Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(96)
But Bart was excited. “Here’s why you care about these. The studio is sending the actors here so they can get to know us. They’ll be here at least a week, maybe longer. They’re supposed to shadow us— especially Isaac, Show, Lilli, and, well, me. But we’ll all have shadows for a least a couple of days.
“Fuck this shit.” C.J. shoved his chair back and stood. “I’m done.”
“Sit down, Ceej. Now.” Isaac’s voice was deadly low. The room got quiet and still. C.J. stood where he was and stared at Isaac.
“This is bullshit, brother,” the older man spat. Isaac just stared. The standoff lasted for several long, chilling seconds before C.J. yanked his chair around and sat back down.
Isaac relaxed slightly and looked around the table. “We voted the movie deal. We’ve voted every step of the way. This is the will of the club. You will have a shadow, and you will cooperate. Keep your eye on the big picture, brothers. There’s a reason we’re doing this.”
“Selling out.” Christ, C.J. was spoiling for a fight. Show could feel Isaac’s frustration tipping over to rage, and he leaned forward.
But Isaac managed to keep his cool. “Okay. Any other business?” There was none. Isaac struck the gavel, and the Horde pushed away from the table.
“Ceej, Show, Len. Hang around.” Show and Len had known to expect this, even before C.J.’s outburst, but Ceej was surprised. He froze halfway out of his chair, and it took a moment for him to decide to sit back down.
When it was just the four of them, Isaac said to C.J., “I want to put you on the new bar, because you’ve got the best handle on our books.” The club had bought a shuttered restaurant and were working on turning it into a new bar for the town, a place the tourists and overnighters could go for a quiet drink, keeping them clear of Tuck’s. Isaac had opened today’s meeting with an update on that project, which was stalling over permit trouble. “But I need somebody who can work with the state, deal with the building permits, and then the operating permits, and I need somebody who will take Shannon’s list of candidates to manage the place and get serious about hiring a manager. But I need somebody who’s working for the club. Is that you, Ceej?
Can you follow the will of the club?”
C.J. looked fit to spit. “Sick of you questioning my loyalty, boy.”
Show saw Isaac’s fists clench at the word “boy,” and tried to will him not to rise to the bait. C.J. was a lot of talk. He was old, past seventy, and didn’t have too many years left on a bike, Show thought. He relied on bluster to reclaim the badass he’d once been.
“You stop threatening to walk out of the Keep in session, and I’ll feel better about your loyalty. You tell me now that you’re in, even when the vote goes against you, and I’ll believe you. You can’t make me that promise, then you need to put your patch on the table.”
“I’m in. This club is all I got, and you know it. Give me the damn list.”
Isaac nodded, apparently satisfied. “Thank you, brother. Bart will get you the list.” He relaxed back in his chair and grinned wickedly at Show. “Alright then. We have a groom to inebriate, make sure he’s good and hung over for tomorrow. Let’s get to it.”
oOo
They tried to get him drunk, but it wasn’t so easy to do. Show, who’d tried hard to stay drunk for about a year, knew very well how high his tolerance was. And he had no intention of being hung over for his wedding. So he drank carefully and waited out his brothers. Eventually, everybody but Isaac and Show was shitfaced and neck deep in a girl or two—maybe three, in Len’s case. It was hard to tell how many bodies were in that tangle on the couch.
Shannon was staying at the B&B for the night. She wanted an unassuming wedding, but she did want to make an entrance, and she wanted him to see her for the first time tomorrow when he was waiting for her with Reverend Mortensen. He had no idea what she would be wearing, but he was sure she would be beautiful.
He was staying at the clubhouse—because of the booze, and because he didn’t want to be in the house without her.
A crash of thunder rocked the building a little. Shit—was it raining? He got up from the bar and went to the front door. Yeah—it was coming down in angry, opaque sheets. There’d been nothing in the forecast.
Fuck. He pulled his cell out and texted Shannon. It was too late to call; he didn’t want to wake her if she was sleeping.
Raining hard. Sorry, hon. Creek will flood. They were supposed to stand at the creek for the ceremony.
About a minute later, she replied. It’s okay. We’ll do it in the gazebo.
As he was reading that, another came through.
First time I ever saw you.
He wasn’t sure what that meant. He started to call her, and got another text.
I’ll marry you in the kitchen if I have to. But please don’t puke at our wedding.
He laughed and replied. Cold sober. Give or take.
Her reply: :) Love you. Miss you. See you tomorrow.
She was alone tonight, which is what she’d wanted. Lilli, Beth, Connie, and some other town women had taken her to Springfield for lunch, but she wasn’t interested in more than that. No bachelorette party, no wedding shower. Show felt lonely for her, but he hadn’t pushed the point. She’d said it was what she wanted, and he believed her.