Page 15 of Spyder
I walk beside Cosmo, but my eyes are busy flitting this way and that, looking for potential trouble. Not that I’m worried about the Warriors doing us dirty like that. After all, Tarantula owes us one and if there is one thing that I’ve learned about him over the years, it’s that he pays his debts. He’s a loyal guy, and though we’re technically rival MCs, we’re bonded through business. And as far as I’m concerned, Tarantula’s word is gold. He’s never given us reason to doubt it before.
He and Cosmo shake hands, then embrace briefly before he turns and greets Bala the same way. I follow suit, shaking hands, then giving a quick embrace with a hard thump on the back. Standard greetings all around. But then, I step back and tap on the new plate on the front of Tarantula’s kutte.
“Presidente. Looks good on you.”
I say it partly to remind him it’s because of us he’s got that patch on his chest. If we hadn’t taken out the previous club president, he wouldn’t have it. And Bala wouldn’t be wearing theVice Presidentepatch on his. He looks at me, one corner of his mouth curling upward in a knowing smirk. He knows why I said it and is simply telling me he doesn’t need the reminder.
“How are things in your world?” Cosmo asks.
“In transition,ese,” Tarantula says. “Lots of change.”
“Lose anybody in your glorious coup?” I ask.
He nods, his face tightening. “Si mon,” he says, a tone of regret in his voice. “We lost eight good men when I took over. Loyal to the former pres. Can’t blame ’em for it, I guess.”
Bala spits on the ground, his face twisted with anger. “Should’ve capped ’em,jefe. Their loyalty shoulda been to the club first.”
Tarantula shrugged. “It’s all good. We’re rebuilding. We’ll build it in a better image than we had before.”
I nod. “You done with Zavala then?”
Tarantula scoffs, his lips curling downward into a frown. “Let’s do some business first. Then, we’ll talk about Zavala.”
I exchange a glance with Cosmo, uncertainty welling up inside of me. He doesn’t seem concerned though and gives a wave to Milo, who’s running the follow van today. Milo, whose club name is Nitro, thanks to love of blowing things up—he was a demolitions tech in the Corps—has been a full patch for a few years now. He’s in his mid-thirties, has dirty blond hair, a shaggy beard, and dark eyes. Burly would be a generous description; the guy is built like an NFL defensive end. He’s a good guy, though, and he’s loyal to the club. He’s a bit quiet sometimes, and he always seems to be caught up in his head. Cosmo says the dude went through some things over in the shit that he’s still trying to work through. Seems to be a common theme among the Pharaohs.
Milo comes over and hands the black duffel bag to Bala, who opens it up and takes out the brick of weed. He holds it up to his nose and inhales deeply, a smile crossing his face as he does. Seemingly satisfied, he tucks it back into the bag as he looks over at Tarantula and nods. The new club president hands a similar black bag to Cosmo, who unzips it and inspects the contents. Instead of bricks of weed, it’s bricks of cash.
“Looks good,” Cosmo says, then turns to Milo. “Get ’em loaded up.”
“You got it, boss.”
Milo and the two Warriors in their follow van start the process of unloading the bricks of weed from our van, then reloading it into theirs. Given that there are a couple of hundred pounds that need to be moved, it’s going to take a minute, so the four of us walk away a bit so we can talk without being overheard. And I gather by the pinched expressions on both Tarantula’s and Bala’s faces, there’s something heavy weighing on their minds. And I’ve got a good idea what it is.
“We ain’t workin’ with Zavala because we want to,” Tarantula says. “We ain’t got a choice in it. We say no, he sends his men, and right now, while we’re in transition, we ain’t got the numbers to fight him off. We take him head up while we’re… reorganizin’… he wipes us out.”
“I get it, man. I get it,” Cosmo says. “And I ain’t judgin’ you.”
Tarantula nods and looks a little relieved to me. I can see that he’s frustrated and that he’d expected the transfer of power to be a bit smoother than it’s apparently been. But I do know that he and Bala are both on the same page about wanting to get out from under the cartel. They don’t brook with the human trafficking Zavala’s engaged in. They want nothing to do with it. That much I can absolutely trust about them.
“But that don’t mean we don’t want to find a way out from under thisputo,” he growls. “I think we’re in a position to help each other,ese.”
“What do you have in mind?” Cosmo asks.
Tarantula and Bala exchange a look, and I see their faces tighten. It looks to me like they know whatever they’re going to say is something we’re probably not going to like.
“Look, we know you guys and Zavala are going head up,” Bala starts. “We know shit’s about to get real heavy between you guys.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s not much of a secret,” Cosmo says.
“Not when they try to take out your prez, man,” Tarantula says. “Big move like that, especially when they fuck it up and don’t seal that deal… usually means a war is comin’.”
“Since we’re still playin’ ball with Zavala, we can feed you intel. Tell you what he’s plannin’, what he’s doin’. We can put you in a position to take this fucker out,” Bala states.
“You’re puttin’ yourselves at risk,” I say. “If Zavala figures out you guys are feeding us information, he wipes you out anyway. That’s a lot of weight to possibly bring down on yourself.”
Bala shrugs. “Then don’t fuck it up, homes.”
“Like they say, you shoot for the king, you best not miss,” Tarantula adds.
