I stood and shook El Cacto’s hand, before inviting him to return to his seat.
“El Cacto is right. The fact that our two clubs have gone from enemies to friends so quickly is a reminder of how fast things can change.”
“They can just as quickly go the other way, too, though, don’t they?” Clutch said, offhandedly to grumbles around the room.
“Clutch is right,” I said. “We shouldn’t forget how quickly Wolf went from one of us, to one of them. How he had us all convinced that he was still with us. That shit should embarrass you. I know it sure the fuck burns me up.”
I knew I was taking a risk by talking so openly with members from two other clubs in the room, but I didn’t give a shit anymore. Besides, it’s not like I was spilling any secrets. Wolf, one of our longest serving Saints, had played me and the club, and everyone in the area knew it. Char had used the chapter President’s patch as bait and Wolf bit right away. Plain and simple.
“It ain’t just you,” Hatch said. “What Wolf did was fucked up and against the code of every club. That shit can’t stand, no matter what ends up going down with the Spiders.”
I gave Hatch a nod of gratitude and he responded with a chin lift. I was a bit shocked for such a vocal display of support given how we’d left things at the club dinner. We were now days away from Christmas and I’m not sure we’d seen each other at all since then.
“I appreciate the support of you and your club. Congratulations, also on your promotion, President Hatch.”
The room broke into a round of applause and Hatch responded by flipping everyone off.
This time around, our joint club meeting was held at the Sanctuary and not only had officers from the Dogs and Los Psychos, but also the Primal Howlers out of Monument, Colorado. I didn’t know them well, but the Dogs vouched for them, and they’d had our backs when we stormed the Spiders’ lair. Until now, the Primal Howlers had been men of their word, and would soon prove to be valuable as we geared up for impending doom.
“In addition, the Burning Saints, Los Psychos, and the Dogs of Fire agree to a three-way split in Hog Heaven. The Saints agree to build, staff and manage the facility, while the Dogs will provide security, with Los Psychos handling the product end of the business, with the help of Dr. Warthog, of course.”
Warthog sat grinning ear to ear like a kid about to rip into his Christmas presents. Silent nods all around signaled an accord to the motion, so I made it so.
“Okay, then. If there are no objections, that should conclude the deal and this meeting.” I announced bringing the gavel down on the table.
Warthog began passing out celebratory pre-rolled joints to everybody in the room to mark the occasion. They were as fat as cigars and I half expected them to contain a band that read “It’s a Boy!” The opening of Hog Heaven had been a goal of his since the recreational use of marijuana first became legal in Oregon. For a man of his age and life-long relationship with the sweet sticky icky, opening his own pot shop was like Charlie getting the keys to the chocolate factory. I don’t think anyone in the club had ever seen Warthog happier and I was glad to see Cutter’s oldest friend smiling again. This was a good business move for all of us, and yet another way to keep peace, but more than anything I wanted Warthog to have something for himself as he approached his third act.
I noticed Hatch making a beeline for the exit the second the meeting had adjourned, and I raced out, meeting up with him in the hallway, away from the others. I approached Hatch and offered my hand which he reluctantly shook, without smiling.
“I appreciate you saying what you did during the meeting,” I said.
“It was nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said, barely making eye contact.
“Well, thanks anyway.”
“I meant what I said. Wolf is a bad dog and he needs to be put down.”
“How ’bout me, Hatch? Am I a bad dog or a good dog?”
Hatch finally smiled. “What I think of you is really important to you, isn’t it?”
“The only things that are important to me are this club and your sister,” I replied.
“If I didn’t believe that already, I wouldn’t even be standing here.”
“Then what the fuck is your problem with me?”
Hatch sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, pausing briefly before asking, “When you were in school, did you ever have one of those class pets?”
“Like a mascot?”
“No, I’m talking about elementary school. Some teachers would bring in a bunny or a guinea pig to live in the classroom and each of the classmates would take a turn bringing it home over the weekend.”
“I was a ward of the state that went to Catholic school. When the nuns weren’t busy smacking the shit out of me, occasionally I saw a bird outside a window.”
“Anyway, when I was in sixth grade, Mrs. Bonnet promised us something special if every student in our classroom passed the upcoming math test. I fuckin’ hate math, but I remember wanting that surprise so bad it burned. I studied every night from Monday through Thursday and come Friday, I had that shit down.”
It was at this time I became acutely aware that this was already by far the longest Hatch had ever spoken to me, outside of discussing club business. I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but it was interesting, nonetheless.
Hatch continued, “Every test had been marked with a passing grade, including my C+,
