The council room was a surprisingly small room for the number of people it fit. The walls, repainted a dark green a few years ago, were filled with pictures of former Angel presidents and lost members, newspaper clippings, bookshelves that held more random décor elements than actual books, and plaques whose purpose Musa didn't quite understand. In the center of the room sat a heavy walnut table with, give or take, a dozen and half chairs around it. A topographical map of the city, commissioned by her father's predecessor, sat on top of the table, leaving just enough space for papers to go around the table or for a cup of coffee in front of each person – or in Otto's case, his gun.
Musa was the second to get there that day, after Ardus much to her chagrin. Turning around and coming back a few minutes later wasn't a possibility no matter how enticing it sounded. Ardus, nicknamed Hardass for a reason, was the most vocal about his opposition of her. The 53-year-old man had to be the most regressive, angry man she'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. Musa wouldn't be surprised to find out that Ardus viewed women as nothing more than sex toys; a pussy and a mouth to stick his undoubtedly shriveled, tiny dick in. Of course, knowing that about him would require talking to him without being forced to, and that wasn't ever likely to happen.
"Afternoon" he grumbled before returning his attention to the book Musa realised without much surprise at all was a porn magazine. Didn't he know the internet was a thing?
Musa took her seat, nodding her head towards the old man even though he wasn't paying her attention anymore. She leaned back and waited for the meeting to start as the other members strolled in one by one. Her father was the last to arrive, though it was likely that he had been at the clubhouse all day and was waiting for Andy – his Vice President – to come get him once everyone else was there.
The meeting that day didn't keep her attention all that much. They spent close to an hour discussing the details of the lab they were setting up in the countryside – deep in the countryside. Musa wasn't privy to that project, having been assigned to overlook some of the stores they kept as fronts. A project that, in her opinion, was basically just busy work. The other people that ran the stores were the members that were either too old or sick to be of any real use or that had been severely injured. They didn't even really have customers – drug customers, that was. Her pet project, Vinyl Heaven, sold a lot of records. Sometimes people would come in asking about a drug. The ones that used a codeword that they could only have gotten from an already existent client would have their names taken. The others would be sent away. From there, Angels would track down the potential clients – all of them. The ones that had no connections to cops or federal agencies would have one of the dealers 'find' them to talk in person. Most of the drug distribution they did in store was to the dealers so they wouldn't have to keep product in their homes. The only reason she was at the meetings when a lot of members weren't was that she had been selected by the other store runners to represent them. They would meet every week or two as needed and she would take their comments and requests back to the council members, who met at least once a week, if not more.
The house they were working on was of no interest to her, so she let her mind wander for a bit. To darkened unnatural violet eyes, secret rendezvous, callused hands roaming her body and the thrill that she got every time she left to meet him. It was stupid – completely fucking stupid – she knew that, but she needed it; the thrill, the release helped with the frustrations and boredom she felt where she was. They'd met five more times since the second meet up; every Monday and once two Wednesdays ago when they'd run into each other at the bar again.
Further proving what a terrible decision she'd made was the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about him. The sex was great, yes, but she thought she might be starting to like him as a person and that was not going to fly- she didn't even know him! He crossed her mind at the most random and often inopportune moments - when she was lying in bed at night being the most common, but that was to be expected. But then he also crossed her mind at work and at dinner with her dad and now, in the middle of a meeting she'd fought so hard to be allowed into.
Musa forced her mind away from Riven and his spectacular body... and face... and dick... and how soft his hair felt in his hands and the way his hand grabbed hungrily at her skin and how he'd tease her while they fucked and that he was nice to her when they weren't even if he didn't need to be. She forced her mind back to the meeting, dull as it was in comparison. From what she could see of her father's points list, they were on the last thing and then she'd be free to leave for work.
"One last thing before we adjourn" her father announced, closing his thick leather-bound book. He sat upright in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. His face, formerly happy from the presumably easy and successful meeting, grew serious. "It's come to our attention that the Dragons may have started dealing."
HB waited a pause for the expected uproar this would cause in the room. Peace had been maintained between their two groups for so long now that the mere idea of doing something stupid enough to jeopardize it was enough to cause outrage.
"Do we know what they're dealing?" Westley, one of the younger members, asked. He leaned forward, his bleach blond locks falling into his face, which he brushed away with a grease stained hand. Westley was their chief mechanic, loving everything to do with engines. He seemed happy enough to spend his entire day in the shop, repairing the members' bikes and cars. "If it's stuff we don't fuck with, I don't see the problem."
"It is a problem" Hardass grumbled.
"If it's not our shit, they're fucking with the Sisters" Blow – whose real name was Rodney – took over. "And even those fuckwits aren't dumb enough to do that."
Hardass nodded resolutely. "Exactly. Which means it's likely our shit and we're going to have to go to war."
"Okay, calm down old man" Musa sighed. War? Really? They barely had confirmation that the Dragons were dealing their shit and the old bastard was ready to ruin years of peace. She turned away from the glaring old man towards her father. "Where did this information come from? How confident are we that it's reliable or legit?"
Her father admitted that the news had been given to one of their dealers by a client. "Musa is right, Hardass. There's no point in going on the offensive yet. We don't know if this is true or just some junkie rumour. Until we can confirm, just keep an eye out. Brandon, Blow, Jarl, make sure this message reaches every one of your guys: if they spot any Dragons running drugs, they are not to attack. Take a picture if they can and report back to you asap. You guys are to let me or Andy know right away too."
Brandon, who sat on Musa's right, nodded curtly along with Blow and Jarl.
The meeting adjourned. The men shuffled out, some spewing angrier rhetoric than others. Musa waited as Andy and her father discussed something that she didn't care enough to listen in on. She waited patiently until the dark-haired boy left, nodding to her as he walked past her.
"They wouldn't actually do something that stupid, would they?" she asked. Her father moved around the table to take the seat beside her. He leaned back, making himself comfortable as he ran his hands through thinning grey hair. He'd aged quickly since taking over the presidency. His hair, once thick and dark like hers had greyed entirely within a year or two; his face was worn and wrinkled, but his eyes still shone like they always did. Except once, many years earlier when they'd lost her mother.
"I don't know, sweetheart. I want to believe that Eirik would want to keep our fragile peace, but I don't know. I've met him twice and I get the feeling that he's an arrogant and impulsive man, so it's entirely possible he would."
"But he doesn't have uncontrolled power. He has a VP and a council too. They can't possibly agree with this."
"No, but the ones that disagree might be outvoted. Besides, we don't know them well enough to know what they think."
Musa nodded, hoping that her disappointment didn't show too much. She knew she didn't know Riven that well – or even at all – but he couldn't possibly be that fucking thick. Musa excused herself, wondering how she could get in touch with him. They'd agreed not to exchange phone numbers – best to have no trace of each other just in case – and burner phones were not worth getting for a hookup, so their only method of communication was Riven sending her flowers that one time. She had no way of knowing how to reach him, and she didn't know how to figure it out. It was Thursday now, so she had no choice but to wait the four days until she would see him again.
"So, what had you so distracted?" Brandon asked teasingly, throwing his arm around her shoulder as she exited the council room. He stood a solid foot taller than her – as did most of the members, to be fair – and had an annoying habit of ruffling her hair. She loved him like a brother, though. Of the kids that had grown up in this world, he was her second favourite behind Aisha.
Musa looked up at the brunet curiously. How had he known her mind had been elsewhere, she wondered. Brandon's dark eyes crinkled as he laughed loudly. His smile was bright and contagious, and she could see why women – and men – flocked to him. She could never see him as more than a pain in the ass, but she understood it. Brandon had that way about him that made everyone feel at ease. Musa genuinely believed that, had he been old enough when a new VP was chosen, he would have had a good chance of being voted in.
"You had the same look Stella gets when she daydreams" he explained.
She jerked her shoulder to knock his arm off, as she walked away with a dismissive wave. It didn't matter if he knew she'd been in her own world during the meeting. When it came time to vote on her membership, he had been one of her most adamant supporters, and he still regularly defended her when the others had something to say about it; he wouldn't rat her out for being mentally vacant for one meeting.
"Speaking of Stella, though," he said, running after her as she left the clubhouse. Musa turned back to him curiously as she went to push the door open. He caught up to her, pulling her out of the path and into one of the nearby rooms. "I need your help."
Musa smiled knowingly. Stella had spent the last three months insisting that this was coming; that Brandon would be proposing. Aisha and Tecna had insisted that Stella wasn't psychic and having theoretically discussed their future wedding was not a sure sign that Brandon would propose, but Musa knew better. Brandon had never been the one to talk about maybes; he decided what he wanted and went for it. Still, she played along with the other girls and told Stella to stop getting so ahead of herself.
When Musa finally got to the store, her mind was as far from Riven as it could possibly be. She was still buzzing about Brandon finally telling her he was going to propose and debating whether to tell the other girls. Both could keep a secret – they had to to survive in this world – but she didn't know if Brandon would kill her (metaphorically, of course) for telling them.
"Musa, guess what happened today?" Aisha started the minute she walked in. Musa put her bag away and prepared for Aisha to launch into a story about some outrageous client or, equally likely, some crazed druggie demanding Aisha give her product now. Both had already happened – more than once – so it wasn't entirely unexpected.
What was unexpected, however, was the bouquet that Aisha pulled out from under the counter. This was one darker than the last, with burgundy and black flowers offset with lighter creams and greenery. It was nicer than the last bouquet, more to her tastes; she wondered if he'd picked it himself.
"It's from 'R'" Aisha announced with a gleeful smile.
"You read the card?"
"I couldn't help myself!"
"Who do you think you are, Stella?"
Aisha gave her the cutest guilty smile that Musa just couldn't stay mad at. She grabbed the card from Aisha's hand and opened it.
Want to see you. Same time tonight?
She had to reread the card four times for it to sink in properly. He wanted to see her again outside of their designated meeting time? Why? Was it just sex? Did he miss her? Did her miss having sex with her? She didn't…
"Magix to Musa." Aisha waved a hand in front of Musa's face. She looked up at her friend, pushing the hand out of the way. "You've been staring at the card for like 3 minutes. You've got it as bad as what's-his-face does, don't you?"
What was the fake name she had given her friends? Musa couldn't remember… she would have to figure –
"Ryan! Ryan has it bad for you, baby" Aisha teased, taking the card from Musa's hand and reading it again. She used the card to poke Musa's nose when she said: "and so do you."
"I don't. It's just sex." Musa took the flowers from Aisha and went to find them a vase and some water before Aisha could say anything else. She decided that when she got home, she would take a shower. And then she would find the hottest piece of lingerie she owned.
