xxi. making up with Denver
"SCOTLAND," DENVER CALLED out, smirking from ear to ear. "When did you get here? I didn't know you were coming down to the states. How's your old man doing?"
They embraced one another in a manly hug, while Scotland spoke in a soft tone, "We need to talk. Is there somewhere we could go that's more . . . private?"
"Yeah," he said, leading him down to the meeting room the club never used. As soon as they got in through the doors and had them locked, Scotland turned to him with a stern look on his face, making Denver ask what was wrong.
"You know what's wrong? Jackson had your little Vice President firecracker pull a gun on me this morning; that's what's wrong!" He yelled out in a whisper, trying to keep the rest of the club unaware of the situation, "They thought I was the one behind the fire or that I ratted them out to the Mexicans!"
"That's insane; why would you rate out Jim Crow to the Mexicans?" Denver asked, surprised Rinn was even carrying her Rossi 462 around without telling him. Then again, they weren't exactly talking right now, anyway, so what reason did she have to let him know?
Sighing, Denver ran a hand through his short hair and took a look out the window, "Why did they call you down here to deal with internal affairs, anyhow? Do you know something?"
"It was the warehouse in Portland that got torched. That's property you all rent from my family, through me. Business is shit right now, Denver. We need you in both Vancouver and Toronto," he stated, sitting down on the opposite end of the table from the President chair.
Denver took a seat to his left, not used to being at the table, again. He spoke quietly to Scotland, not wanting the rest of the club to hear, "You know I can't step away, now. We both want an end game here, but I have no idea what's going on inside the club right now. I can't just abandon my brothers and sisters at a time like this."
"I didn't say abandon," Scotland snapped. "I said your brothers need you in Canada. We're going through more shit than you even realize. Things aren't running smoothly; the sequence of drop off and pick up that you created isn't working out. We need someone -- by someone, I mean you -- to come and fix it."
Denver shook his head, standing quickly. As he spoke, the door swung open, "You need to handle your own shit, Scotland. I'm not going to keep cleaning up after you and your messes. That's not why I created the system."
"What's this about?" Jackson's voice bellowed out, catching Denver's attention. As Rinn followed in behind him, she watched his expression. He didn't say anything; he didn't even look in her direction. He kept his eyes on either Jackson, Scotland or the wall while she took a seat in the VP chair.
"Scotland says he wants me in Vancouver and Toronto," Denver stated, unhappy with his request. "I know the running north of us isn't going well but right now, we have bigger fish to fry . . . So, if you would like to inform me of what's going on, I would greatly appreciate that."
"Shut the door, Scotland," Jackson ordered, causing him to stand and head over to the door. Once they were all seated as close as possible to one another, Jackson took in a deep breath and looked around.
That's when Rinn started talking, staring directly at Denver with each word she said.
"Someone in the club turned," she stated.
"What do you mean turned?" He asked, confused. Did she mean someone ratted? Did she mean someone turned over and created a Rico case? Or was it something else; something bigger than he ever thought anyone possible to do? Like turn their back on the brotherhood of Jim Crow without a second thought?
YOU ARE READING
Miss Mayhem
Aksi"Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I don't like the face staring back at me," she whispered, looking down at the floor. Her feet were small in front of his and it was then that she realized how close he really was to her. He frowned, asking, "W...
