Chapter 8: Tirone: Chapter 8

I explained Jo’s situation to my crew. Molar, Fort, Hook, Texas and Marshall.

Twisted jaws, hooked brows and jaded eyes stared back at me. Were they pissed or just feeling the shit we were in?

“I will protect Jo no matter what.” I had to make that clear.

“So will we,” Molar said without hesitation. “The question is how? We can’t hide her, and you can’t reject the invitation. Both will confirm the Lanzas’ doubts. At the same time, you can’t go to the party. Who knows who’s gonna be there? Maybe they’ll invite the fucking Larvins for fuck’s sake. She won’t be able to fool them. Nobody can look their fucking daddy in the eye and convince him they’re not his. Hell, even if she could, the Lanzas wouldn’t care. They’ll just say she is and throw her as bait to their new buddies.”

Fort sighed. “There’s no option but to go to war.”

“It means we’re all fucked,” Marshall said. “We can’t fight the mob on our own. That’s two fucking powerful families we’re talking about here.”

“We can ask for help,” Hook rasped, the painkillers taking a toll on his voice. Doc had loaded him up after Jo shot him.

“So can they,” Texas mumbled. “But let’s say we can outnumber them, other chapters, friendly clubs and the cartel won’t just come to rescue Prez’s old lady. They will want something in return.”

“Well, we have two weeks to try. We won’t say anything about Jo, not yet. It can put her in danger before we know who is on our side and who ain’t. We’ll just tell them about the new forming alliance between the Lanzas and the Larvins on our turf. Let’s hear what they have to say, and if what they want in return is reasonable, I’m down. Yay or nay?” I said.

“Fuck the Lanzas. Yay.” Molar gave the first vote. They all followed. Unanimous vote.

I scratched my beard. “There’s another thing we need to vote on.”

Molar rolled his eyes at me. “You can’t be serious. He’s in diapers, and he doesn’t know shit about the MC, our bylaws, what we do to earn our respect around town.”

“He’s ready, Molar, and he’s earned my trust. If you trust me, you’ll give him the cut.”

He just shook his head.

I nodded at Fort. He opened the door and called for Rex. My boy entered and took one of the seats lines against the wall.

“Tirone Lazzarini wishes to patch in,” I said with pride, scratching Delilah’s maiden fucking name he took instead of mine and put my last name next to his. My boy, my blood, and soon my second hand. “Would you give him his cut, yay or nay?”

With a sigh, Molar fixed his gaze on the wall across. “You know I trust you with my life, bro, but nay.”

I pursed my lips and glanced at Fort. He took a minute, and then he said, “Hell yeah. It’s Prez’s boy, y’all. He’s fucking family.”

The rest voted for Rex, too, leaving a permanent scowl on my VP’s face. I knew he had nothing against my son. Molar wasn’t the kind to trust easy. That was why he was my VP. He was the sound of reason if I was blind by emotion. God knew my temper didn’t make shit easy, and recently I discovered my heart wasn’t all black, and that could be the worst kind of blind.

I patted his back, knowing he was giving Rex tough love for his own good. He rose and brought the cut himself. After I read Rex the rules, and he took his oath, I gave him his cut.

Putting the Night Skulls’ cut on my boy was one of the happiest moments of my life. Fuck, I was as happy as the day he was born. “Welcome to the Night Skulls. Are you sticking to Rex?”

“Yes,” he said.

My brothers tapped the table with their fists in salutation and roared in celebration. Then I informed him about Jo. He took it surprisingly well.

“Until then, Miss Meneceo should act normally,” he said.

“Yeah, she’s a young, uptown teacher, and has no kids of her own. She won’t sit around on her ass all day,” Marshall, the wise ass Treasurer, said. “She has to find a job and do her thing, and then go to the mall or whatever bitches do these days.”

“I won’t let her go out alone,” I said. “And y’all have a lot of work to do. Me, too. Who’s gonna drive her around and keep an eye on her?”

“I can do it,” Rex said.

“Do you even know how to fight? Or shoot? Have you ever fired a gun, Rex?” Molar asked.

“Yes, and yes. I have yet to take a life, but I will if I have to.”

“Puh-lease. You can’t shoot a hen.”

“Furore, think about it,” Rex told me. “I—”

“Prez,” Molar interrupted. “He’s Prez now.”

“Prez,” Rex amended with a scoff, “she will work at a school. I’m a student. We, in the same school, will look normal and won’t raise any suspicions. I get to go and leave with her, which means she’ll always have someone to watch over her, and the mob ain’t that stupid to pull any shit on campus.”

Molar narrowed his eyes at Rex. “I thought you dropped out.”

“Well, that’s about to change.”

“It’s a fine idea,” Hook rasped, “not that your ol’ lady needs any protection.”

Fort and Marshall laughed.

Texas jabbed a finger at them. “That shit ain’t funny. My leg is half-broken.”

“How can it be half-broken? It’s either broken or not,” Marshall said.

They were going to bicker, so I gaveled. “Church dismissed.” I turned to Rex. “I like the idea, but I can’t say yes. Not until I ask her first.”

“What do you think she’s gonna say?”