Devil's Marker (Sons of Sanctuary MC, Austin, Texas Book 4) Page 12

  “You rich, surfer dude?” Catcher asked on the way out.

  Win laughed. “Surfer dude?”

  “Didn’t you come from southern California? Land of Beach Boys, beach babes, peroxide, and stoners?”

  Win smiled, shaking his head. “I’m from Beaumont. Land of refineries, petrochemical plants, and dense concentrations of fast food clusters.”

  “Hard to make fun of that.”

  “So don’t.”

  “Okay. But aside from that, you rich?”

  “I’ve saved my money.”

  Catcher barked out a laugh. “Not today.”

  “No.” Win smiled. “Not today,” he agreed amiably.

  They drove to Men’s Warehouse where Win bought a tan linen sport coat for himself. It looked great over his tee and jeans with boots. Not hipster. Not L.A. ridiculous. More modern Texas money. When worn open, it was dressy and casual at the same time. The thing that really sold the look was a stomach kept flat by a still-youthful metabolism and regular trips to the clubhouse gym.

  “We don’t have a lot of time to personalize your killer look. So we’re gonna have to get some help,” Win told Catcher.

  When the saleswoman came back, he handed her the jacket and said, “I’ll take this. Now we need a consultation for my friend. I’m takin’ him to a club Friday. Show me what the young ladies would like to see on him.”

  She looked at Catcher and smiled knowingly, believing that the end game was getting laid. “Well, you’re good-looking enough. You’ve got kind of a Jon Bon Jovi thing going on.”

  Catcher cocked his head. “Who’s that?”

  She chuckled softly. “Well, that firmly established my age. That means you’re making my job easy.”

  After some struggle, including raised voices and one walk out, Win and the saleswoman managed to wrestle Catcher into a new style skinny leg dark blue suit, a crisp white extra pointed collar shirt left open at the neck, and a pair of polished rust-colored ankle boots.

  “You sure?” Catcher said, looking at himself with extreme reservation in the three-way mirror. “I think I look like a douche.”

  The saleswoman giggled.

  “What do you think?” Win asked her.

  She looked at Catcher like she was in love. “Gorgeous.” Something about her tone of voice told both men that she wasn’t just acting for the sake of a sale.

  “See?” Win said to Catcher. To the saleswoman he said, “Can you get the alterations done by Friday morning? Scratch that. We have to have it then and won’t buy this stuff otherwise.”

  “We can do a rush with an extra fee for the service.”

  “Done. Now where can I take him to get a hair makeover?”

  Catcher immediately began shaking his head vigorously. “No. No. No. No. No.”

  Win looked at the sales clerk. “Ignore that.”

  “Don’t take him to a barber shop unless you want him to end up looking like a Mormon.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God. Please tell me you’re not Mormon. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Win and Catcher both gave her amused looks. “Seriously? You think there’s a chance we’re Mormon?”

  She took a deep breath. “You should go to a unisex salon where people actually know something about hair.” Win nodded. “Give us a name.”

  “Now.”

  “Well, yes. If you don’t mind,” said Win.

  She laughed. “No. That’s the name of the salon. Now. Over on Washington.”

  Win smiled. “You have been a very big help.”

  She grinned. “Thank you. Kind of wish I could see the heads turn when he shows up Friday.” She looked at Catcher, who was holding a box of shoes and two shirts, one white, one pearl gray, on hangers in a plastic bag slung over his shoulder. “Got a feeling you’re going to be a regular.”

  He shook his head and looked away. “Not in this lifetime.”

  When they got in the car, Win pulled up directions to Now. “Head down to 17th and go west.”

  “You know, for the first time, I’m wonderin’ how bad I want to be a biker. There was one time I had to go for two days without sleep. I’ve cleaned up puke. I’ve earned no money. I’ve cleaned bikes by hand. I’ve had no time to, um, date. And I’ve been everybody’s gofer. But nothin’ compares to this.”

  “Takin’ one for the team.”

  “Worst part is, say it works out like that lady said and I actually end up with nice clean healthy girls interested in a ride. I’m leavin’ alone ‘cause I’m workin’ for the club.” When Win didn’t answer, Catcher said, “Right?”

  “I’m thinkin’ it depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “If we take two cars, have a nice quiet uneventful evenin’ and there’s nothin’ to report at closin’ time, I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t use your new look to give the little ladies a thrill.”

  Catcher glanced over to see if Win was serious. “You know I’m prospectin’. Right? I don’t have the luxury of decidin’ what to do with my time.”

  “Let’s go to the beauty parlor and then we’ll talk to Boss.”

  “Beauty parlor! I ain’t goin’ to no beauty parlor!”

  Win laughed. “Settle down. I just said that to get a rise out of you. Jesus. Are you feelin’ conflicted about your masculinity?”

  Catcher gaped before slamming on the brakes and pulling off the road. “I’ll take you right here, right now, fucker. Get out of the car.”

  Win looked at Catcher calmly. “You’re challenging a full patch member, Prospect?”

  Catcher looked uncertain. “Uh. No. Of course not. I just…. Ah. Was kidding?”

  “That’s what I thought. So was I. Kidding, I mean.”

  “Oh.” Catcher faced forward and pulled back onto 17th.

  Win had put three hundred dollar bills on the counter downstairs before the receptionist managed to find somebody who could take a ‘walk in’.

  “You are not makin’ me look like fuck all Justin Bieber!”

  “No, no, darlin’. This is not a Bieb-do. Swear to God!” Stylists rarely have to defend their occupation. They usually just schedule hair services and get paid to do it.

  “I know this is really unusual,” Win said. “But could you give us sixty seconds to talk. There’ll be a nice big tip in it for you havin’ to put up with…” He gave Catcher the kind of glare that said he’d lost patience. “This.”

  “Sure,” she said, looking anything but sure.

  She stepped out of the small room that was her business within a community of individual style businesses. Win leaned over Catcher. “You wanna be a full patch member. Then stop actin’ like a whiny little bitch. Grow up. Take one for the team. And there might be rewards in it for you that you haven’t even imagined.”

  “Rewards?” That word seemed to get his attention.

  “That you haven’t imagined.”

  “You’re not talkin’ lollipops. Right?”

  “Christ. You are unbelievable.” Win counted to five. “Now the nice woman is gonna come back in here and make you look like a heartthrob.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a guy that every woman wants.”

  “There’s no such thing.” He got a funny look on his face. “Is there?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Well, what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Why don’t we ask her what she thinks about your hair?”

  “If that’s what it’ll take to get you to act your age.”

  “Fine.”

  Catcher grinned at the mirror like a fool. He’d been given what the stylist called an undercut with long texture, meaning the sides were almost shaved but the top of his dark blonde hair fell over his ears in a dangerous and rebellious way. The cool thing about it, Catcher thought, was that it would look equally good in a cut with his tats showing or in the custom faggot suit Garrett picked out. It also made him look older somehow.

 
; He turned from side to side, used the hand mirror to check out the rearview action, then jumped up and gave the surprised stylist a hug and big kiss on the cheek. “You’re gonna get me laid Friday, scissors girl.”

  Win turned to the stylist. “Yeah. You did good.”

  Catcher spun around and flopped into the observation chair. “Now what about him?”

  Win thought the gleam in the prospect’s eye looked a little mean. He turned to the stylist. “I’m too old for that.” He pointed to Catcher. “But I guess I could use a trim.”

  If Win had been wearing a button down, his hair would have reached the bottom of the collar.

  “Sit yourself down,” she said.

  As soon as his bum hit the seat she was running her hands through his hair, almost lovingly. He’d never had a barber do that.

  “You know,” she began, “you have beautiful hair. People pay a lot of money and go to a lot of trouble to get sun highlights like the ones you’ve got naturally.” From her place behind the chair she looked at him in the mirror. “They are natural?”

  He smiled. “Yes. I spend a lot of time in the sun.”

  “Long and short of it,” she giggled. “That’s a hair cutting joke. Your hair is too wonderful to cut. So here’s what I’m gonna recommend.

  “When you’re tryin’ to get cleaned up, steppin’ out like your friend, I’m gonna suggest you just do a retro thing. Pull it back into a short ponytail.” She looked in a drawer and pulled out a leather tie. She brushed his hair back and pulled it into the tie.

  He wouldn’t have imagined such a simple thing could make such a difference in his look. She might be onto something. It could work.

  “There’s a certain kind of woman who loves the sexy look of longer hair. What do you think?” Win nodded. “Let me wash it, condition it, and trim a quarter inch off the ends.”

  “That really necessary?”

  Catcher spoke up. “Yeah. It’s really necessary. Stop bein’ a whiny little bitch and…” Catcher’s eyes widened slightly. That was twice he’d forgotten he was a prospect talking to a member. “Sorry.” He looked away.

  Win went through the treatment and stepped out into the bright sunlight feeling like he was ready to play the part of an investor who’d spent his whole adult life in an office and never learned to ride.

  CHAPTER Eleven

  Night Flight

  Thursday afternoon Win knocked on the jamb of Boss’s door, which was open.

  The prez looked up and said, “Come on in here, recruit.” Boss had a way of sounding as boisterous and enthusiastic as a top notch salesman, but Win had learned that gregarious personality hid a brilliant mind that worked nonstop. “You got a sissy knock. You know that?”

  Win smiled. “Tryin’ to be respectful.”

  Boss laughed. “I thought maybe you were hopin’ to tiptoe by that door and not wake it up. Since it got a taste of your blood and all.”

  Win kept his good-natured smile in place. He didn’t mind being ribbed. Good-natured banter meant he’d been accepted. And was trusted.

  “What you need?” Boss asked as he pointed at the chair in front of him.

  “Well, I’m wonderin’ about the procedure for makin’ suggestions?”

  Boss sat back and cocked his head. “Guess that depends on the suggestion.”

  “You mind if I close the door?”

  Boss looked like he’d shifted into serious. “Go ahead.”

  Win quickly closed the door, glancing at the back side to see if there was any indication that he’d been banged in the face. There wasn’t. That was disappointing.

  After returning to his seat, he said, “It’s about the prospect, Catcher.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s goin’ with me tomorrow night.”

  “I know that.”

  “I know I’m new and all, but if it’s not out of line for me to put in a good word for him… We don’t know what’s gonna happen. Maybe nothin’. Maybe somethin’. It’s a risk I’m willin’ to take as a full patch member.”

  He let that hang in the air, knowing that Boss would fill in the rest of the paragraph. Win’s heart had sped up a little. He wasn’t there to be involved in Marauder politics, like he was an actual member. He was there for a month to do a job and get the hell out.

  Boss’s smile started slowly and grew into a full-on grin. “I think I know where you’re headed with this, recruit. After you’ve been around for a while, you’re gonna find that I’m always a few steps ahead of you.”

  He reached down to his right, opened a bottom drawer, and withdrew a member patch. “Kid’s graduatin’ tomorrow at meeting. Before you go out.”

  Win nodded his approval. “That’s good. Your security is phenomenal by the way.”

  “Yeah. He deserves this.” Boss waved the patch in the air. “Probably overdue, but I’ve been distracted thinkin’ about fuckin’ S&B.” His eyes crinkled around the edges. “Heard you boys went to some trouble to get prettied up.”

  “It’s a new level of dedication.”

  Boss’s smile returned. “We appreciate your sacrifice.”

  The Marauders always ended every week with a Friday night clubhouse get together intended to be both business and pleasure. Saturday nights were reserved for debauchery, hang arounds, friends of the club and so forth. But Friday nights were family dinner. After wives, old ladies, and kids went home, members stayed for a mandatory-attendance meeting in the conference room to report on how the various business interests and/or workaday jobs fared. Boss’s philosophy was that a problem caught early is usually a small problem and easily solved.

  Catcher was told that he was invited to sit and eat fried cod and chips with the members as a ‘last supper’ kind of thing. He took some teasing about his hair, but he was able to take it with a laugh because he looked good and he knew it.

  When the members adjourned the meeting, Boss held Win back at the door. “Think since you’re the one who stepped up for the kid, you ought to be the one to bring him in. Put these in your pocket.” Boss handed him the member patch for the front of his cut and the bottom rocker for the back. “Wait five minutes then go get him. Tell him somethin’s come up that needs to be discussed.”

  Win nodded as he looked at his watch.

  “Leave that seat at the end empty, recruit.”

  At exactly five minutes, Win left to find Catcher.

  “What did I do?”

  Win felt a little bit bad about the fact that the kid sounded worried, but mild hazing was just part of what guys do in clubs. “Nothin’ comes to mind?”

  “No. Nothin’. “

  Win gave a single cut of his head to the right. “No idea.”

  When they reached the conference room, Win mimicked Boss by telling Catcher, “Sit yourself down right there.”

  Catcher sat and looked around at the faces like he could glean what had gone wrong telepathically.

  “What did Garrett say to you about why you’ve been summoned?” Boss asked.

  “He, uh, didn’t say.”

  “No?” Boss asked again.

  “No.” Catcher shook his head.

  “You mean he didn’t tell you that we brought you in here to discuss why we think you ought to be a full patch member?”

  Since Boss managed to make that sound like both an accusation and a pronouncement of guilt, and since all the members kept blank expressions frozen on their faces, it took him a minute for the words to bleed through the worry.

  The corners of his mouth twitched like he was unsure what to do. “Why I ought to be a full patch member?” he repeated.

  “That’s right,” Boss said. He looked at Win. “You do the honors, recruit.” To the room he said, “Gentlemen, the new guy is the one who spoke up for our prospect. Truth is, this is overdue. Welcome your brother.”

  Win turned Catcher to face him, grasped the edge of the prospect patch and jerked hard enough to rip it off. He pulled out the new patches and placed them on the table in fro
nt of Catcher.

  “Know how to use a needle and thread?” Win asked with a smile.

  Catcher seemed a little choked up, but managed to nod to applause and slaps on the back.

  “Normally we’d celebrate with alcoholic beverages, but these two…” He pointed at Win and Catcher, “are working tonight.”

  Win leaned into Catcher. “Ten o’clock.”

  Catcher nodded at Win among jostling congratulations.

  When the two spies walked through the bar in full club regalia at ten o’clock they drew a series of long low wolf whistles. They heard Smash say, “You’d better not try this sissy prissy pretty boy stuff around my old lady, fuckers.”

  “Guys don’t have to look good to interest your old lady, Smash,” Cue said.

  Everybody laughed.

  Boss walked over to the door. “There’s a bar that’s more our style a few blocks away. Gonna have some back up there just in case and they’re not gonna be drinkin’.”

  To Catcher, he said, “You hit Roar’s contact if anything goes awry. He’s gonna have his cell on vibrate in the pocket right next to his dick. No matter how loud it is, he’s gonna know if you need them. He sees you tried his number, he comes runnin’.” Catcher nodded. “You scared, kid?”

  “Not really. Should I be?”

  “Hey,” Win said. “I almost forgot. We’re takin’ two cars. If the night is uneventful, Catcher might celebrate by gettin’ lucky.”

  Boss laughed and put his big hand on Catcher’s shoulder. “Sure, kid. Have a good time. Just remember the raincoat.”

  Catcher rolled his eyes.

  “Look at this,” Boss said to Win. “He’s been a full patch for two hours and he’s already givin’ ‘tude.”

  Boss held out his hand for Win’s cell and programmed Roar’s contact in there as well. “Unless you’re plannin’ on ‘gettin’ lucky’, come see me when you get back. Don’t matter how late. I’ll be up.”

  “Got it.” Win nodded.

  When he started to turn away, Boss grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t take chances, but don’t let those fuckers leave with any of our girls.”