POWERHOUSE

Later that evening, the men are congregated around the homemade firebox out back when Shamus asks, “When are we going to move forward with our plan?”

“I say we start dropping breadcrumbs tomorrow,” Master answers.

“Yo, Texas. I need another,” Charlee calls out, holding her cup high in the air. Malice made some sort of wager with Texas, Texas lost, and now he’s the women’s personal servant for the evening.

The guys get a good laugh when Texas comes scurrying out of the house with an apron tied around his waist.

“How did you manage that again?” I ask Malice.

A smile forms on his face when he retells the story. “I made a bet with him. He lost. That, ladies,” he says pointing at Texas, “is my prize.”

“You still won’t tell us what the bet was?” Master probes.

“Jessia was frowning when I entered our room. I told him if he could get her into bed and wrangle an orgasm out of her, I’d buy him a year's supply of beer and replace his muffler on his bike with that new one he saw in that magazine last week. If he lost, this was his payment. Let’s just say, Jessia wasn’t all that happy and found his sexual prowess less than welcoming through her hangover fog.”

“It’ll humble him,” Kruger states, cutting his hands through the air. “Since he’s not here, the adults can talk and get shit set in stone.”

“Because you’re one to talk,” Shamus conveys. “You’re always instigating shit.”

“That’s because y’all are easy prey,” Kruger counters. “What’s the matter, Shamus, did your lucky four-leaf clover disappear?”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Shamus probes.

“Don’t let him bait you, Shamus. He’s blowing smoke up your ass waiting for a hint of a reaction from you that he can turn the tables on and pounce,” Gunner contends. “Just ignore him like the annoying gnat that he is.”

“That’s bullshit, Gun, and you know it,” Kruger huffs. “Asshole.”

“Better to be an asshole than a whole ass,” Ella scoffs, leering at Kruger.

“Ella,” Shamus reprimands, but the smile on his face says he’s not as offended by her words as he’s trying to come across as. He actually appears to be proud of Ella’s comeback.

“Where did she come from?” Kruger asks, scanning for the other kiddos, bewildered that she snuck up on us.

“I got bored and wanted to hang out with my best friend,” Ella says, patting her dad’s shoulder as she climbs into his lap. “Missed you, Dad.”

“Aww, love bug, I’ve missed you too,” Shamus coos.

“Isn’t that… sweet,” Kruger mumbles. “Make her go away, Shamus.”

“Stop yer whining, dickhead,” Shamus says, smirking.

“Why are you trying to get rid of me, Uncle Kruger?”

“Yeah, Uncle Kruger. Why are you trying to get rid of her?” I ask, amused with the little girl and her bantering.

“Because the adults need to talk,” Kruger rebuts.

Ella sighs, stands up, holds her hand out for Kruger and says, “Come on, Uncle Kruger. We’ve gotta go so the adults can talk.”

Kruger gives Shamus a side-eyed look and points his finger at him. “This,” he starts off, pointing a finger at Ella before saying, “is your fault.”

“That’s what her mother says too,” Shamus says, beaming. “Where’s Judd? Aren’t you on big sister duty, baby girl?”

“He doesn’t do anything but drool,” Ella pouts, crossing her arms across her chest, sticking out her bottom lip.

“Then go hang out with Oakley and Juniper,” Shamus suggests to his daughter.

“Fine. But they’re not as fun as you are.” She stomps away, never once looking back our way.

“She’s a pistol,” Gunner says, shaking his head. “One day, she’s gonna run this club.”

“Instead of training her as a future enforcer, maybe you should take the mantle and teach her about your position,” Master states. “Lord knows that kid’s gonna have the boys eating out of the palm of her hand.”

“Back to dropping breadcrumbs,” I say, redirecting the conversation… again. This seems to have become my role in the club.

“So, we’ll get the word out there that Master and Aspen are on the outs, and he’ll be staying at the studio’s apartment while they work shit out?” Gunner requests.

“Yeah. I’d rather not,” Master interjects. “Our home is out too. I won’t have this shit touching our home or Aspen’s place of business.”

“Then where do we state he’s hovelling up at?” Malice questions.

“Why not the lodge? It’s usually vacant this time of year. We bought it last month and haven’t had time for any renovations. It’d be feasible that he’s there and working on revamping the place so we can get it ready to reopen,” Country states.

“Then some of us would need to make an appearance during the day and put some work in so our cover isn’t blown,” Gunner adds. “Y’all in?”

“Yeah. We’ll let the old timers, Beckett, and Romeo stay back and watch over the girls,” Kruger states.

“Wait. Why am I being left out of the loop?” Romeo asks.

“Because we wouldn’t want your sensitive, creative hands to get blisters,” Kruger laughs.

“We all know you’re a lover and not a fighter, Romeo,” Shamus cackles. “Can’t ruin your pretty boy looks.”

“Y’all are some jealous assholes,” Romeo mutters. “But in this instance, you're right, I can’t craft any art if my hands are blistered.” Romeo is a painter and sculptor. He sells his pieces to a gallery in Houston and earns a large bucket of dough.

“I get tail nightly and don’t have to go on the prowl for it,” Kruger rebuts. “I’m not the one who’s jealous here.”

“I’m too damn young and good looking to get saddled with one woman. I share my love with the women of the world,” Romeo debates. “Why should I make them suffer the loss of my dick? That’s just cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Jesus, fucker. Your dick isn’t made of solid gold,” Malice alleges, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re too god damned full of yourself, Romeo.”

“I’m just telling you what my lovers have told me,” Romeo rebuts. “I have no reason to doubt their words. They’re wise ladies who share their wisdom with me whenever we meet up.”

“Lovers? As in plural? Are the club bunnies included in your harem list of lovers?” I ask in bewilderment.

“I can’t disappoint the girls, of course they’re included in my list,” Romeo scoffs. “What do you take me for? A barbarian?”

“No, just a fucking idiot,” Kruger huffs.

“I’ve got a question,” Shamus says, raising his hand. “Do they all think they’re the only ones warming your bed?”

“Anyway,” Romeo says, changing the subject. “I’ll stay behind while y’all do all of the manual labor work. Am I the ladies' escort, or the club’s watchman?”

“You’re not going anywhere near my old lady,” Gunner snips, rolling his eyes at Romeo.

“Damn, Gun. Your woman would cut my dick off, no offense, but she’s safe from me,” Romeo advises. “You too, Country. Your woman scares me.”

“Don’t worry, Romeo. Charlee scares the piss out of me too,” Country admits earning himself sympathy from us men.

Country, our newly appointed club secretary, rushes off to get a notepad so he can make a list of materials we’ll need to order to keep the pretense of construction at the lodge looking legit.

SALEM

“I’m never drinking again,” I swear as I send an accusatory look toward the instigator of the group, Charlee.

“Hey, I resent that sneer, lady,” Charlee chuffs. “I offered but I didn’t pour the shit down your throat.”

“Might as well have. Anytime one of us declined you’d make clucking sounds,” Star adds. “That’s a dare if I’ve ever heard one and none of us will ever back down and you know it.”

“I may have instigated and led the charge, but you're all big girls, and you all know how to say the word no,” Charlee argues back. “You’re all good now, though. None of you look miserable anymore. Especially if you’re all ganging up on me.”

“I’ll never admit this out loud, to anyone, but Texas was right about his remedy,” Cameron admits.

“I still think he’s the devil in hiding,” I insert. “I’m convinced that shit he shoved at me and forced me to ingest was pure poison disguised inside a pretty package.”

“Your cup was a pretty package?” Stella asks.

“For clarification, I’m a tomato juice fanatic. I have a glass every Sunday while reading the paper. It’s my cleansing day and the only day ending in Y that I don’t have coffee in the morning. So yes, for me, it was poison inside of a pretty package.”

“Oh, look at that. My glass of Gatorade is empty again. Texas! Refill!” Charlee hollers.

With solidarity of sisterhood, we all hold our cups above our heads and bellow, “We’re empty too!”

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of Texas in an apron, serving us. “Thanks,” I smirk as he refills my glass.

“Mine needs to be topped too,” Jessia adds, schooling her features as she pushes her cup out to be filled. “Thanks, babe.”

“Welcome, baby cakes,” Texas coos, leaning down and laying a loud, boisterous smack on her lips. “Love ya.”

“Love you back, Texas. Now get busy and serve us, I’m getting hungry. Are you ladies hungry?”

“I could eat,” Stella admits.

“Same,” I concur. Now that I don’t feel as though I’m going to lose the insides of my stomach, I’m ready to eat. Preferably something greasy.

“Whatcha gonna make us, Texas?” Charlee questions.

“Shit on the shingles if you don’t watch your sass,” Texas sneers, his scowl aimed at Charlee. She hates… no she loathes sausage and gravy mixed and he damn well knows it.

“Bite me,” Charlee snaps.

“No thanks. I’ve felt your teeth before,” Texas replies with a snarky tone. “Still have the scars to show for it too.”

“I was twelve, Texas!” Charlee yells, her face red with embarrassment. “And you deserved it for throwing away my straight A award.”

“And yet, you’re still a hellion,” he berates.

“You know my family and how I was raised, do you honestly expect anything less?” she retorts.

“Yes. Ma never bit anyone,” he rebuffs. “She had class, we all thought the apple wouldn’t fall too far from the tree with you.”

“Ma didn’t have to bite anyone, y’all were never assholes to her,” Charlee says.

“That’s because Pops would take us in the ring and beat us senseless if we didn’t treat her with the utmost respect.”

“Well, keep it up and I’ll take you to the ring and remind you exactly why I’m my father’s daughter,” she sneers.

“Country, get your woman under control,” Texas thunders.

“Yeah, not gonna happen in this lifetime,” Country replies. “I’m not touching that bullshit with a ten-foot pole, Texas. You bought what she’s saying, brother, by engaging her ass in the conversation to begin with.”

I can’t help myself; I start snickering at the back-and-forth ribbing. It’s obvious Charlee has the brothers’ respect, but they’re going to tease and harass her because they know she’ll react.

Of course, she’s never disappointed us with her sharp and witty comebacks. “I’ve got your ten-foot pole, Texas. Wanna see it?” Charlee asks with a demented laugh.

“Fuck no,” Texas mutters, stomping inside to make us some food. Peals of laughter echo throughout the field, the surrounding area is vibrating with animated and vibrant humor. As he heads off, I swear I hear him mutter, “It’s probably bigger than mine.” But since I can’t be sure that’s exactly what he said, I bite my lip in an attempt to keep my giggling at bay.

Leave it to Texas and Charlee to make a high-strung situation become one that’s filled with liveliness. You can feel the tension lighten up as we go back to prior conversations.