“Look, I’ll make this brief.” I got to my feet so I could address everybody. “We’ve got a new member I wanna introduce you guys to but wanted to talk to you about him before he got here. It’s Jorge Zahíno.”
As I suspected, there was an immediate response to the name.
“Fucking Zahíno?”
“Oh, wow, he’s still kickin’ around? Good for him.”
“Why him?”
Max took a sip of his beer. “Zahíno? Haven’t heard that name in forever.”
Hunter seemed confused at the reactions. “Who’s he?” he asked.
I wasn’t surprised he hadn’t heard of him. Hunter had been the last member who’d joined the Hell’s, and any previous interactions with Zahíno predated him.
Eric spoke up. “We found Zahíno hiding out in my bike shop one night a while back. I thought he was trying to steal something—but turns out, he was hiding from the Sons. At least, that was his version of the story.”
“Why, what’s yours?” Max asked.
Eric stared at me and kept silent.
“Zahíno showed us his wounds,” I said, trying to bite down my irritation at having to explain the same shit again. “He said five members of the Sons jumped him, took his guns and bike. He said he had to hide in your shop. He had no reason to lie. Nothing was missing, right?”
Eric shook his head. “Nah, nothing.”
“So there ya have it. He didn’t steal anything.” I took a long pull of my beer, eyeing Eric directly, ending the discussion on that front.
“Well, if he hates the Sons as much as we do, then I say welcome aboard,” Hunter said with a shrug.
“It’s not that simple, Hunter.” Marlene spoke up, shooting him a what-a-dumbass-rookie glare. “Zahíno was super messed up on drugs. I really don’t mean to question you, boss, but are you sure it’s a good idea bringing him in?”
“This is exactly why we’re having this conversation,” I said and sighed. “Look, I know most of you’ve already got preconceived notions of him, so I’m telling you right now, forget about them. Yeah, Zahíno was messed up on drugs, but he’s been clean for a while now, and he deserves a fresh start, just like I gave all of you.”
Silence washed over them.
Each of them had come to me with their own trauma and stories. Most had been through fucking hell and back, but they had gotten their shit together.
“I trust the guy,” I continued. “You know I wouldn’t have let him join if I didn’t. I told him to get clean, and he did. As far as I’m concerned, he’s still a prime candidate. If anybody’s got a problem with that, I’m right here. Speak up.”
Nobody said anything. At first.
A few shared glances, and one or two shifted uncomfortably in their seats. I knew none of them would outright challenge me. They knew better.
“If you trust him, that’s good enough for me,” Max said, and Ralphie gave an I-already-told-you-that nod.
The others mumbled similar words of agreement, except for Ty and Eric. I already knew how they felt, but they were smart enough not to voice their concerns out loud in front of everybody else.
After a moment of silence, I continued, “Next thing we need to talk about is when to do the initiation. Since we know Zahíno, and he’s been around this life for a long time, I’m nixing the whole initiation routine and sticking to the basics. The initiation is just a formality.”
“Is my tattoo stuff still in the back room?” Ralphie asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Nobody touches your equipment.”
Ralphie stood. “All right, I’ll go set up then.”
I patted him on the back when he walked past. I could still feel tension among the remaining members begin to dissipate, though Ty and Eric still looked unconvinced. I wasn’t worried about it. They’d come around eventually.
“Good. In lounge-related business, if any of you guys come to the club to hang out, I need you guys to act as extra security. Some of the girls have been telling me we’ve had a lot more handsy customers than usual. But keep the Hell’s business on the down low. Don’t go flashing our MC logo any more than necessary.”
“Fucking tourists,” Hunter muttered. “They act like they own the city. I saw some assholes the other day bitching about the line at Starbucks and yelling at the barista. They started talking about ‘well, back home, blah, blah, blah…’”
“I can be around tonight,” Eric offered. “You want subtle security or in your face?”
“Subtle,” I said. “Just make sure people have fun without messing with the girls.”
“Can do.”
The front door opened, and we all turned to watch as Zahíno stepped in. He pushed his sunglasses up on his head, eyes sweeping across the group. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Couldn’t find the place.”
“You should work on that,” Ty said. “It’s not that hard to find.”
I shot him a look. “It’s fine, Zahíno. Come in and meet everybody.”
By the time I finished introductions, Ralphie came out from the back. “We ready?” he asked.
I looked over at Zahíno. “Last chance to duck out.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The group of us made our way into the next room where Ralphie had set up a makeshift tattoo station. Per tradition, each of the key members was present as Zahíno received his Hell’s Seven tattoo. It was a way for all of us to not only show our trust in him but also accept him into the club together.
On a personal level, it was a way for me to make sure the person joining didn’t have any other club or gang tattoo that they were trying to hide. Switching allegiances wasn’t unheard of, but it was something I liked to know about before letting the person join us. I was glad to see the absence of track marks.
The tattoo was quick. Ralphie had been doing them for well over twenty years and could make the symbol without any reference, even though his hand had gotten shakier.
Before Zahíno let Ralphie touch him, he’d stared at the old man’s hand with a “What the fuck” look, and then relaxed once he’d seen for himself it’d be fine. But his fucking face! Priceless. Most of the boys had laughed their asses off. It was fucking hilarious.
As soon as Ralphie touched that tattoo gun the shakiness stopped, and he’d perfected that tattoo like he always had over the years. Once he was done, Zahíno shook his hand, and the initiation was done.
Clean and simple.
The others officially welcomed Zahíno into the club (Eric and Ty just gave him a stiff nod, but it would do for now), and then began to file out. A few stayed behind to hang out here, while others left to handle their regular lives. Only Zahíno, Hunter, and Marlene followed me over to the strip club.
“In more mundane news, I hired another waitress,” Marlene told me as we walked into the main room of the Sinner’s Lounge with Hunter and Zahíno trailing behind.
“Good, we’ve been so fucking busy lately. What kind of read did you get on her?”
“She’s pretty, smart, and quick with her answers. Also, she’s damn headstrong. I’m a little concerned this place isn’t the right fit for her, but she’s got experience dancing, and I wanted to give her a shot.”