two apartments. One is spoken for, though. The other, gotta figure out what kinda scratch I want for it.”
“Got pussy?” Deacon asked.
“Not yet.”
“Booze?”
“Workin’ on that.”
“Don’t sound like much of a club,” Judge grumbled.
“Gotta start somewhere. With you as the enforcer, just need a Secretary and we can have our first meetin’.”
“Didn’t say I was takin’ it or even joinin’.”
“At your granddaddy’s old farm, right?” Deacon asked, ignoring his cousin.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll both be out to scope it out. I know anyone interested, they gotta prospect?”
“Yeah, right now six months. Unless they’re blood of one of the Originals. Like you.” He turned to meet Judge’s dark eyes. “Like Judge.”
“Ain’t gonna get an opportunity like that anywhere else and maybe never again.” Deacon came through the half-door and approached Trip. He held out his hand. They clasped palms and bumped shoulders.
“Brother,” Trip mumbled.
“Brother,” Deacon mumbled back. “Always wanted a brother,” he said again, this time not in a teasing tone.
“Now you got one,” Trip answered, his eyes slid to Judge. “More than one.”
“How you gonna pay for all this shit?” came from the tall man with the less-than-happy expression.
“Bought The Grove Inn. The repo business. Dues. Workin’ on some other shit.”
One of Judge’s dark eyebrows lifted. “All legal shit?”
“Yeah. Gonna do my best to keep shit above board. Keep my ass and everyone else’s out of concrete boxes, whether it has bars or goes six feet under. No more bloodshed between brothers.”
“Just brotherly love,” Deacon said in a sing-song voice and then made kissy-faces at Judge, who returned the gesture with a middle finger salute and a scowl.
“Who’s gonna run these businesses? Prospects?” With each question Judge asked, Trip could see his interest slightly increase. Though, he was trying hard to hide it.
“Yeah, hopefully. Patched members who need a job. Ol’ ladies.” Trip shrugged. “If I gotta hire people, I hire people.”
“Who’s gonna help you repo?”
Trip hesitated. Here was where he hoped Judge’s flicker of interest didn’t burn out. “Hopin’ Sig.”
Judge’s head tipped back, and his jaw got tight again. “Sig.”
“Yeah.”
“Think that’s a good idea?”
“Guess I’ll find out when I find him.”