Page 27 of Thug

“When we’re out on a ride or in the bar, listen to whoever the fuck you want. In here, I strongly suggest you listen to me,” I said. “If you want to become patched, that is.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

“I’m just like you, prospect,” I said, softening my look a little. “I don’t like being here. It’s Friday night, for fuck’s sake. I don’t like it any more than anyone else that we meet on Fridays. So, I try to keep the meetings short, and to the point. When you’re listening to Panzer instead of listening to me, I’ve got to repeat myself. Repeating myself takes twice as long as saying what I had to say the first time around. Make sense?”

He nodded. “It does.”

“Lastly, and most importantly, carrying on a conversation while I’m talking is disrespectful. To me, and to the other men who are trying to pay attention. To be respected, you must give respect. Understood?”

“Yes, si—” he caught himself before he said it. “Understood, Price.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “What was the club’s income last year, Lackey?”

I knew the answer, but I wanted to make sure the prospect understood how much it irritated me when people didn’t care to listen when I was speaking.

“$214,000,” Lackey responded. “And a few cents.”

“Two hundred and fourteen grand.” I faced the prospect. “If you divide $214,000 by 52, that’ll tell you how much we make a week.” I raised my brows. “Care to guess?”

He swallowed hard. “Around four grand?”

“$4,115, to be exact,” I said. “Now, if we divide that by five workdays in a week, that gives us about $823 a day in income, or about $103 an hour for an eight-hour work day.” I glanced at my watch. “By my watch, you’ve fucked around and wasted twelve minutes of the club’s time. Simple math tells me that’s twenty bucks.” I held out my hand. “You and your mentor owe me ten bucks a piece.”

Panzer nudged the prospect. “Give him the twenty, I’ll get you back.”

The prospect reached for his wallet.

“No.” I shifted my eyes to Panzer. “You’re each going to pay ten bucks. You were each equally disrespectful to me and to the men of this club. Grab your wallet Panzer.”

His jaw tightened. He exhaled a long breath through his nose. He wanted to speak, but he knew better. He was a damn good man. He’d been in the club for nearly ten years, and we were as close as any friends could be. Embarrassing him in front of the group wasn’t rewarding, but it was necessary. Regardless of my theatrics, it had nothing to do with money or my time. It had everything to do with respect. If I let him get away with it and punished the prospect, it wouldn’t be fair.

I had no doubt that it would be the last time either of them chose to speak when I was speaking.

“All I’ve got is a twenty,” Panzer said.

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll make sure Lackey gets you your change.”

With a sour look on his face, Panzer pressed the twenty-dollar bill into my palm. The prospect did the same.

“Ten bucks in change to each of them, Lackey,” I shouted.

“Ten bucks to Panzer and ten to Jordan,” Lackey said from the other side of the garage. “Got it.”

I reached for my wallet. My empty pocket reminded me that I’d left it in Gray’s bar. I shoved the money in my front pocket and looked at Panzer. “After the meeting, bring the prospect up to speed on what I said while you were talking.”

“Will do,” he muttered.

I walked to the center overhead door and turned to face the men. “One last thing. The bar we went to last week? Maggie’s Place? That’ll be our bar of choice until further notice. Don’t hesitate to stop in there for a beer. After I ran the Rebels out of there, she needs the business. Starting next week, we’ll have our non-mandatory weekly meeting in there. That’s all I’ve got.” I scanned the group. “Any questions?”

The men knew I liked answering questions about as much as having a prostate exam. After a few seconds of silence, I stomped my foot down on the concrete slab. “Meeting adjourned.”

Relieved the meeting was over, some of the men stood and talked of their night’s plans, while others got on their bikes and rode away. After scanning the crowd to make certain no one needed anything from me in a one-on-one, I turned toward my office.

The first thing I saw was Brisco crashing his way through the crowd on my right. Like a lifeguard trampling his way through the sightseers at a beach, he pushed and shoved the men to each side, acting as though he was on his way to save a drowning child.

Breathless, he stumbled to a stop right in front of me, nearly teetering over in the process. He bent at the waist and rested his hands against his thighs. With his eyes fixed on the floor and his lungs gasping for air, it appeared he was close to puking on the toes of my boots.

I took a few steps away from him. “Slow down, big boy,” I said. “You’re going to have a coronary if you don’t settle down.”