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Pharaoh and I were planning to announce it tonight. He’d wanted to call this place The Farm after our clubhouse out at the pig farm in Franklin. But that wouldn’t do this clubhouse justice. No one comes to the city of Nashville, to Music City to visit a stinky ass farm. Fuck, we’d built a beautiful complex out of these industrial buildings. Down this long stretch of road, everything belonged to us, the gates and the two big warehouses behind them. We’d made the first into the main clubhouse, a bar with a buffet, pool tables, darts and a real casino with slot machines and game tables. We had two stages for strippers and live music. Hell, Pharaoh already booked an Elvis Impersonator to come perform once a month. Place already felt like Vegas.
Fuck, we hadn’t even finished the basement. Pharaoh had been talking about putting in a bowling alley down there and more pool tables. And there was plenty of room for guests to stay upstairs, for meetings in the room next door. The other big building we turned into an honest to God arena, complete with a ring, bleachers, a gym and locker rooms. Behind that, we had an apartment complex that we gutted and remodeled into a proper residence for all the officers. High class shit to rival all the apartments springing up all over Nashville. Hell, right on the first floor, it had an indoor pool and hot tub. Beyond that we had separate houses further down the road for our members and their growing families.
This place was fit for a king. No, better still, a Pharaoh like my President’s namesake. It took some doing, but I’d talked him into a better name than The Farm.
I addressed my club, “I’d tell y’all to settle down and listen to some bullshit, but that’s not me. I say get even louder.” I fought a smile as folks about busted my ears. I looked out and saw Claudine with the trash bags to clean all this mess up. Waving my hands, I quieted everyone down. “Now hold on, Claudine.” The girl looked like a deer in headlights with everyone eyeing her. “It’s okay, honey. You’re doing right. But just leave the money where it lies, for now.” I spoke to everyone. “I know our opening night got cut short when my brother Bubba rolled in.”
“Fucking poser,” someone yelled out about Bubba.
“The Royal Bastards MC got what we needed from Bubba, Noah Fond off our back.”
The crowd grumbled.
“Yeah, there’s only one Beau Strick. But guess what, that’s not me anymore. Bubba can have my name. He can sing all the hit songs he wants talking about how he was groomed by the cop who happened to be his father, groomed to be an informant. He can sing about how he put his young life in danger running drugs for the gangs around here to earn his daddy’s respect. And about how he gave over all the information to bring down Joey Scone but was instead framed at the age of eighteen, accused of running that large crime syndicate. At eighteen. All because his daddy was a lacky for the real crime boss. He can brag how Joey Scone got jealous of his fame and confessed, freeing him from prison. He can claim now he’s the badass who rides motorcycles and takes no shit, but we all know the truth.” I winked. “While that pretty boy is in Brentwood in his mansion, he’ll always have a limp and that scar on his ass where I shot him.”
Everyone laughed.
“And I’m here. Where I belong. Where the party is. Fuck Beau Strick. I’m forever Kingpin, President of the Royal Bastards MC, Nashville, Tennessee. God bless America. Going forward, no matter the how, we will survive… There was a feller in the slammer, big fucker named Goliath full of Chinese tattoos, big as a sumo wrestler. He told me nothing matters, not what actually happened, but the story that’s believed to have happened. What story do you want people to tell? He’d ask me every day when he served lunch. Well, tonight I’ll tell you the story. The Royal Bastards MC paid off their debt because some jackass Country Music star named Beau Strick came into our establishment here, took one look at our women and blew his wad and a wad of cash on this fine pussy we have here tonight.” I laughed, winking at Junebug who was sucking on a Zima in the crowd. “The night’s still young. And about the name for this clubhouse.”
Everyone grew silent wanting to hear the name.
“Pharaoh and I went round and round on this one. I’m sure you all noticed the goddamn throne in the other room. Laugh all you want to, but we will forever remember our fearless leader, our god amongst men, Pharaoh, when we look at that throne… Welcome to Royal Road. It’s time to party.” I hopped down from the stage to celebrate with my brothers who thankfully loved the name of our clubhouse.
Memphis came over but hung back as I took in all the attention. Partying herself, she waited patiently as my brothers came to swear their fealty. Like she was stalking her prey, she slipped closer and closer to me. Before long, the girl was on her knees, straddling my lap. Practically naked, Memphis’s breasts filled my vision, a sight to behold. My fingers wrapped around her thong. I wanted to pull it down her hips, but my brothers were still congratulating me. After a few more drinks though, the real party began. Men and women were pairing up and sneaking off upstairs.
I grew tired of my brothers that lingered.
“Hey, boss. I have an idea for the basement.”
“Save it for Church, Sadist.”
Memphis surprised the hell out me and planted a kiss right on my lips. I returned her kiss, confused. As she piqued my interest, grinding against me and pushing her soft breasts into my flesh, I eyed Junebug. My dick twitched at the thought of having them both.
“Stay here. I’m getting a friend.”
Smiling mischievously, Memphis didn’t move from my lap. “A friend?”
I took her chin. “You okay with that?”
“I’d rather have you to myself.” She batted her fake lashes.
“Like you had Pharaoh all to yourself?”
Memphis tore away. “That wasn’t my doing. He only wanted me.”
I twirled my finger around her shiny hair. “But you didn’t want him?”
Memphis looked to the ceiling, revealing her bruised neck. “At first, I did.”
Blowing out air, I took her neck in my hand. “I’m not Pharaoh. I won’t mark you up like this unless you like that shit.”
“Pharaoh got anything he wanted.”
Squeezing her bruised neck, I admitted, “I want more than he had. He had you, so I want you, only more.”
Memphis coughed out, so I let go of her.
“Any other girl would take that as a proposal.”
