has already filled you in a bit on what I’m trying to build. My name’s Travis, but I go by Curly.” He pointed to his head. “If you can’t figure out why, please see yourself out.”
That one got a genuine laugh out of all the guys. Even Tyler, who stood with his back against the refrigerator, chuckled. Curly smiled. So far, so good. “I’m sure you all know who I am and where I’ve been. I’ll say a few things, then I won’t say shit about it, okay?”
The guys nodded. “Yes, I was the president of the True Outlaws who was wrongfully imprisoned for murdering a kid. Yes, the last thirteen years sucked. Imagine it, then multiply it by a hundred. That’s how bad it was. Yes, I sometimes get fucked in the head about it. The story you know from the news is not the correct story. I’ll tell you what really happened sometime soon. Until then, the most important thing to know is that I didn’t do it. No, I’m not hellbent on some violent revenge scheme, though there are a few people I don’t plan on sending Christmas cards to. While I’m not gonna go out of my way to get vengeance, I never have and never will shy from a fight. Got it?”
They all voiced their understanding.
“Great. Moving on. If you’re here, it’s because Ty told you I’m planning to charter an MC. An MC, not a church group, but not a gang either. I’m not interested in drugs, guns, or sex.”
Tracker snorted.
Curly’s lips quirked. “Selling sex. Is that better?”
“Fuck yeah,” Tracker said with a wink. His pierced eyebrow glinted in the light. “Worried there for a second that thirteen years without a woman broke you.”
The entire group of them cracked up. And that’s when Curly knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could make this dream a reality, and this was the group to get it done. “Anyway, you want in, you’ll need a bike. A Harley eventually, but anything will work at first. I’m tagging Tyler for VP, and I’ve got a guy named Scott who’s getting out of the military who I want for enforcer. That leaves me in need of a sergeant-at-arms, a treasurer, and a road captain. We can figure that shit out soon enough. Also, we need a clubhouse, so if you have any ideas, let me know. Today isn’t any kind of official club meeting, and I won’t discuss potential revenue sources until we all swear an oath and patch in. I’ll tell you now, though, club comes first, and we do shit our way. That way might not line up with what others think is right.”
“Meaning the cops,” Gabe broke in. He was the only one sitting stiff and wearing an expression of uncertainty.
Curly nodded as he folded his arms across his chest. “For one. That gonna be a problem for you, Gabe?”
A grain of rice falling would have boomed through the room at that point. If Gabe couldn’t get on board with this most basic tenet of MC life, he had no future there. Given his career as a trauma nurse, chances were Gabe came in contact with the cops frequently. Hell, he might even be friendly toward some, which was fine, but when it came down to it, he’d have to know where his loyalty laid.
And that would be with the club no matter what.
Curly would accept nothing less.
Not after the last time.
After what felt like an hour delay, Gabe finally shook his head. “No problem. And you can call me Pulse. Did a tour as Navy corpsman and went by Pulse.”
“Pulse. I like it.” Curly made a note to question the guy further. He’d be vetting each of them before swearing them in. Tonight was for making connections and getting to know each other, not a deep dive into anyone’s background.
“You gonna make us prospect?” Jinx asked. The guy was freaking huge. He probably hauled those tires around Ty’s shop like they weighed nothing more than a sack of feathers.
Curly unfolded his arms and rubbed his hands together as he met Tyler’s eye. It shouldn’t be his decision alone, but his cousin would be of a like mind. “I’m thinking no for the seven of us. It’s a good place to start. Anyone else will have to. You got someone in mind? We’ll let ’em hang around a bit, then take it to the table for a vote on letting them prospect. Maybe