Page 100 of Preacher Man

“Fuck you. What kind of prices are they? I want bike parts, not a box of working organs from a third world country.” Growled H.

“Those are the prices, my friend. Didn’t you tell him already, Preacher?”

“I did. What’s going on?”

“This mad fuck wants to double the price.”

Preacher looked at Genty who smirked. Testing. New customers and this crazy shit was trying to shake down the Renegade Souls. Preacher showed his teeth, felt Red Light come up on his side. For once Preacher wasn’t bothered by what Red said. This was club business. “Forget it.” he turned. So, did H.

“Now wait a minute.”

“We had a price set in stone the last time I was here, Genty, I’m only here ‘cause you got spooked and wanted me to bring the boys. The price was done. You renege on a RS deal? Then the deal's off, we can get a better price for parts elsewhere. Be seeing ya.”

“Those are the goddamn prices, for fuck's sake. Any lower I might as well give you it for free. And I ain’t about charity, not even for theSouls.”

Right as he said that the big dumb bodyguard reached into his inside jacket and pressed forward as if to stop Preacher from leaving. “Got a problem, my man?” Voice like death. He sensed Red come closer to his shoulder. And if he knew Red at all he would be glaring at gun-toting-Pete. He pushed back with his spine to tell him to back up, to let him handle it.

“The boss ain’t done with you’s.”

“Is that so? He just heard me very clearly I was done here.“

“I said. Boss ain’t done with you.”

“Leave it, Preach. Let’s roll.” Ordered H in his brash brogue.

Genty was forcing to have the upper hand, disappointing but no less shocking since he knew the guy of old, but not when a price was arranged and not when it was about his club. Preacher hated to walk away from a settlement, especially when the shop needed a supplier, but fuck it, he’d stay down here longer to scout out his other contacts who were not as reliable as Genty, but their price would be right.

“Move the fuck away, shithead,” Announced Red to the bodyguard and came up shoulder to shoulder with Preacher. Nothing charming in Red. He had about as much patience as a snapping cobra did.

“Genty.” Warned Preacher quietly, his eyes tracking over to his old associate. They’d done business over the years, Preacher using him for various things, and sure, every now and then Genty would try his hand for more money, it was business after all, he had respect for the guy up to a point.

Already Preacher’s head was sifting through who else he knew, there was that one guy he knew back in his army days who was now running his own auto repair, he could reach out and call in a favor. Taking a step around the bodyguard, Preacher’s path was blocked by the wide shoulders and intense stare. “Reach for your piece and you’ll lose a hand,” he told him.

“Boss ain’t done talking to you.”

The fucker had a script and was sticking to it.

“Step down, Ken.” Advised Genty in an irritated tone. He was trying to talk to H who was having none of the persuasion to try and get the deal back on track.

"Yeah, listen to your master, Kenny-boy." Red taunted.

Good old Ken had already raised an aggressive hand towards Preacher, grabbing his jacket around the shoulder.

That’s all it took for Red Light to lose his ever-loving shit. Barreling forward, he grabbed Ken by the front of his shirt, Red got in his face, snarling. “The fuck you think you’re doing, wiseass? You don’t put hands on my fucking brother!”

At that, two bodies from Genty’s SUV poured out. Preacher hadn’t even known there was anyone else in the blacked-out vehicle. They were equally wide and ugly.

Fucks sake.

He mentally braced. “Everyone needs to calm the fuck down,” he growled. He was too goddamn old for a fist fight out in the street like idiots.

And what do you know, no one calmed down. He took a surprise fist to the cheek.

And it was on.

Ten minutes later both Preacher and Red Light were sat on the curb of the sidewalk, breathing heavy, Red was using the hem of his shirt to wipe a smear of blood from the corner of his lip. Preacher was inspecting his grazed knuckles.

H was shaking hands with Genty. The deal was solidified. It had only taken a fast brawl to make it so. Talk about paying in blood. Preacher noticed Genty hadn’t gotten his hands dirty. Jackass.

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