“Are you all in on the bet or not?” Torrin asked with impatience before Cash responded.
“What’s the odds?” Digger lit a cigarette and took a few drags, then set it in the ashtray. “I might be in.”
Bishop’s eyes lit up. Mortician glared at him. “Motherfucker, you get fucked up,Iget fucked up. Remember the Potter situation because of Eric and Billy?”
Potter winced. “I’m not even in this, Mort. Why are you ruining my fucking night, reminding me how close I came to dying because of two fucking fuckheads?”
“Mort—”
“Shut up, son,” Mort interrupted Bishop. “Step the fuck back or I’m preemptively fucking you up.”
“This is a free fucking country, Mortician,” Digger said angrily. “The man don’t have to agree with you. Now, what the fuck are the odds before I bet my money? Been on a string of bad luck lately. This might turn that around.”
Alarm raced through Mortician. “What type of bad luck—”
“The odds are 1-3,” Bishop interrupted, throwing Mortician an uneasy look.
As he fucking should.
Besides Mort and Digger, Bishop was the only other black member of the club, and Mort hadn’t sponsored Bishop for the littlemotherfucker to come in and align with stupid fuckheads whose brains would end up as spattered as Torie’s. “You honestly sitting there and saying you think there’s a seventy-five percent chance Prez fucking over Meggie?”
“Again,” Digger said smugly. “Don’t forget to add that.”
“Prez never fucking cheated on Meggie girl,” Mort snarled. “Don’t need to addagain.”
“Do any of you motherfuckers even like the woman?” Val asked.
“I used to like her,” Digger grouched.
“Remember that when you’re shoveling down the snacks she keeps for you,” Stretch snapped. He glared at Cash. “I suppose you’re joining the bet?”
“I might think Sweetness has become a little blind to the reality of club life and the man her husband is, but I’d never betray her.”
“You just fucking did, asshole,” Stretch sneered.
“I disagree. Your man just passed an opinion, bruh, but he right.” Digger nodded at Narci. “Put me down for a grand.”
The timer on Stretch’s phone chimed and the device vibrated.
“Don’t turn the cameras on yet,” Digger ordered.
“We like Meggie,” a newer member called, trusting Stretch to follow Digger’s dictates. “But she puts too much stock in her pussy and the influence she has over Outlaw.”
“Yeah, we don’t give a fuck that he iced Torie,” someone else called. “Cunts are a dime a dozen. But Meggie throws around her weight to the bitches, especially Nyx. A run-in with Meggie puts Nyx in a bad fucking mood.”
“That cunt stay in a bad mood,” another brother called.
The brothers snickered.
“I prefer Nyx’s bitchery to Meggie’s fake power trip.”
“What the fuck you motherfuckers drinking?” Val demanded.
“Stupid Motherfucker Juice,” Mort decided. “They forgot Outlaw just fucked up a woman because she insulted Meggie. The shock wore off.”
“C’mon, Mort,” the same new-ish motherfucker who claimed to like Meggie said. “You know we’re telling the truth. We’re told not to cross her if we don’t want Outlaw’s wrath. When he heard us talking about how we think he fucked Torie or at least got his cock sucked by her, he didn’t do shit.”
Yeah, that was on Prez. Fuck, on Mort, Val, Digger, Cash, Stretch, Johnnie, and her sons, too.They’ddisrespected her first.