“It’s too early to tell,” I say.
“Do we think the Psychos are even capable of setting up something like this?” Axe asks. “Dumb cunts aren’t too fucking smart.”
A chuckle of approval moves around the table.
“Axe is right,” Viking says. “What’s the likelihood they’ve set up a manufacturing operation? That costs money.”
“Doesn’t mean they’re not manufacturing it,” Lars says. “They’d only need someone to fund it. Unless they’ve been able to cash themselves up, which I doubt.”
“If they are, then it’s not in their piece-of-shit clubhouse. It means they would have a warehouse somewhere.” And if they do, I am going to burn it to the ground. I look at Lars. “We start tailing the Psychos’ comings and goings. I want eyes on that clubhouse and when someone leaves it, I want to know where they are going and what they are doing, and who the fuck they’re doing it with.”
If the Psychos are manufacturing this synthetic phantasia, then one of them is going to lead us to where they are doing it.
The room rumbles in agreement.
I lift my gavel but Viking speaks up.
“Before you bring the gavel down on Church, let me remind everyone about the Twilight Barbecue tonight,” he says. “You know my old lady has run this thing for the last couple of decades, so I expect all you fuckers to show up and give her and the other old ladies your full support.”
Internally, I groan.
With everything going on with the Psychos, not to mention my bride to be, I had forgotten about the Twilight Barbecue.
Every year, the Knights put on a carnival barbecue night. A place for the townspeople to eat and socialize with the Knights and each other. There’s a barbecue tent, a chili tent, and cotton candy, popcorn, and corndog stands. After eating, families canride the couple of carnival rides we have assembled and enjoy a live band. It’s an annual fundraiser with the proceeds going to the children’s hospital. The Knights have held it for more than thirty years. It keeps us in touch with the townspeople. Keeps them on our side. Much to Mayor Boney’s disgust. Because it doesn’t help his campaign against us.
But with so much happening, it feels more like a pain in the ass right now. But not holding it would break tradition.
Not to mention, Viking’s wife would break my balls if I don’t show.
Besides, bad timing aside, it’s good for the town.
It’s also a good opportunity to flaunt Belle as my wife to be.
As the room clears, Viking gives me the same shit-eating grin I’ve seen on his son’s face a lot. “The girl you were with last night? She was a surprise. I thought what they were saying about you having a girl in town was just rumor.”
“Get to the point, old man,” I say.
“No point, it’s just good to see.” He pats me on my shoulder. It’s a fatherly gesture, and it surprises me when I feel it deep in my chest.
But I shove the feeling away. I let go of my need for fatherly approval the day Dodger disappeared.
Viking’s light blue eyes study my face. “You like this girl.”
“Yes, that’s why I asked her to marry me.”
Before he can reply, I catch the eye of one of our prospects. “Find Belle and bring her to me.”
He nods and makes his way out of Church, and I return my attention back to Viking.
“Well this is a fucking surprise,” he says with a grin.
“Like you’ve been telling me for months, it’s time to find a bride. So I went out and found one.”
“This is a good thing, son. I know you haven’t exactly been thrilled about the idea.”
Understatement. He knows I see marriage is as appealing as a bullet right in the fucking eye.
“When’s the wedding?”