As Abel was walking towards into the office, the rumble of a large truck outside distracted him.
A rollback slowly made its way into the lot, carrying large wooden shipping crates, and Charlene trotted out to the passenger side, a huge smile on her face as Bobby grinned.
" Hey, fukstick, watch your clearence! You wanna take the whole corner off? Getcha finger outta your ass!" Booter, a recently patched in member yelled out from his bike.
The truck lurched to a stop, as Fishnutz jerked the wheel, and a butt gusher drink fell directly into Bobbys lap.
"Sonofabitch!" he yelled, then "Get this shit for brains out behind the wheel!"
This dude cant drive for shit, Abel watched, amused, thinking how he loved learning to drive Opies rig when he was only twelve years old….or something. Glancing towards Lauren, he caught her eye. She smells fukable, he thought, and watched Booter deftly jump off his bike, open the driver side door, and yank someone out. Fish stumbled backwards, falling into the dust.
"That prospect needs a new job…" Bobby thought to himself, hoping to eliminate the useless asswipe altogether. This was the first weapons shipment, according to Rat and he assured the other members during Church, the beginning of an unbelievably lucrative payoff. No longer willing to continue with guns and other small arms, the VP was interested in something larger, more along the lines of artillery. The size of the containers required a different method of transporting, and storage, and with tensions over terrorism so volatile, the Lodge seemed an easy place to maintain security.
Skillfully positioned behind the motel next to a storage building moments later, Abel and Lauren watched the platform slowly rise , tilt , and stop.
From his vantage point, Abel noticed hydraulic fluid weep, then gush from underneath the truck
"Dude, its not gonna move…look behind the cab, on the other side!" he called out, indicating the puddle that began to spread in size.
"Sonofabitch! Hey, Fish, I thought you replaced the cylinder, what the fuck?!" Booter turned to the skinny prospect.
"Its sposed to be in next week, but it worked fine yesterday…"
Bobby eased himself down to the ground from the passenger side, looked underneath the truck, and shook his head. This was definitely the last time he wanted to see or hear this worthless dickbag. He nodded to Booter, and suddenly Fish was on the ground, blood drooling from under his eye.
"Church…first thing when we get back-now get outta my sight ya dik licker!" Booter growled, and kicked him in the groin.
"Hey, its only gonna need a seal kit…" Bobby heard someone call out. Looking in the direction of the voice, stood Lauren, and some kid that looked vaguely familiar…who the fuk was he?
Abel remembered seal kits in his trunk that were for a bucket truck in the shop back home, along with a five galleon container of fluid….and the repair he had blown off when he started this trip. Dads gonna be pissed as shit , he thought with sudden fear, then he quickly dismissed that. Pfft, fuk Dad, and fuk the shop, he shrugged inside. Fuk em all, he grinned to himself.
Bobby limped towards them. Arthritis was beginning to take its toll.
"Take that worthless piece of shit outta my sight! See if Mother Mucca needs that septic line cleaned out or something!" he called back to Booter.
"Hey Bobby!" Lauren cooed, giving him a sweet kiss and hug.
"Hey there sweet cheeks!" Abel watched the elder biker grin and gently squeeze her ass. Whose this you're babysitting?" he nodded towards him..
"OH! This is Spider-Spider, this is a great and very wise man, Bobby!"
"Hey" Abel extended his hand.
Bobby shook it. "You know a lot about these trucks?"
"Uh….well, yea-I work on shit like this all the time back home, in our garage. It looks like an easy job, and I been doin this kinda work since I cant remember…" Abel trailed off, feeling a bit embarrassed all of the sudden. He remembered when he was seven or eight, and was constantly in trouble for disassembling household things, like can openers, vacuum cleaners, a garbage disposer, and two chainsaws Jax had on the shop bench in the basement. Tara was pissed, but Jax recognized a passion , and suddenly the diagnosis of his sons dyslexia seemed unimportant.
Bobby looked at the kid with interest.
"You help us out sonny, and Ill make sure Mother Mucca sets you up with a special treat tonight"
