“Griff will do it.” Dex’s lips quirk. “Eraser and Vapor, not so much.”
“Pussy whipped.” Ravage grins. “But I get it. Ella and Juliet are cute as hell.”
“Juliet’s like my niece, you clown,” Dex seethes. “Watch yourself.”
“I said she’s cute, not that I wanted to—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Dex warns.
Rav wisely shuts his mouth.
“All right.” Rock slaps the table. “We good?”
Everyone says yes and Rock lets us go.
Except me.
“Stop right there.” Rock stands, blocking my path.
Murphy’s halfway to the door but he stops and reverses direction.
“Not you,” Rock says.
“Nah, Prez.” Murphy crosses his arms over his chest. “I think your VP should stick around for this conversation.”
I don’t dare laugh.
“What’s with you?” Rock asks me.
“Nothing. I just fucking hate spending time there, that’s all.”
“Club. First.” Rock enunciates each word slowly. “Or did you forget that?”
It’s not even a business the club needs any more. I bite my tongue to stop myself from expressing that opinion. As I get older, I like to think I’ve learned when to share my thoughts and when to keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately, I fail at it more often than I want to admit.
“Is Crystal Ball still good for the club?” There, that’s more diplomatic.
Rock stares at me.
Shit, did I actually leave him speechless?
Murphy lets out a long, shrill whistle. “He’s got a point.”
“Does he?” Rock asks.
Murphy runs his hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
Rock turns to me. “Do we or do we not still wash the cash from selling Sparky’s crops through CB?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “We do. We also wash it through Furious.”
“On paper, we sell enough protein powder to leave a herd of elephants constipated,” Murphy confirms.
Rock stares at him for a long moment. “Thanks for the visual.”
I try again. “Once the funeral home’s set up, we can use that—”
“Marcel,” he says slowly. “We’ve never shared our investment windfall with National. How’s it going to look when Priest visits and we’re all fucking around? There aren’t enough dead bodies in Slater to account for that kind of money.”