Page 7 of Being Lost

“Gonna take more people on?” Dart asks.

Salem shrugs before answering, “It’s a matter of room. We’ve got about as many as the shop will hold. If we expand, we could.”

“We can speak later,” Dart suggests. “Maybe we can get the shop extended. I don’t like turning away work.”

Salem seems satisfied.

“I’ve an idea.” Niran raises his hand. “Why not do up one of the old hangars, bring the custom builds there? Leaves the shop free to take on more of the regular shit.”

Salem leans forward and stares down the table. Slowly his mouth curves. “Good fuckin’ idea, Brother.” Turning around, he addresses me next. “Be good security wise, too. I know the shops well-alarmed and as secure as we can make it, but some of the work we’re doing is on valuable rides.”

I can’t see anything wrong with the proposal. It’s not as if we’re short of space. Years back and well before my time, the club took over a disused airfield and adapted one of the hangars to become our clubhouse. “The second hangar’s at least been made weatherproof. Yeah, good idea. Look into it, Salem. Okay, what you got, Blaze?”

“Tattoo parlour’s doing good, Prez.” A short, sharp and concise update, I can’t complain about that.

I raise my chin toward Bones, who nods to confirm it.

Brakes takes a moment to tell us about the strip club, requesting funds for redecoration which after some discussion, is agreed. Deuce, who manages our bar and restaurant, also confirms things are going well.

“And the new business?” Dart probes.

It had been Keeper, Dave as he was known while he was a prospect, who’d come up with the idea. When he’d presented a business proposal, we ran with it. It was to have a store which sold biker apparel, helmets, safety glasses, accessories and clothing. Good quality, but we were able to undercut the major retailers by using lesser known brands and cater for people who just wanted a good quality jacket but didn’t care what logo was on it. As luck would have it, a store had closed down close to our auto-shop and we snapped it up. It had been big enough to put a small coffee station in it and had become a place for bikers to meet.

“It has started turning a profit, VP.” Bones answers Dart’s question, jerking his chin toward Keeper.

It looks like church is going to be a short one. No problems. Just how I like it. “Anyone got anything else to bring to the table?” They haven’t. I pick up the gavel...

“Prez?”

I wait until Smoker finishes his coughing fit, and then nod. “Any more on Shark?”

The good mood is immediately shattered. “Nah, but just keep your eyes open and ears to the ground. Hopefully he’s only made a flying visit and left town. But if you do see him, I want to talk to him.”

“Motherfucker will have gone if he knows what’s good for him.”

I raise my chin toward Snips but hope that conversation has shut down. No need to rehash the betrayal and keep it fresh in our minds. Again, I pick up the gavel.

“Prez?”

I sigh, but it’s our data and security guy, Hard Token. He’d picked up his name after he harped on and on about the need for hard tokens to access our businesses. In user speak it meant using a key card system to get in.

“What you got, Token?”

“I waited until we’d finished everything else as I thought this might take more than a minute.” So my hopes for a short meeting have just been wrecked. I raise an eyebrow toward him. Token nods. “Had a cryptic message sent to me.”

“Cryptic?”

“Well, I don’t know who it’s from, or how legit it is.”

“And what does it say, Brother?” Jeez, this is like pulling teeth.

He taps at the tablet in front of him. “I’ll read it. It saysUp the security around the woman and her son that you are watching.”

There’s an intake of breaths around the table.

“Is that it?” Dart snaps. “Did you reply?”

Token shrugs. “No way to reply.” He looks around, noticing all eyes are on him. “This wasn’t an email, nor an instant message. It didn’t appear on WhatsApp or anything like that.”

---