Page 34 of Vortex

We ride back to the clubhouse with the evidence and go directly to Pres. He sits back and listens to everything before he opens the envelope. His face betrays his anger as he looks at documents and photos showing the mayor’s involvement and even how she became the mayor.

“Seven o’clock you said? I’ll be the one to meet her.”

We take two SUVs, and there are eight of us, including Pres. We arrive at the restaurant, none of us wearing our cuts for this. We don’t want her to walk in and see that she is surrounded by bikers. That pleasure can wait until Pres has had his say.

She arrives dressed in her power suit, obviously ready to intimidate poor old Chris. The shock of seeing Pres at her table is quickly replaced by anger, and everyone in the restaurant notices the shift. She is about to turn tail and run when Hellion gently takes her arm and guides her to her seat at the table. Pulling out her chair, he makes a great show of getting her seated, then he returns to a place near the door.

“What is the meaning of this? I don’t meet with the town's trash and lowlifes, in public or otherwise.” She spits this out in a voice filled with venom and vitriol.

The tables around them go quiet to hear more of her attack, but Pres places a photo on the table in front of her stating, “This photo and many more like it are poised ready for distribution to local, state and national media.” Once she has seen the photo, he takes it from the table and passes it to the next table, who gasp, look at the mayor and then pass it to the next table. “You may wish to hear me out before you start shooting your mouth off anymore, making yourself look even more foolish. Chris couldn’t make it tonight because he’s recovering from a beating that the man in the photo ordered his associates to perform. He has been in the hospital for two days, but you already know all this.”

“I know of no such thing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her attempt to hiss these words out quietly backfires spectacularly, and half the restaurant hears her.

“I didn’t come here to waste my time, Martha. If this is how you want to play it, I’m good with that. You’ll be out of office by lunchtime tomorrow and in jail by close of business. Enjoy your meal. It’s been paid for by one of your campaign contributions from Cottonwood Glades.” He signals to me, and I take back the photo from where it has circulated halfway around the restaurant.

As he stands up, her mouth flaps open and closed several times before she hisses, “Wait. What do you want?”

Pres sits back down and calmly takes a sip of wine from his glass. “I think we should enjoy a quiet meal together, let the excitement die down, and then go somewhere neutral to discuss what we both want.”

“I’ll get the owner to close early. I have no intention of leaving here with you or any of your gang.” She looks around but clearly doesn’t recognize many of us.

“We’re a club, not a gang. Gangs are what you have become associated with. They do bad things and hurt good people. We, however, do good things and hurt bad people. Bad people like Brandon Smiles. Bad people like you, Martha, who take people's homes, businesses, and land for financial and political gain. It ends tonight. No one else suffers because of your greed and ego.” Pres is enjoying himself by making her squirm.

“You have no proof of any of this. You have no evidence whatsoever to back up these outrageous claims.” She takes a swallow of her wine.

“Evidence like this you mean?” Pres slips a sheet from the envelope still on the table by his elbow and slides it across to her.

“That, Martha, is evidence that you were complicit in taking a man’s home for political gain. It also shows a financial gain for taking a man’s land using your position as mayor. There is also evidence that a man had a fatal ‘accident’ while refusing three undervalued offers for his business.”

“I had nothing to do with anyone’s death. That was all down to…”

“Go on, Martha, say it. It was all down to who? You are complicit in all this and will be going to prison for a very long time if all this evidence comes out.”

“When the restaurant is empty, we’ll discuss it in more detail.” She calls the server owner who scurries off to fetch the owner. The way this happens shows that this is not the first time she has abused her position, and my mind rolls back to the night Allegra was fired. I wasn’t present, but she described it in very similar circumstances to these.

It only takes an hour for the restaurant to close for the rest of the night. Pres and the mayor talk for more than an hour. When she is ready to leave, he hands her the envelope and ensures that she knows that it is only so that she knows some of what he has. She has only twenty-four hours to present Pres with the evidence to shut down Cottonwood Glades, or her part in all this will be open to public and legal scrutiny. This should be an interesting forty-eight hours, if nothing else.

Chapter 20

*~* Silas *~*

Allegra was out of the ranch house by sunup. We’d had breakfast together, and she wanted to take one of the horses for a ride to check on some idea she’d had for one of the pastures. She was going to try growing something different in that area, apparently. She’s been reading up on the best crops and how to mix feed for better results. I know it’s something you can do but never had the time or inclination to look into it properly.

I’m enjoying my second cup of coffee before Marisela shows any sign of life. She walks, well slouches, into the kitchen in a pair of what look like small-size men's boxers and a short, tight T-shirt. There is little left to the imagination.

“You need to wear more clothes around the house. You know there are men present at times.” I can’t help the disapproval in my voice.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t complain.” She takes a cup of black coffee from the pot on the stove, too lazy to make herself a latte.

“It is my home and I am complaining. I don’t want men ogling my daughter in her underwear, no matter where she’s been or who she’s been with, or how many.” My remarks sting, I see that, but she brushes them off.

“You have no idea about the men in my life, or my life at all for that matter. You haven’t been in it enough to judge me.”

“Whose fault is that, Marisela? You turned into a spoiled brat who wanted everything without having to earn it. You chose to run off with that asshole of a husband, and you ran more than once. Anytime you had to work for a living you ran. You are not here for me this time, either. You have never been here for anyone but yourself. You’re already slacking off with your chores. It won’t be long before you either run again, or you are pushed.” I shouldn’t have said that, but I am hurt and angry, the way it always is whenever we are near each other for any length of time.

“I am not here to run this time. I am here to stay until the bitter end. Who will try to push me away? You? I don’t think so. That Italian whore Vortex has taken up with? She talks too much.” Finishing her drink, she leaves the cup in the sink and walks towards the living room. Looking over her shoulder at me, she spits, “I’m going back to bed. I’ve decided to have today off.”

As she turns back, her head snaps to the side, and a loud slap echoes through the room.