The Davenport Christmas Chronicles - Piper Davenport Page 0,46
was time for me to show her just how much she meant to me.
Minus
“It’s settled, then. Should the Spiders declare war, Los Psychos will provide soldiers and weapons as needed, and in return will receive twenty percent of the profit of the public storage businesses on MLK and Broadway for the next three years. If all remains quiet on the Western Front, and the Spiders stay out of Portland, the Saints agree to pay Los Psychos twenty grand as a sign of goodwill for their willingness to help.”
El Cacto rose to his feet, refusing the help of the soldier who accompanied him, swatting his hand away before straightening his white suit.
“The history of our two clubs is no secret,” El Cacto said, addressing the room in a distinguished tone. His thick Mexican accent perfectly accentuated by a thick baritone that sounded every one of its eighty-something years.
“The Burning Saints and Los Psychos were first bonded by blood. The blood we spilled while at war with one another. Now we have chosen peace and I welcome such change. But I fear Los Arañas, The Spiders, will not feel the same. We will stand alongside you and the others here before me today.”
I stood and shook El Cacto’s hand, before inviting him to return to his seat.
“El Cacto is right. The fact that our two clubs have gone from enemies to friends so quickly is a reminder of how fast things can change.”
“They can just as quickly go the other way, too, though, don’t they?” Clutch said, offhandedly to grumbles around the room.
“Clutch is right,” I said. “We shouldn’t forget how quickly Wolf went from one of us, to one of them. How he had us all convinced that he was still with us. That shit should embarrass you. I know it sure the fuck burns me up.”
I knew I was taking a risk by talking so openly with members from two other clubs in the room, but I didn’t give a shit anymore. Besides, it’s not like I was spilling any secrets. Wolf, one of our longest serving Saints, had played me and the club, and everyone in the area knew it. Char had used the chapter President’s patch as bait and Wolf bit right away. Plain and simple.
“It ain’t just you,” Hatch said. “What Wolf did was fucked up and against the code of every club. That shit can’t stand, no matter what ends up going down with the Spiders.”
I gave Hatch a nod of gratitude and he responded with a chin lift. I was a bit shocked for such a vocal display of support given how we’d left things at the club dinner. We were now days away from Christmas and I’m not sure we’d seen each other at all since then.
“I appreciate the support of you and your club. Congratulations, also on your promotion, President Hatch.”
The room broke into a round of applause and Hatch responded by flipping everyone off.
This time around, our joint club meeting was held at the Sanctuary and not only had officers from the Dogs and Los Psychos, but also the Primal Howlers out of Monument, Colorado. I didn’t know them well, but the Dogs vouched for them, and they’d had our backs when we stormed the Spiders’ lair. Until now, the Primal Howlers had been men of their word, and would soon prove to be valuable as we geared up for impending doom.
“In addition, the Burning Saints, Los Psychos, and the Dogs of Fire agree to a three-way split in Hog Heaven. The Saints agree to build, staff and manage the facility, while the Dogs will provide security, with Los Psychos handling the product end of the business, with the help of Dr. Warthog, of course.”
Warthog sat grinning ear to ear like a kid about to rip into his Christmas presents. Silent nods all around signaled an accord to the motion, so I made it so.
“Okay, then. If there are no objections, that should conclude the deal and this meeting.” I announced bringing the gavel down on the table.
Warthog began passing out celebratory pre-rolled joints to everybody in the room to mark the occasion. They were as fat as cigars and I half expected them to contain a band that read “It’s a Boy!” The opening of Hog Heaven had been a goal of his since the recreational use of marijuana first became legal in Oregon. For a man of his age and life-long relationship with the sweet sticky icky, opening his own