“You’re a bastard, brother.”
I flash a grin and agree, “Through and through. No use in denying it. Being tame never got me anywhere, so fuck that boring shit.”
“You’re real. I’ve always respected that. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to be in a club with you leading.”
“Appreciate that, man.” I lean over so we can bump knuckles.
“I’m gonna head out.” He stands. The fucker’s massive, so I have to tilt my head to stare at his face.
My brow raises, curious as to where he’s off to on a boring-ass Tuesday night. “Got plans, brother?”
“I’m going to stop by BJ’s.”
“Damn, someone’s pussy got you hooked.” I smirk. Can’t help it. We like to give each other shit on occasion.
His lips tilt into a grin. “Not yet, but hopefully, one day.”
“All right, man, ride safe.”
“Thanks, brother,” he grumbles and heads around the building.
More moans come from Blow’s window, and I stand with a huff. I’m not about to sit around here and listen to my brother fucking. They sound like a bunch of dying cats and shit with the wailing getting out of hand. With that thought, I head to the bar. A short glass of whiskey will have me sleeping peacefully.
Powerhouse shows up in my office days later, Blow at his side. It’s right around the time I usually start my inventory. The brothers know I’m always here to keep up with business shit on Sundays. “We have a problem,” he confesses, not appearing happy to admit it. My mind shoots to our warehouses and storage facilities. Last I checked, they were empty, but they could’ve been raided, I suppose. We like to have them empty to keep nosey fucks our of our business, and it gives us the freedom to pretend like they’re full. In return, we filter in drug money to make it appear like storage payments and legit cash flow.
“That so?” I nearly growl. I don’t like motherfucking problems, especially when it’s bad enough it takes two of them to tell me about it. “I swear to Christ, Plague better not’ve gotten popped last night. Is that it? Is he locked up? Or is it one of the storage buildings? We get raided?”
Whiskey shoots me a look, shaking his head. Obviously, he knows where Plague is. Glad someone’s got his location locked down. His family’s been having issues. His mom’s been cancer-stricken, and it’s made him a bit flighty. Not only that, but it’s made him ballsier, and he wants to dig his hands into anything dangerous he gets wind of. A member on the rails is not a good thing to have when you run drugs, but he’s our brother, and we’ve gotta have his back.
“No,” Powerhouse confirms, rubbing his palm over his freshly shaved head. He’s got some tribal shit tatted on it like a junior Mike Tyson. He caught shit for it from us until he decked Plague, and that shut us all up. Plague was knocked the fuck out. We weren’t about to have that happen to us as well. “Blow, you want to tell Prez what happened?” he offers, and I’d chuckle at him tossing Blow to the top dog if I wasn’t so on edge about their news.
“I was at BJ’s. House called me to bring in some more product. He’d sold out.” He nods to Powerhouse. He’s always called him House as a nickname, never mind that Powerhouse is already his road name. I whistle lowly through my teeth, my eyes flashing to Powerhouse. He nods to confirm that he made bank today at the strip club.
“That’s what’s up,” I mutter, holding my fist out. Powerhouse bumps my knuckles then we train our attention back to Blow.
“I was having a drink, chilling. I wanted to stick around since there were so many buyers. I felt like House may need me for some reason.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I found out one of the dancers is a runaway or something.”
“The fuck?”
Blow nods, releasing a pent-up breath, “You know me, I acted like I didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about. I let the chick asking give me as much information as she wanted to offer up freely.”
“Mm,” I grunt.
“Imagine my fucking surprise when I’m still telling her I don’t know jack shit, and she lays a photo of Madison on the table. I nearly choked on my motherfucking drink. Fuck, brother! The bitch is running, and she’s been right under our noses.”
“Madison?” I repeat, dumbstruck, and straighten up a bit more. “You mean the bitch we’ve had sucking cock…Maddy?
He grumbles, confirming. “It was some woman I hadn’t seen before. She came snooping around, asking for her. Says she needs to be found and quietly. Guess her dad’s a senator or some shit.”
My brow wrinkles. “The fuck would an uppity rich bitch be strippin’? It doesn’t make any sense. You sure she said it was her father?”
“Yep, trust me, Prez. I thought the same motherfucking thing when I heard it myself.”
“Have you talked to Maddy about it?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, if it’s true, I may scare her off.”
“Might be a good thing, if she’s who this chick is claiming her to be and all.”
He silently bristles, not agreeing. I’m not a dumb fuck. I know he’s carved out a soft spot for her.
“What aren’t you telling me, Blow?” I press my VP. Obviously, he’s not coughing up everything he knows. “Out with it. I don’t give a shit if you’re fucking her too.” I decide to just speak plainly. I don’t like my VP keeping thoughts to himself on this chick because we’ve both been tapping her ass.
“Maddy likes her powder.”
“Ah.” The pieces suddenly click together. I should’ve guessed if she was shacking up with my VP when she wasn’t busy sucking my cock, it’d be for some snow. “She an addict? She’s been smart enough not to ask me for any…just taking when I offer.”
He shrugs, jaw flexing. “I’m not one to call someone out on their vices.”
“Understandable. I’m just gauging the amount of liability this stripper brings to the club with her presence.”
“I won’t let her get us into any shit.” He grows defensive. Fucker has definitely gone soft on the bitch.
I chuckle. The bastard that I am won’t hesitate to call him on his bullshit. “She’s already brought in shit! Think about what you just told me about who her pops is. He could be buddy-buddy with the fucking FBI, for all we know. The last thing we need is government presence in our fucking clubhouse, brother. The bitch could be working for daddy. Politicians love bringing down criminals. Looks good on their ass-kissing resumes.”
“She’s not like that,” he states firmly, his cheeks red from irritation. I don’t buy it for a minute. I sell drugs. I’m a skeptic on everyone who isn’t a member of this club.
“How do you know? You’d trust her with your life, or with ours? You’d do time for the bitch?”
“If I didn’t trust her, I wouldn’t have her pussy in my bed, on repeat. She’d be a hit it and quit it—”
“Yet, you keep going back, meaning...”
He nods, confirming my earlier thought that he’s soft on her.
“You feel something for her?” I ask outright, not pussyfooting around it.