7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Sel hung on every word Dante said during the meeting. Still, he couldn't help but notice the asshole biker that had been in the SUV with him during the trip from the airport.

Seeing him fully, besides half his face hidden behind his full, dark brown, bushy beard, Sel was drawn to the harshness in his truly light-colored green eyes.

They were shamrock green on the outer rim, getting progressively lighter and lighter until the color near the pupil was nearly white.

Never having seen eyes quite like that, Sel caught himself looking whenever he saw the guy not looking over at him, which, surprisingly, he did often.

"The bike clubs up here are helping us with security and construction. We're in talks now about them opening up clubhouses here. The Devil's Rebels and Aztecas, which are now close brother clubs, I'm told, have two clubs to negotiate with to make their move here."

Marius nodded over to the bikers in the room. "Are your presidents from Denver still expected to come up?"

Sel listened closely to the man as Indio said, in a gritty voice, "Eight is due here this week."

The one Devil's Rebel in the room, who'd gone with them to pick up Sel and Bennie, said, "Kirk's and Mal's issues have been resolved, so they'll be here soon."

"Not to worry," Dante said. "Their Denver business comes first to them. I understand them staying in Denver. They've already moved their entire lives once, from LA. If you and whoever else can deal with anything that comes up, it's fine by me."

He was a grizzled man who looked like he'd been to hell and back with a bald spot on the back of his head, but the hair he had was long and shaggy, much like the two teeth left in his mouth. "You know them, Dante. Kirk can't handle business with the club happening without his immediate input."

"I do know that."

Indio Baca looked pointedly at Sel as he asked Dante, "Dante, uh, I get he's related, but should he be here to discuss club business with you?"

Sel winced, thinking Dante would tear the man a new one, but he was as diplomatic as ever. "Indio, if he wasn't trustworthy, he wouldn't be here. He's working to become the head of my organization someday. If we're all alive by then, we'll be in business directly with him. I suggest everyone learn his name and to trust him."

Knowing that was all that was needed, Sel relaxed, but Indio glared at him for another moment before he said to Dante, "Fair enough." He finally dragged his eyes from Sel and glanced around the room. "We are here for the Carrillos, for sure, and we don't plan to leave anytime soon. Dante, his brother and…" Again, a brush of his hateful glare in Sel's direction before he went on, "This one, are our partners. The problem is, there are a couple of clubs that run Montana. As long as we're on this property, we're golden, but not all the guys are going to want to stay on this property all the time. Not all the Aztecas or Rebels are gay."

Dante nodded, then walked over to the small bar in the corner that was just a table with bottles of booze on it and plastic cups. He poured himself a scotch as he asked everyone else if they wanted anything.

"I'll get them, Dante," Bruno said, then took Dante's place when Dante stepped away with the red Solo cup in his hand.

"That's perfectly understandable," Dante said, looking into the cup while he swirled it. "I wouldn't expect them to be stuck here. What will the clubs need from me?"

"Incentives," Indio said without hesitation. "Guns, the pass on the meth distribution that I hear is pretty heavy around the state."

Growling a little, Dante told him, "You know, everyone knows I hate that shit. I refuse to come here and stir things that have already been simmering, Indio, but I won't contribute."

"That's all I'm asking. My club or the Rebels aren't into it, which is a plus for us. We don't want them to think we're moving into their territory to take over the drug trade."

"Weapons, however, are up for grabs? That doesn't seem likely."

Sel hated the thought of guns, but he couldn't deny his family had been using them, selling them, buying them, and running them for the entirety of the organization's lifetime.

Indio carefully looked to him, as if reading his mind. "The new generation doesn't much like guns. How are you planning to deal with them once you're running things?"

The first time he'd been pushed for an opinion from an associate of the family, he was at a loss for an answer. With everyone watching him for a reaction, even before he answered, Sel knew if he said the wrong thing or even looked uncomfortable, he'd never have the respect of the men in that room.

Rising from his seat, he knew the only way to deal with hard men was to be harder than they were. Unfortunately, he'd had very little reason to be hard in his life. His hardest moments were keeping his younger, more hyper siblings in line.

The good thing about that was he'd learned to think quickly. He moved to Bruno, who had just given out the last drink to Marius, held out his hand and asked, "May I use your gun, Bruno?"

As he knew he would, Bruno looked away from him, pointedly to Dante. Dante chuckled dryly, "Do it, Bruno, thank you."

After unsnapping his holster, Bruno pulled the gun from it and laid it in Sel's hand.

"Thank you, Bruno," Sel said, then his eye caught the stack of red Solo cups on the little table. He grabbed a stack and started for the front door, calling back to Indio Baca, "Come and see, Mr. Baca."

The entire room followed him outside and Sel saw the motorcycles that stood at the far end of the driveway.

The thoughts in his mind were insane, and if he made one little mistake, not only would Dante lose any respect for him, but they all would, and Indio would likely want him dead.

Go big…or go home. And Sel had no intention of going home.

He went to the motorcycle and set a line of the cups over the seat, fender and gas tank, then he walked back to the steps of the porch, the porch where all the men were standing behind the rail, and he glanced at Indio and asked, "That's your bike, right?"

"It is," he said, his mouth a thin slash of pissed off. Sel barely saw it through the thick facial hair, but he saw it, nonetheless.

Never in his life had he been allowed to fire a gun. He knew it was a Sig Sauer .357 with a ten-round clip, but he hoped he only needed the five bullets.

He pointed the gun at the first cup on the fender and heard Indio tell Dante, "Your nephew so much as scratches my paint, we've got issues, Dante."

Dante simply chuckled, but Sel knew if he fucked up, he'd be on a plane back to LA so fast, he wouldn't be able to so much as apologize.

Well, the thing was, he'd been playing mafia video games most of his life on every platform there was. First shooters were his specialty, and he'd also studied about every gun known to man, not only to get better at the games, and talk smack online to his playing buddies, but also for moments like this one, this day.

He looked through the sight, steadied his grip, willed his hand not to shake, and thought over the fact he knew the gun would kick a little. Pow, the gun went off and the first cup disintegrated after flying off the fender. He aimed right away again, taking out the cup on the back of the seat, then the one in the middle, then the front of the seat. Finally, he took out the trickiest one out as he had to aim over the handlebar closest to him.

Bap, it flew in the air, and he turned to the porch, lifting his chin. "Any more questions about this generation of Carrillo and how they feel about guns?"

It shocked him, but Indio smiled down on him, then mimed clapping his hands. "Okay then," he said, and the others let out their held breaths in relieved laughter. Dante waved him back inside the house, and the meeting continued.

Indio mentioned the two clubs they'd need to speak to, and the research they'd done on those clubs. "One is a group that's composed of mainly Native Americans from reservations and towns from up in this area and greater Montana, Wyoming, North Dakota. I figure they're compadres with us, native blood, you know. The other group are all white boys, like the Rebels. Eight and Nando are coming up for the meet with the Blood Nations once I get it set up, and Kirk and one of his LA brothers can go talk to the white boys."

"Who are they, the other club?" Dante asked.

Indio rubbed his hands together a little nervously. "Kinsmen."

"We've done business with them in the past. They're not under our umbrella, but they've been reasonable," Dante said to him.

"Sure, most of the chapters are. This one, they…let's say they won't like dealing with gays."

Dante groaned. "Fucking bigots. You want me to go with Dog to the negotiations?"

"You're olive skinned, Catholic, and Italian, Dante. And, you know, gay," Dog said. Dog's full nickname was Doggystyle, and he was straight as an arrow, Dante had told him. That didn't stop him from working closely with Kirk, the Denver chapter of Devil's Rebel's president. Kirk was married to a man, the secretary of the club.

"Fair. So, how do you want to handle this?"

"I think we sweeten the deal. People have a way to forget the things they hate when their wallets are nice and full."

Sel looked at Dante and asked, "May I?"

"Of course," Dante said.

Sel took a deep breath and asked, "Where is their territory? Are you really stepping on their toes here and the surrounding areas?"

"They stick to Helena, that area more. Still, it's their state. Theirs and the Blood Nations."

Sel nodded and said, "Incentives can be backing their play if another club comes in and tries to mess with them, but they need more. We aren't going to just pay them. That will end with them wanting more and more until it becomes a burden to us. We won't be backing their drug trade, of course, for a variety of reasons, not to mention it's likely they have their own cooks. That won't help us but find out what else they're into. If it is something we can supply them with at a cheaper rate than what they're paying now, that is the way we keep them on the hook."

Indio's eyes were on him, and they were dancing. Sel thought, just maybe, he'd earned a little of the man's respect.

Dante's, however, was clear. "The heir has spoken. I'll leave you all to your negotiations with the respective bike clubs. There is a family here that runs women, drugs, and guns that have nothing to do with the bikers. I've already set up a meeting with them. They're smalltime in the scheme of things, but we're in a whole new world than what we're all used to. This is the wild west, and there are a different set of rules, if indeed, there are any rules at all. Everyone be safe, watch your backs, and if you need backup of any kind, we can present a show of force that will make our presence known and, eventually, respected."

Sel added, "We need this all worked out before the resort is fully built and open. My uncle and the other investors won't place the guests in jeopardy, not from a serial killer or any rival gangs."

After Dante finished the meeting, and the men filed by the two of them on the way out, Indio stopped in front of Sel, taking Sel's hand in both of his. "I'll take your suggestions to my pres. Not saying he'll take them, but Eight might listen to you. He married a stupid young guy like you."

It took everything he had not to react to that, letting Indio know he'd gotten to him. Sel managed it, but it was hard. The thing was, he only did it because he knew underneath the challenge was a need to get to him. His smile was mocking, but not only that. His family had taught him about facial expressions. Indio Baca wanted to see Sel angry, if only to win a perceived challenge.

That challenge, Sel knew, was sexual.

When they were all gone, Dante asked Bennie to clean up the mess Sel had left with the cups as he and Sel cleaned up in the house.

"If where you're meeting isn't yours, Sel, no one is too good to clean up after themselves."

"Sure, Uncle."

Taking the used cups to the recycling can in the kitchen, Dante said, "I'm pretty proud of you. I figured you were going to listen and take mental notes, you know?"

"I've been doing that since I was a little kid, Uncle Dante. You and my dad spoke in front of me for a long time. First, it was that you thought I was too young to understand, and then it was just me being in a quiet corner and you two forgetting that I was there."

Dante lost his smile. "That…that's disturbing, Selestino. Why didn't you ever say anything? Did you hear…hear terrible things?"

"No. You didn't talk about terrible things at home. You saved that. Dad always cautioned people against it in the house. Not only could the feds easily gain access there, if they wanted to badly enough, but there were the women and kids to consider."

Relieved, Dante leaned on the counter and stared out of the kitchen window. "I want to be a father, so badly, as does Blaine. I'd do it for him, even if I didn't want children. The thing is, will I be a good father? The more I find out about how you grew up, Sel, the more I doubt myself."

Sel moved in front of his eyes, blocking the window so he'd have Dante's full attention. "You will be an amazing father, Dante. I know you have to stay in the business long enough to make sure this place gets off the ground and stays safe, but once it's established, push the business to the side and be a dad. Like my dad did. He still had a couple fingers in it, sure, but his hand was holding his family, us, my mom. Teach me so I can take over your smaller part of it until Dad retires and I take it all."

"With your siblings and cousins, perhaps. God, if Blaine thought our kids would want this life…"

Sel laughed and said, "The same thing my parents said when they knew I wanted it. Not happy about it, but resigned to it, probably the same as your mother was. I know Grandma wasn't thrilled with both of her boys being in the business. She expected my dad, but you?"

"Yes, true. She was less than happy. She didn't like that I was gay, the good Catholic she was, but she thought that for sure it meant I wouldn't join in with Antonio. He was straight, he was the oldest, it was already set for him. Me? I suppose she thought I'd go to New York and be in Broadway plays or some such thing."

"I can almost see that."

"Fuck you, you little turd. Let's get back to your other uncle. We have more meetings later."

"Can I come with you to show Binx and his partners where the resort will be? He's so excited."

"Of course. You wanted a piece of this, you have to do it all."

They headed back to the trailer where Blaine had sandwiches prepared for them when they came in the door. Blaine was bent over the tablet at the table instead of eating. "I just can't decide some of this, and Roland needs to know before tomorrow."

"Want my help, BB?"

Blaine glared at Dante. "No. Every time you help, I get more confused."

Sel knew why. "Blaine wants to make this a place so comfortable, you won't have to leave home as much."

Blaine rose until his back was board straight. "How'd you know that?"

"Uncle Blaine, it's all you've ever wanted. Dante around more. I can't figure why. He's kind of a pain in the behind."

"This kid is getting a real smart mouth," Dante teased as he pinched Sel's cheek.

"He's his uncle's nephew, for sure," Blaine said, throwing Sel a wink. "How are you at décor?"

"Don't ask me. That's where my gay stops."

"I'm sure that's not true," Blaine said as he flipped the tablet over and pushed it toward Sel. "We finally got the woods. Now it's the cabinets for the kitchen. We're matching the hall floors to it, light woods, but there are the countertops, the handles for the cabinet doors, things like that."

Sel looked it over and pointed quickly to the sleek solid line handles. "Those aren't so niche they're going to go out of style right away. And the countertops-keep them simple too. White granite with a light gray running through."

Sel slid his fingers over the screen to place his picks on the pictures of the kitchen. When he pushed it back to Blaine, he saw his sweet uncle smile. "Well, hell. Here, I was trying to over complicate it."

Dante laughed. "Gay."

"Hush, Dante! You would have complicated it."

Sel finished his food with a smile on his face.

The next meeting they went to was with Mark, Binx, Nathan, and the friends they'd brought, plus a surprise attendee, Ruben Salazar, whose house they'd had both meetings at.

Ruben greeted them at the door to his house, shaking Sel's hand. "Hey! I've heard so much about you!"

"You have?"

Ruben leaned in and whispered, "You are getting a great reputation around here. It's good to see."

Sel felt so good, he shook the guy's hand again. "Thanks!"

"Listen, can you stay after, have a beer or something?"

"I'd really like that."

"Cool. I'll take you back to Dante's, if you want, or you can use one of the cars."

"I'll send for Bennie. He can drive me."

Ruben patted his arm and then pointed into the living room. "They're all ready."

As they sat down to discuss business, Sel thought about how thrilled he was that he'd pushed the issue and came to Montana. He was making friends, learning from Dante, and he felt so much that he'd found where he was supposed to be.