“Do y’all remember a few months back when we voted on opening a tattoo parlor?” he questions, his gaze laser focused on me.
“Yeah, but with the holidays and all that going on, it kind of got pushed to the wayside,” Ash says. “Then, of course, we got Becca, and well, I guess we dropped the ball, pres. Sorry about that.”
Rebel smirks as he reaches into his cut and pulls out a set of keys. “Well, lucky for you fuckers Ididn’tforget,” he states, sliding the keys to me. “Those are the keys to the shop, Prophet. Now all you have to do is order equipment and get a few artists.”
I internally chuckle because it’s not as easy as that. Artists are a dime a dozen, but good ones are not. “Guess that’s why you’re the president,” I murmur. “Because with the trifecta, as Marnie called it, hitting us the way it did, it honestly slipped my mind.” Looking at Ash, I ask, “Is Marnie still willing to be one of the artists?”
Everyone chuckles at my dig on Rebel, although it’s not meant disrespectfully at all. Once I saw that Marnie was doing well working with pigskin, I went back to my grouchy ways. While I know breaking up with Rosa was the best thing for both of us, but especially me, I’ve been out of sorts ever since that day. Only the little ones that are now part of the club have kept me from hopping on my bike and taking a sabbatical to clear my head.I mean, I’m not devastated by a longshot. She was familiar and comfortable, but if I’m being honest with myself, any affection I felt for her has been gone for a long time.
“Honestly? You’ll want to talk to her, Prophet, because now that we have Becca, and with the wedding coming up, I don’t know how much time she can devote to it. I know she wants to volunteer at the school when they need help, and of course, she probably wouldn’t want to work late in the day or even on the breaks,” Ash replies.
I shrug. “Truthfully, she’s going to make her own hours, Ash. The few sketches I saw show she’s got a natural talent and the last time I looked at the skins, she’s got the touch as well. That means, once people see what she’s capable of, she can set her schedule around Becca. Not only that, but we’ll get at least two more artists in to ensure she’s able to be the mom that Becca needs.”
I see relief cross Ash’s face at my words. I get it; while Becca’s technically his niece, he and Marnie will be adopting her as theirs since the injuries that Marnie sustained means she can’t have children of her own. Since I have a soft spot for that little princess, whatever Marnie needs, she’s going to get, plain and simple.
“She’ll appreciate that,” he says.
Looking at him, I ask, “Think she’d be willing to come and check out the new shop with me? I want her input as far as decorating the place goes so it doesn’t look like a biker’s den of iniquity.”
Snickers from the rest of my brothers soon has me chuckling, because I’m clueless when it comes to shit like that. I’ve neverhad my own place; I either worked in someone else’s shop or did tats here at the clubhouse for my brothers.
“Yeah, I’ll talk to her so y’all can get things rolling. I think she, Holly, and Esther have the majority of the wedding details ironed out already, and it’ll give her something to do while Becca’s in school,” he says.
“Good, now that we have that sorted out so we can get more money flowing into the club’s coffers, Psycho, what’s the latest on the finances for the other businesses?” Rebel asks, focusing us back to the rest of the meeting.
While Psycho goes over everything monetary, my mind wanders to the fact that starting up the shop totally disappeared from my thoughts. Granted, it would have been hell trying to get something started after Halloween and between Thanksgiving and the new year, because as a club, we were heavily involved in helping the community. I suspect it would’ve had all of us burning the candle at both ends, and we were still getting back on track from Rebel’s accident. Thankfully, he’s fully healed now, as are Marnie and Holly, and it’s the perfect time to start a new venture. Excitement thrums through me and when there’s a lull in the conversation, I clear my throat.
“Pres?” I question, drawing his attention back to me. “I have another idea.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
“Well, you know I was on the MMA pro circuit before I joined the club,” I start. At his nod, I keep going. “For those who aren’t aware, there are two levels in a manner of speaking. Amateur and professional. Amateurs, of course, don’t get paid, we simply compete to see who’s the best, winning belts and bragging rights.While I was on the amateur circuit, I used to mentor kids who wanted to learn the two disciplines I focused on, which were kickboxing and Jiu Jitsu. I’m still in contact with a lot of the guys I knew in that life, and I’d like to see if we could possibly open up a combat sports gym that offers training in those areas. Hell, I have a few old friends who are experts in Muay Thai, Taekwondo, and Karate as well. If I get at least two artists in the tattoo parlor, plus Marnie working whatever hours she can commit to, with me working when I’m needed, I could oversee the gym.”
“Could we offer self-defense courses?” Data asks.
“Don’t see why not,” I reply. “Many of those disciplines would be beneficial for self-defense. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I started taking classes when I was a teenager,” I admit.
“What do you mean?” Data queries.
“Y’all, I was a gawky, gangly, teenager and I got picked on all the fucking time. Gramps got tired of hauling me up to urgent care to get put back together and he enrolled me in kickboxing,” I retort. “First time I was cornered outside of school, and I used the skills I’d been taught was the last fucking time those assholes laid a hand on me. Thing is, I got the bug, and it helped focus me because I was a hyper kid. I’m sure nowadays, I would’ve been put on meds, but my grandparents didn’t really believe in that, so they found ways to channel that energy. It takes a lot of concentration to learn the various moves and positions, but Ireallycommitted to it after my first competition. It built my self-confidence and self-worth, while giving me a helluva workout which created the physique I have today.”
Gagging sounds come from Ash, who is acting like he’s about to puke all over the table, so I flip him off, causing him to laughlike a fucking hyena. “Yuk it up, asshole, even though I haven’t competed professionally for years now, I could still hold my own.”
Rebel’s nodding and I see a gleam in his eye before he starts talking. “I fucking love that idea, Prophet. Might want to see if it’s something either of our two prospects have a knack for, because they were both quite athletic in high school. Could even use it as a fundraiser a couple of times a year so we can continue to help those in our community who need it. Data, start looking for sites, and if there’s not one, find land so we can build what we need, brother.”
I sit back, stunned, but it’s just another reason why I became a brother with the Steel Raiders. I know when Rebel first started the club about ten or so years ago, the townspeople were skeptical, especially since several television shows gave the impression thatallmotorcycle clubs were the same, which couldn’t be further from the truth. While all of us come from various backgrounds, we’re friendly with several in neighboring towns that are made up of first responders, whether they’re active or retired, as well as law enforcement officers.
“Appreciate it, pres,” I murmur. “I really liked mentoring those kids and seeing their confidence grow. Some of them went on to compete on the circuit, while others had the courage to enroll in school sports for the first time, and it was because they had a few people who believed in them.”
“Then that’s what we’re going to do. Anything else?” Rebel asks. When he sees that we’re waiting on him, he hits the gavel on the table and says, “Church dismissed.”
“What do you think, Marnie?” I ask as Ash and Becca walk through the various rooms of the tattoo shop that Rebel bought.
Yes,bought. The Steel Raiders MC is now the proud owner of a five-story building, and only three of the storefronts have tenants, which as Rebel said when I called him, was passive income for the club. Do I understand all that bullshit? Absolutely not, but that’s why I’m an enforcer, not the treasurer. Psycho, however, is in his element and when I left the clubhouse earlier with Ash, who called Marnie to have her meet us, he was mumbling about spreadsheets, tax exemptions, and a whole bunch of shit that was way above my pay grade.
“It’s going to be perfect, Prophet,” she replies, glancing around the front area. “I can see a reception desk there,” she says as she points, “then your office right there because even if Psycho is handling all the financial paperwork, you’re still going to have to do boss stuff. Each of the artist’s rooms is private enough that anyone getting a tattoo in an area that is a bit… sensitive for lack of a better word, will have the privacy they need to remain comfortable. Are you sure you’re alright with me setting my own hours based on Becca?”
“Absofuckinglutely,” I emphatically state. “She’s y’all’s primary focus, Marnie. During the summer, I’m sure we can figure something out, so you can be with her. I know Holly runs her own business, so maybe talk to her and see if she’s got any ideas. Now, what are you thinking as far as a color scheme?”