Page 82 of Piston
Fuck, it feels like months since Acid asked me to look into the diner’s financials when it’s only been a few fucking weeks. So much has happened since then.
Steal’s face grows stoic with each word Acid says as he demands, “And what was his excuse?”
This is the thing about this club, or Steal, after his fuck up with Cassidy; he gets the story first instead of jumping the gun.
To this day, no one knows what really happened to Brute. Faith is the only one telling stories, while Cassidy shutdown as soon as Steal placed that gun to her head, breaking her trust and her love for him. And Brute’s dead, so he can’t fucking talk.
Though I have my suspicions, Cass won’t confirm or deny them.
“His wife has cancer.” Steal sighs at Acid’s words, slumping back in his seat, and Acid nods. “Yeah. Piston looked into it, and it’s legit. According to her medical file, she has roughly five months left to live, but there’s a new study, and he wants in on it. It’s groundbreaking, and if she gets the meds—basically using his wife as a test subject, it could save her.”
“How much?” Cannon asks, raising a dark brow.
“Thirty-thousand,” I answer him, and he whistles.
Steal shakes his head, and mumbles, “Men under fucking pressure to keep the women they love.” He looks around the room. “All in favor of Shane losing his job?”
One by one, we all put our hands up.
The reason doesn’t matter; he stole and lost our trust. He should have come to us, plain and fucking simple.
Steal nods and bangs the gavel on the table, then looks around again, and asks, “All in favor of funding his wife’s treatment?”
One by one, we all put our hands up again.
Steal smiles, bangs the gavel again, and looks at Acid. "After church, contact him and let him know of our decisions. I know he probably thinks his life is on the line.” Acid nods, and Steal looks my way. “How’s security looking?” he asks.
I answer, “Everything is in order. There have been no breaches, so the Killers are laying low to regroup. As soon as they try to breach it, I’ll know.”
He nods. “And the club funds?”
I open my folder, look at the club’s accounts, and read, "The diner is still doing well despite the setback from Shane, the bar continues to bring in people; no concerns, same with Huntsmen Angels and Huntsmen Arts.” My eyes go over the spreadsheet sheet. “Money is up by 38.5%. Even without the thirty thousand for Shane, the clubhouse fund is still stocked and ready for the in-house garage, and the brothers' pay can go up by 3%.”
I look at Steal, and he nods, while the brothers bang on the table in celebration.
“Good. We have a fun run next month, so we need to start going to local shops and trying to raise funds for the children’s hospice downtown, and the sister one in Texas. The Devils and the Untamed are also taking part,” Steal announces, and we all nod.
I speak up, “Natalie has connections in the school, so she can get the word out.”
Steal grins. “Perfect.”
His smile drops when I say, “She can also get Cass to get people from the hospital involved.…”
He mumbles, “Fucking perfect,” and we all chuckle. He gives us all the finger before asking, “How is Natalie doing, brother?”
Everyone looks my way, and I sigh, running a hand through my hair, and admit, “She’s gone to Adam’s gravesite the past two days in a row. Cam sent me their location on her first day back at school.”
Anchor speaks up, "The girl wears her heart on her sleeve. She feels guilty, but she has nothing to be guilty for. It could have been any one of us in that guard house, and we all would have left the safety of it to get to her. She’s family, brother.”
I smile. “I know, and deep down, she does as well. She’s just struggling a little, and going to his grave, talking to him, it helps….”
“Was it just me, or did she look like she had glitter in her hair this morning?” Pitbull asks, and I grin wide.
“Ah fuck, what did you do, brother?” Acid asks with a groan, and I put my hands up.
“Nothing! She came home two days ago, fed up. The kids were extra excited after summer break, and she was covered in glitter, and couldn’t get the stuff off. It turns out she knocked into the shelf, and the whole fucking tub of glitter fell on her, and I’m not talking about a small tub either, I’m talking about a paint bucket size tub,” I confess with a laugh, and the brothers all chuckle.
“Fucking woman is clumsy as shit,” Steal mumbles, and I nod in agreement.