Misfit(226)
His hand trembling, Slipper drained his bottle. “Untie them, boy!” he yelled in a shaky voice.
Christopher nodded to the body on the floor. “Drag this motherfucker front and center. Church in a hour.”
No one said a motherfucking word as the podium was brought out and Christopher’s gavel was set on top. His anger increased when he heard his boy’s disappointment that he wouldn’t be home anytime soon. Diesel promised to entertain CJ, but that wasn’t cutting it. Mort, Digger, Val, and Johnnie grumbled at the phone call to get the fuck to the clubhouse. Digger was the furthest away. He’d taken Bunny to lunch. Fine with Christopher. It gave the other local members a chance to arrive.
“Aww fuck, man,” Mort said when he stepped into the room and saw Mink’s dead ass, and Cash, Stretch, and Slipper.
Johnnie glared at Cash. Undaunted, Cash glowered back.
“Lock the fuckin’ door,” Christopher ordered Digger. “Don’t need Megan or my boy comin’ in and seein’ this dead motherfucker.”
Usually, Christopher needed a minute to get everybody’s attention, but dead fuck did the trick. A fucking pin could’ve dropped and it would’ve been heard. He called the meeting to order, laid his nine on the podium, then scowled at Slipper.
“Tell me the fuckin’ reason my treasurer and explosive’s technician got tied the fuck up,” he opened.
“They were fucking each other,” Slipper announced.
“Don’t say shit that’ll get you fucked up,” Cash fumed.
“Shut the fuck up, Ghost,” Christopher demanded, fed the fuck up. He narrowed his eyes at Slipper. “Ghost right, motherfucker. Lies get a motherfucker fucked the fuck up.”
Slipper licked his lips. “Not no lies, Outlaw. They were in Cash’s room arguing.”
“We fucking argue all the time,” Val clapped back. “That don’t mean shit.”
“Not with us,” Slipper insisted. “With them, it do. Stretch was at Cash’s when you sent me to get him, Outlaw. The day Fee was stabbed up. I heard his voice and saw his bike. When Cash walked out of his bedroom, he was fucking naked.”
Christopher hadn’t known that. Still, that wasn’t a motherfucker’s business.
“This shit ending today,” he snarled. Stupid motherfuckers was the goddamn bane of society. “We each other’s brothers. We ain’t here to fuck up each other, if a motherfucker ain’t commitin’ a grave offense. We about brotherhood.”
He let that hang in the air before he lifted his piece, stepped over Mink’s body, then walked amongst his members. “Slipper, if you woulda walked up on them fuckin’, what the fuck you woulda done?”
“Brought them in to you.”
Everybody knew he’d fucked up Cowboy and crew. Speculations as to why ran fucking rampant, but nothing had ever been confirmed. It ranged from him finding Cowboy fucking another motherfucker to the fucking truth, so, of course, Slipper would expect turning Cash and Stretch into Christopher was the right thing.
At least, he hadn’t said he’d kill them.
Christopher looked at Slipper’s eldest son, Orange. His ma must’ve known he’d patch in when she named him. “What the fuck you woulda done?”
Orange nodded in the direction of Slipper, chewing gum. “Called Daddy.”
Who, in turn, would’ve called Christopher. Fucking fine. Still not murder. Christopher went to Slipper’s youngest. “You, Fritz?”
“Called Orange.”
Obviously, a chain-of-fucking command amongst the rancid motherfucker and his sons. They were overzealous but controllable.
Christopher stared at Mink’s cousin, already knowing the motherfucker would be a problem, just because Christopher had blasted Mink the fuck away. It didn’t matter that they were amongst Orange and Fritz’s inner circle. They answered to each other. “You, Rock?”
“Shot them like Mink said.”
That’s what the fuck Christopher thought. To save bullshit later, he shot the motherfucker now.
Orange hurried to Slipper and hid behind him, as Slipper yanked Fritz out of Christopher’s line of fire.
“Ain’t shootin’ another motherfucker at the moment,” Christopher announced with disgust, not impressed with Fritz and Orange cowering behind Slipper. “At least not fuckin’ yet.” He walked amongst the members, looking each one of them in the eye. Not a motherfucker spoke. Not even his boys. They knew he was on fucking edge after being cooped up for seven fucking days and away from Megan. “I just ask motherfuckers to respect each fuckin’ other. That I gotta police grown as men and be your fuckin’ conscience—” such as it was, “ain’t amusin’ to my ass. I fucked up Mink and Rock cuz even if I woulda told them to get the fuck outta my club, they woulda been startin’ shit. I ain’t got time for that.”