Page 67 of Red's Peril: Part 1

Brick coughs but takes out his pack of smokes and lights one. He draws in the smoke deep, and it seems to calm his lungs. I frown, a temporary reprieve I would expect, they can’t be good for him.

Nevertheless, most men, including myself, follow his example and light up.

Brick bangs the gavel and taps at the papers he’s placed in front of him. “There’s only one reason why we’re here today, Brothers, and that ain’t no secret. It’s to vote in the man who can fill the shoes Rainman had walked in.” He pauses, takes another drag, then continues, “I need a man to be my second, a man capable not only of leading, but being able to get others to follow him. The club needs a man who can think on his feet. Each of you might have ideas as to who that man is.” He takes another pause as he examines their faces.

“It’s up to each of you to put forward the name of who you’d most like to see in the seat next to me.” He slides half the blank pieces of paper toward Fox and gives the other half to Crash. “Put the name of the man you think is right for VP on the paper. We’ll see where we are when that’s completed.”

I’m surprised he didn’t put forward the name of the man he wants as his number two, but maybe there’s a reason for giving everyone a chance. The main problem is finding a fucking pen to write with. Most of us have knives, but Joker’s option for stabbing a name out or Cuff’s for writing it in blood was turned down.

Fox, at last, produces a pen and we pass it around. I deliberately don’t try to look at what the brothers beside me are writing, and I see more than a few cupping with their non-dominant hand to protect their chosen name from prying eyes. Inwardly I grin. I’d place good money only two men would be named, it’s just a question of who comes out on top.

I double over my paper in half, then for good measure fold it again, and push it into the middle of the table, then sit back and fold my arms. Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can move on.

“Fox. You up for counting?”

Fox nods and reaches out his hand, pulling the stack of folded paper toward him. Meticulously he takes the top one, straightens it and smooths it out. He perches his probably unneeded glasses on his nose and reads out, “Red.”

What the fuck?

I glance around, wondering who the fuck could have proposed me, but not one face gives anything away. I nevertheless feel I have to defend myself. “I didn’t write that.”

“That was an option?” Joker’s eyes open wide. “Fuck, I’d have proposed myself.”

There are snorts all around. Joker’s a good sort, but VP material he is not. Much like myself.

Fox has the second paper straightened. “Red.”

This has got to be some kind of fucking joke. I narrow my eyes, waiting for the laughs, then watch as he takes another vote and opens it up. Now, surely, we’ll get one of the serious contenders.

“Red.”

My eyes go to Brick, expecting to see him frowning, but one side of his mouth is turned up.

“Crash.”

Thank fuck.That’s a rightful vote. Now there’ll be more to come.

“Red.”

“Red.”

“This is getting boring.” Rope slides down in his chair.

I growl at him.Boring?It’s anything but. I’m just pre-occupied trying to work out what the fuck’s going on.

The next few votes are opened and for each the same name is pronounced.Every one of the fuckers voted for me.The one vote for Crash had to have come from myself.

Stunned, I don’t know whether I can believe it. Me, VP? The words don’t compute. I can’t fucking comprehend. I’m not counting my chickens yet either. There were two names, now we’ll vote on them both. Crash should get his rightful place, the one he’s worked for and earned.

As the final vote has been counted, Brick picks up the gavel. “Red’s VP.”

As the men around me start hollering, I slap my hand down. “Hold up. There are two names put forward—”

Crash raises his hand. “I’m happy where I am. If need be, I withdraw my nomination.”

“Get your ass up there, Brother,” Twister shouts, pointing to the empty chair.

“Congrats, VP!”

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