Page 8 of Property of Yak
The wall behind me vibrates from the bass as music blasts throughout the club on the other side. I can’t help but smirk as my brother takes a seat behind the club manager’s desk, making the guy sit in a different chair.
“How are things going?” Yooper asks as I discreetly scan the room.
“Business is good,” the club manager, I think named Albert, says.
“Yeah? The sales don’t necessarily reflect that,” Yooper points out.
Albert waves his hand through the air. “You know it dies down right after Christmas. Everyone is too poor to buy drinks.”
It’s a lie. One I know Yooper sees. This is yet another issue Yooper is having. Some of the club’s businesses are being mismanaged. I wish there was one person that was common in all of this, but the club works as a team, meaning any one of them could be involved. Or maybe none of them are, and this dumbass is skimming himself. I don’t believe in coincidences, though, and three of the club’s businesses skimming money is far-fetched.
No, this is sabotage.
“Yet our place over off of Seventh is excelling, and it’s in a sketchier neighborhood. If the poor are managing to spend their money, why can’t you get some trust fund college kids to spend theirs here?” Yooper points out.
“That’s not fair. Those people have nothing else to do but drink,” Albert protests.
I tune out and watch the brothers in the room. All of them seem to be fully present, which sets off major red flags. Frustration rolls through me. Yooper told me that shit was wrong inside his club, but I didn’t think it would take this long to pinpoint who it is.
It is driving me insane.
I will, though. It’s just going to take time. Maybe I should slip out. Check out the club and see if I can find anything out there. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to think that brothers could be holding their own meetings out there when they know Yooper is tied up. Now I just need to find a way to slip out of the room to check it out.
I tune back in and catch something about renovations.
“Come on, Yooper. I need you to approve the renovations. You know it’s a good call,” the club manager pleads with my brother.
“You and I both know that your sales are too inconsistent for me to agree to it,” Yooper tells him.
One of the brothers, Timbit, fidgets in his spot.
“Come on, Yooper. The club is packed tonight, and the upgrades will bring people in,” the club owner says.
“Cleaning the place up some would probably help more,” Keener, the club’s enforcer, says.
Yooper turns to Hoser, the treasurer. “What do you think?”
As Hoser starts to speak, I catch my brother’s eye and point to the door. He subtly nods, and I slip out of the office. The sound of music slaps me in the face, making me wince.
Fuck it. I’ll take a minute by myself before I circle the room. I make my way to the back door and step into the cold night air and take a deep breath.
Jesus fuck. I’ve been a part of club life for a long time, but when I was with Mountain River in Colorado, I never had to sit in on shit like this. I enjoyed my grunt work. It was simple. Yooper needs me, though, to stick close to try and find his traitor. If I don’t, who knows what will happen. Not just to him but to the club he’s built.
The idea makes me sick. I just got him back, and the idea of something happening to him now…is unacceptable.
I pull a pack of smokes from my pocket and shake one into my hand. Staring at it, I twirl it between my fingers.
I fucking hate these things.
Memories of my dad smoking flash through my mind, but I shut that shit down quick. It’s a vice I can’t seem to quit, though. Not without replacing it with another. It helps that many of the brothers smoke and often talk freely as they do. It’s another thing to bond me to them. So it’s a vice I will keep for a while.
A scuffling gets my attention. I shove the pack back into my pocket and quietly step forward.
“Hold her, man,” someone grunts.
“I’m trying. She’s fucking feisty, though,” the other guy mutters.
Ice fills my veins. Quietly, I make my way to them, and when I round the corner, anger rushes through me.
