Page 6 of Deacon

“Her ass better prepare to hogtie me because I bet I don’t walk into that damn motorcycle club willingly. She ain’t Patricia fucking Stephens, so I ain’t required to listen to her. Shit.” Ranting, I continue to work with a frown covering my lips, and tightness and wrinkling spreading across my forehead.

“Thankyou for assisting me with my loan, Mr. Redmond. Please let me take you out to dinner as thank you.”

I’m grateful for the desk separating me from the snow bunny with silicon breasts and heavily bleached hair. The lust in Ms. Ridge’s eyes and the continuous licking of her lips is a clear indication of what type of dinner she wants to have with me.

“I’ll pass,” I say deadpan as the smile slips from her lips, ushering in a deep frown.

“Why not? I can guarantee you will leave hap?—”

“I’ll be happier for not sacrificing my integrity or virtue, believe me. There is nothing I want from you. This ain’t that type of party. If there is nothing more, I gotta jet.”

I’ve been at this damn credit union for too many hours because my patience with thirsty women is extremely short. With Baxtown Iron having a club meeting, I can’t go home, which isn’t helping my disposition. I have been working with this woman for several months as she got her finances and debt in order, to secure the mortgage loan necessary to purchase a home.

“Well, I never,” she says, grabbing her purse and marching toward the door.

“That’s the problem… you will never. Best of luck finding a house, Ms. Ridge,” I say, smirking, although she didn’t hear me with how quickly she left my office as the security guard let her out the front door.

*zzit, zzit*

Looking down at my vibrating phone, my eyes tighten instantly, and all previous humor leaves my body as I answer the incoming call. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“While I understand the responsibility of your daytime activities, you are also obligated to us. Why aren’t you in attendance, son?”

John D. Baxter, better known as Bulldog, is the founder of Baxtown Iron and is a no-nonsense yet mentoring type of guy. Despite there being an active president in the club, Bulldog takes it upon himself to be a second father and disciplinarian with all the club’s officers. I should have known he would call me when I didn’t show up at my usual time. On meeting days, I’m one of the first people who holds a position to be at the clubhouse.However, time got away from me today, which is also why I rushed the thirsty blonde out of my office.

“I’m still at the office, having just finished with a client. Time got away from me, but I’m closing down now and will be there soon.”

“I’ll inform the others and have them delay for about twenty minutes so you don’t miss anything. See you soon, son.”

With that, the call ended, and I went about finishing my tasks so I could get out of here to head to the clubhouse. One thing about Bulldog is no matter how old you are, he refers to all of us brothers assonwhenever he speaks to us individually. He also isn’t one to raise his voice or berate you like a father can do when angry, which is why everyone respects him highly.

“You’re a better man than I am, young blood. I would have let bleached Barbie become a pass-around in the clubhouse had she propositioned me,” the security guard says, standing in the threshold of my office.

“If it ain’t melanin, me and my brothers are allergic. Hell, fucking with her would have my shit bumping up like a nigga with uncontrolled herpes. I’m cool.”

“Nah. Ms. Ridge got knees and a throat that will have you counting sheep in your sleep when she’s finished.”

This nigga.

“Maybe that’s why your mouth looks like a canvas of rejection to Blistex. You got it, though.”

Closing the last program, I shut down my computer, grab my bag, and head to the door as old boy looks like he wants to risk it all by throwing a punch. His eyes are tight, and his chest is heaving, causing a sinister smirk as I shoulder bump him on my exit.

“The difference between me and you right now is that I’m about that life. I dare you to mistake me for the suit and tie niggaI masquerade as.” My voice is low and challenging as I size this nigga up to see how I’m about to really end my workday.

His shoulders drop, and I nod before making my way to the exit as adrenaline runs through my body, charging me like a caffeinated drink.

“Be easy and avoid dark alleys,” I say when the front door is unlocked, and I pass through it without looking back.

Forty minutes later…

“Let’s call this meeting to order. The first item up for discussion is the open secretary position. You niggas don’t pay me to be recording issues, creating agendas, and remembering details of past meetings. We need to find someone to fill the slot expeditiously because I ain’t beat for this shit,” Diesel says, frowning.

“Well, maybe you should consider letting the women only fill that position and not the one in your bed with your dick-slinging ass,” Bulldog says.

Bulldog acts like he’s all of our father so I was slightly expecting him to point out Diesel’s mistakes, whether big or small.

“That’s a possibility,” Diesel says, nodding.

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