Page 1 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
Chapter 1
A Bar Outside Sturgis, South Dakota, August 14, 2022—Jackson
What would happen when the conqueror became a king?Would he grow fat and lazy, relying on old methods to maintain his position, or would he dare risk failing by using a fresh approach to consolidate power?It was easy to see where my ‘boss,’ Nonno, fit on that spectrum.
The National President of the Destroyers MC sat on a specially carved wooden chair.It rested on a dais of hastily cobbled plywood spray-painted black with automotive primer that was so fresh it seeped into the porous surface.The grain of the cover veneer got more visible with each second.
Around him, the tableau was farcical.An easy spectacle, rampant with strippers, hookers, booze, loud music, and bikers like me paying homage to their new leader.
I was present as a witness and an accomplice.As the lord-baron of my very own fiefdom, I participated in the spectacle with my center of power strategically placed off to one side with my crew.Including me, our group totaled six.I should’ve brought more.Pittsburgh’s president brought twelve, for fuck’s sake.Then again, he always had a thing for numbers between ten and twenty.
“Jackson, have you seen the—” Sprout’s words were cut short by the approach of Hanger—which was the shortened version of “Hang HerHigh”—the road name of Chicago’s Sergeant at Arms.He had biceps four times bigger than my VP’s.Despite the bulk, Hanger could reach almost as far as Sprout, my club’s secretary, an officer position more honorary than effectible.
“Hang,” I acknowledged him.
“Boss wants to see you.”
Fuck.When he saidBoss, he didn’t just mean his boss.Boss was, in relative terms,theboss.Where Chicago leaned, we all fell over ourselves to tilt further down the path.Nonno may be king in name, but Hang’s boss wastheboss.
“What thefuckdid we do now?”Sprout’s mouth was going to get us in trouble.Well, more trouble, one of these days.
But hell, trouble was my middle name.I tested the murky deep.“I’m right here.Does he need glasses?”I motioned to the table.If that motherfucker wanted to pull rank on me, he’d have to force my hand.With Nonno now firmly entrenched as the national president, Big G and I were on the same tier, mostly.
“Get your ass up.Bring two guys, not him.”Hanger indicated Sprout and walked away.I resisted the urge to flip him off.
An urge Sprout had no problem with.“Fucker.”He twisted up a double bird and let it rest for a few seconds before wisely hiding them under the table again.
I turned to my VP with a question, not a request.“Wolf?”As in, “what is your take on this, Wolf?”
“Divide and conquer?”he suggested as Big G’s strategy.
“Not on my watch.”
Wolf swore quietly under his breath, then muttered, “Tits is better at this shit than I am.”
His wife, goddammit, admittedly was light years better at this political crap than either of us.But I’d look like some sort of pansy installing her in an all-male club’s officer role.“She’s good at flashing those double-D’s.”I wasn’t trying to piss him off.It just came out of my piehole that way.
His jaw dipped sideways, proving he was either trying to swallow my sarcasm, or trying not to laugh.It could go either way.
“Bear, Skinner.”I picked my two, leaving Wolf with Grizzle and Sprout.Griz was a right bastard, and Sprout was fast.Blended with Wolf’s tactical sense, he was well protected.Bear was enough muscle to fuck with Hang.And Skinner?Well.If Big G wanted to talk about money, he was the right guy for it.
It also made me look “weak” taking a scrawny man like Skinner as one of my bodyguards.And that was the point.I was subtly insulting Big G by not bringing Griz.Moreover, it could be read as I trusted Big G not to fuck with me, therefore brought the B-Team, which wasn’t insulting at all.
Power was a funny thing.It was as alluring as beachfront property with warm breezes all year long.But it came equipped with land mines and was subject to flooding at any time.Therefore, as pretty as it was, I’d kept to the shadows as much as I could afford.
Big G sat near the center of the room and nearest to the catwalk where Nonno paraded his best strippers.Hookers jumped out of their seats and into laps to make room for me and mine.
“G.”I reached out for a slap of the hand.When he didn’t lift a finger, I diverted the action to a smack on the shoulder, proving I could touch him whenever I wanted.No one was immune.I settled into the chair a pretty little thing had just hopped off of.She had an ass like a peach.Sue me, it distracted me for a moment.
“I see you still have an eye for the ladies.”
“Plural.”I gave up trying to twist my head like an owl and faced Giovanni Accardo.Big G.One of three men in Chicago who had more say on world affairs than most foreign leaders.“Been a bit.What was it, bumfuck West Virginia?”He’d popped down to help our sister club and scope out expansion properties.That was working out well.
“We had those redneck cops shaking in their boots.”G smiled at the memory.
“Fucking great moonshine.I’ll send you some.”
“Walt already did.”
