The club parking lot was packed. Gideon found an empty spot as far from the door as he could because that was the spots open and got out, grabbing the bags of chips and soda Brand had ordered him to get. He shut the door and walked across the parking lot towards the door. He’d managed to sit down for a bit and let the knee rest. He wasn’t limping anymore, and he’d be fine as long as he got to sit for a while.
He wasn’t the only one on the way to the clubhouse. There was a row of motorcycles and there were autos, mostly family sized, too. A line of adults was behind a large black autovan apparently waiting for something, and then he saw someone pass out a large pan out the back and it made more sense. They were waiting for food dishes. Adults walked holding pans or pots and picnic baskets. Children raced across the gravel shouting at each other, and were all passed by a puppy whose black fur was growing out to gray. All the adults that Gideon could see wore the leather vests of the Club.
Gideon bit the inside of his lip. He had not expected this many autos or, in affect, this many people. His nerves ratcheted up a notch. He reached the door before a few others, and held it open.
“Thanks,” the guy behind him said and did a double take.
“You’re welcome,” Gideon said and looked down as several more wolves dashed through the door.
The guy waited until he was sure the wolves were through and followed after them. He didn’t say anything about Gideon’s lack of a vest and entered anyways, but his brow was definitely furrowed.
Gideon checked to make sure there was no one else coming immediately and let the door go.
“Gideon!” Brand said and came across the room. “Good, you’re on time.” He hugged him again, wrapped his arm about him and led him across the bar to a large room filled with tables shoved together in rows. Most of the tables were surrounded with chairs, though along the edge of the room were three or four long tables laden down with food and drink.
Otherwise, Gideon didn’t get a good chance to look at it other than to notice the walls were once again, a dark maroon. A woman with long blonde hair and fair skin appeared to be supervising the placement of food. Brand pulled him around the table until they were next to her. “I want you to meet Esme,” he said. “Esme, love.”
Esme turned around and smiled. She came over and kissed Brand gently. “Everyone is almost here.”
“This is Gideon,” Brand said. “The prospect.”
“Brand!” someone shouted from across the room.
Brand sighed and kissed Esme again. “Will you take care of him while I go and take care of whatever crisis has popped up now?”
Esme smiled. “Of course.”
Brand rubbed the top of Gideon’s head. “Esme will take care of you, that’s her job,” he said and let Gideon go and towards the guy who’d shouted at him.
Esme cocked her hip and considered Gideon. Gideon shifted on his feet and reached up, trying to rearrange his hair. He kept his eyes on his shoes. Esme tilted her head. “Well,” she said. “You certainly are handsome.”
Gideon flushed. He didn’t think so but others did. They told him often enough. He looked in the mirror and saw himself, and he was nothing special. He shifted the bag. “Brand asked me to bring soda,” he muttered, “Mrs. Esme.” He wasn’t sure what else to call her, Brand had never mentioned his last name.
“The pups will love you,” Esme said. “And Brand and I aren’t married.”
Gideon’s head jerked up. “Sorry, he um.” Brand had kissed Esme, twice, and called her love. Gideon had assumed they were husband and wife.
“Oh, Brand and I are together. We aren’t married.” Esme held out her hands. “Here. Give those to me. Now, did Brand tell you that you needed to bring dishes?”
“No,” Gideon said, voice faint. He handed the bag over to her.
Esme sighed. “Of course not. I take care of it. It slips his mind. Don’t worry. We have plenty of dishes here for those who turn up short or break something or don’t have any.” She looked down. “And chips too, yes the pups will love you.” She reached over and patted his arm. “Find a seat. I’ll bring you tableware.”
Gideon looked at the many tables. “Where?”
“Anywhere is fine. Make yourself comfortable,” she said and headed towards a door set off to the side. There were other women and a few men entering and exiting, and he could see a counter and a stove inside the room. Gideon turned away and looked over the room.
There were people everywhere. It was like the first day of Basic all over again, except he didn’t have the advantage of everybody else being complete strangers too and nametags. He stuck his hands in his pockets and edged out from around the table. Maybe he could find a corner to hide in. Sure, he’d seen them all over town. He hadn’t paid attention to how many faces there were attached to the vests, and he swore he’d seen mostly the same faces. He hadn’t counted them.
He started a mental count now.
“Gideon!” Beda’s voice interrupted his counting.
Gideon jumped. “Beda?” he asked and turned around. The old lady now wore a Club vest over her large soft looking button down shirt. Beda, his sweet new landlady, was a Heaven’s Heathen. His brain stuttered.
Beda set a large pot of beef stew on the table and wiped her hands off. “You need anything?” she asked.
“Esme’s taking care of me,” he said, and he was going to find himself a nice seat near the door.
Beda nodded shortly. “Good.”
Gideon spied an empty seat right near what he wanted and the seat next to it was empty too. “I, um—”
“If you see a seat you better stake a claim on it before someone else does.” Beda grinned at him.
He smiled back at her and worked his way to the crowd. By the time he pulled out the chair, there was an older man in what had been the other empty chair. His hairline receded and his remaining hair was white and bushy behind his ears and along the backside of his head.
Gideon paused, his hand on the back of the chair. “Is this seat taken?” he asked.
The old man looked up and adjusted his glasses. “Only if you are taking it.”
Gideon blinked rapidly. “Um.”
“Are you or aren’t you?”
Beda came around behind him, Esme me on her heels. Beda reached down and hugged the old man. “Kirby, behave.”
The old man patted her arms as best he could and smiled up at her. “Good evening, Beda.”
“Good evening, Kirby. Now don’t be giving the prospect here a hard time. He’s not used to our ways yet,” Beda scolded.
Esme rolled her eyes and set dishes down in front of Gideon. “Here you are. It’s first come, first serve after Padre says grace,” she said. “Don’t be afraid to get seconds.”
“Or else you might not get any at all,” Kirby joked.
Beda tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Kirby cackled.
Esme smiled at him. “Kirby is the oldest member of the pack,” she said.
“And I ain’t retirin’ until you shovel dirt over my grave!” Kirby stomped his foot.
“Which you’ll go in kicking and cussing.” Esme teased him, leaning down and kissing the side of his head.
Kirby beamed.
Gideon turned to Beda. “Do you need help finding a seat?”
Beda quickly hugged Gideon. “Aren’t you a dear boy? No. I see my grandson. He’ll have saved me a spot.” She smiled at him and bustled away. She stopped next to a young man with olive skin and black hair that looked to Gideon like he was Hispanic. The young man hugged her and pulled a chair out for her. Gideon decided it must be the grandson. He tilted his head. Beda seemed Irish to him. Irish grandmother, Hispanic grandson, he must be missing a generation in there.
Esme put a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “Don’t believe,” she paused and reconsidered her words, “take everything he tells you with a grain of salt.” She patted his shoulder. “I’ll be up front if you need anything.”
Gideon nodded and Esme walked away before he could thank her. He slowly sat down and looked around. He was going to have to start over his mental count. He looked at the Kirby. “Um, how old are you?”
“One hundred ninety nine and still young.” Kirby grinned. “If I’m lucky I’ll make it to two hundred and ten.”
Gideon nearly bit his tongue. Was this something he was supposed to be taking with a grain of salt? He nodded, not sure of whether or not he should believe Kirby.
Kirby narrowed his eyes at him. “I like your chest,” he said.
Gideon blinked. “What?” he said and looked down.
Kirby reached over and snatched his tags. He turned them over and peered at them behind his glasses. “Your chest,” he said. “Military?”
Gideon swallowed. “Former.”
Kirby tapped at them with his fingernail. “Huh. My pappy had stories about the military. Do they still clean you with spit and polish?”
Gideon grinned. “Last I checked they used water and soap like everyone else.”
Kirby cackled.
“But they do have this scratchy scrub brush if they feel you aren’t doing it correctly,” Gideon said without a change in expression.
Kirby let the tags go and slapped his knee.
Gideon glanced around again, and found Esme headed towards the opposite end of the room. Her blonde hair stood out, as most of the others he could see were brunettes. Gideon looked for Brand and found him sitting at a table that was set perpendicular to the rest with a bunch of other older men, their wives, or Gideon assumed they were their wives, and looking slightly out of place, a pretty young woman with dark curly red hair spilling over her shoulder. The table reminded Gideon of a dais almost. It wasn’t set any higher than the rest of the tables. Maybe what he was thinking of was a head table, like they had at weddings.
To either side of the table though were flags. One flag he recognized as the country of Colorado’s as it was green with a white stripe and gold fringe. The other flag, which was to the right as one entered the hall, was black with silver fringe on it. Gideon wondered about it, but didn’t feel quite right asking Kirby. Behind them was once again, the logo of the Heaven’s Heathens. On the wall Gideon could easily see was a large painting of a group of wolves of all colors playing in a mixed forest. Or, Gideon presumed they were playing. They weren’t running in a hunt, but laying down or in mid pounce and seemed to be watching puppies.
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Esme sat down next to Brand. “The prospect seems a little overwhelmed,” she said.
Brand fiddled with his silverware and glanced at Gideon. He seemed to be joking with Kirby. That may or may not be a good sign depending on the old man’s mood. “If he isn’t now, he will be soon.”
Esme glanced at him. “You’ve chosen a sponsor already.”
“Yep,” Brand said. It was best he did it, or he had a feeling there would be fights. Gideon had made a lot of friends unwittingly during his little trial.
And the boy was clueless, he needed someone to show him the ropes, teach him to ride a motorcycle, and in general keep an eye on him until Brand was absolutely certain that the boy would behave and follow the Bylaws and the Code. And that is exactly what a sponsor did. Every prospect was assigned a Sponsor. Gideon, despite his age, wasn’t going to be an exception.
Esme raised an eyebrow. Her lover was up to something. “Are you going to announce who?”
“His sponsor isn’t here tonight,” Brand said, his eyes on the food table where a girl with long brown hair that curled at the ends by the name of Frankie, and a young man with long black hair wearing a bowler hat, Blake, were joking with each other and filling up a pile of plates, far more in excess than the two of them could eat.
Poppy came over and kissed Blake and then grinned as he chatted at her. Poppet, their daughter whose real name Brand couldn’t ever remember, must be with her grandparents. Brand figured that Blake and Frankie were going to make sure that those working on the transport would be fed. Poppy never minded her husband looking after the others. That was Blake’s way. Brand nodded to himself, good.
Esme stared at Brand a long moment, ignoring his nod. He wasn’t going to… Her brain stalled out and she tried again. Brand wouldn’t subject the prospect to that, would he? Of course, three quarters of the pack were missing tonight, but to Brand there was one person who was important enough to be considered missing.
But she still didn’t believe he was halfway serious to give Gideon to Savannah.
She looked at Gideon, who was trying to be as small as possible, which was quite a feat for a six-foot tall man. She knew that there would be no way to talk Brand out of it if he’d made up his mind. Her lover was matchmaking and that was her job! “I’ll say it again, he sure is handsome.”
Brand grinned. He picked up the bell next to his plate and rang it. The hall quieted, though the children wiggled in their seats and there was whispering. Brand looked over at Padre.
Padre stood. “If we would all bow our heads for the blessing,” he said. He waited the crucial ten seconds for the hall to finish settling. “Our Heavenly Father,” he started. “Thank you for this food you have granted us, and the company you have given us. In your name, Amen.”
“Amen.” Most of those in the hall repeated. Then, they shoved chairs back, picked up plates, and headed for the buffet table, the noise picking right up where it left off.
Brand looked out over his people. Kirby had gotten up with Gideon’s help and then promptly began swinging his cane and ordering, berating, and downright scolding people out of his way.
He hadn’t let go of Gideon. The prospect was forced to follow behind him. Gideon didn’t seem to be able to look above the height of anyone’s shoes. The others got out of their way with good humor. Kirby was considered a pack treasure, the first child born to a werewolf couple in Jasper and still kicking.
Brand couldn’t help but grin more. He picked up his plate and held out a hand towards Esme. “Did I see Beda’s stew?”
Esme took his hand and her own plate. “You did.”
---
Frankie stuck her head in the door of the transport hangar. She looked around and then noticed all the feet under the transport.
“Ah hah!” she said and virtually bounced inside. “As I suspected.”
Blake followed in behind her, grinning.
Skyler pushed out from under the transport. “Tell us what you suspected,” she said and rolled her eyes.
“Savannah is being a slave driver.” Frankie cocked her hips and set the pile of plates she had in her hands down on a bench. Each plate had a metal cover over it. Blake set his own pile next to hers and produced from his vest pockets silverware and small packets of salt and pepper.
“I am.” Savannah’s voice was muffled. “Skyler, get back here!”
Skyler sighed and pushed her body back under the transport.
Frankie marched over to the transport and leaned over, her butt in the air and her hair hanging down and brushing the floor. “You are going to stop right now.”
Eberron spoke up, “Sounds good to me.”
“No,” Savannah said.
Frankie stomped her foot. “It is dinner time! Blake and I made up plates with all of your favorite foods, and made a special trip all the way out here. You will stop and eat it.”
Savannah’s hands paused.
Frankie crossed her arms.
The others watched Savannah, not daring to move until she did.
Frankie scowled. “I will drag you out of there.”
Eberron grinned. Savannah didn’t move.
Frankie pulled out the big guns. “Or else there won’t be any dessert.”
Savannah’s head tilted up. “No dessert?”
“Nope.” Frankie sniffed. “None for you for being such a meanie.”
Quinn started to grin.
Skyler poked Savannah’s leg. She grinned. Frankie always had the best ‘insults.’ “You don’t want to be a meanie, do you?”
Savannah scowled. “Will it get this transport fixed faster?”
“Now, Savannah!” Frankie stomped her foot again.
“Not if we’re dying of starvation,” Skyler said.
Frankie glared at Skyler. She didn’t need help getting Savannah to do what she wanted, and if Skyler wasn’t careful and said too much, then Savannah wouldn’t do what Frankie said out of sheer stubbornness.
Savannah sighed and dropped her tools. “All right, all right, dinner time.”
“Oh thank God,” Quinn breathed and pushed himself out. “And thank you, Frankie.”
Frankie straightened and jumped away from him. “Don’t hug me, you’re covered in grease.”
Eberron worked his way out and sat up. He looked at Quinn. Quinn looked at him. They grinned at each other. Frankie’s foot lashed out and she hooked it around Quinn’s leg, and with a quick jerk, had him on the floor. He managed to save himself before his head hit the floor, but not the rest of him.
“Don’t think about it,” she warned.
“Ow. I see stars,” Quinn said. He put a hand on his head.
Skyler sat up and unzipped her coverall, turning it over and tying the arms around her waist as a quick belt. “That’s the blood rushing from your head.”
“Don’t you mean to my head?” Quinn looked over at Skyler.
“Did he have any blood in his head to begin with?” Savannah asked as she came out from under the transport. She unzipped her own coverall and tied the arms of it around her waist too as Skyler had done.
“I’ll hit him and we can find out,” Eberron said and hefted his tool. “Hold still.”
Quinn rolled to his feet and dodged out of Eberron’s reach. He ran towards the side of the shop where a large sink had been set up with plenty of soap. Eberron hefted his tool.
“Eating, Eb,” Savannah said gently. They’d be around forever if Eberron and Quinn decided to tussle.
Eberron sighed and set the tool down. Savannah wouldn’t normally condone violence towards Quinn either. Except right now she was annoyed with him.
Savannah came over and gave Blake a hug. “Thank you, Blake.”
Blake hugged her back. “You’re welcome.” He let Savannah go.
“Yes, thank you, Blake!” Quinn said from across the room.
“Yeah, you know, what they said,” Eb said and headed over to the sink.
Quinn splashed him with water. Eb splashed him back. Skyler rolled her eyes, came over, and used a hip to shove them apart.
Blake grinned and tugged his bowler hat down. “You going back in, Frankie?” he asked.
Frankie came over and hugged Savannah around the shoulders. “Nope. I’ll have dinner out here with the crew.”
Savannah leaned into her.
Blake nodded. “Okay, eat well!”
“Eat well,” Eberron replied. “I like that. Eat well.”
Blake shook his head and left the hangar, walking across the parking lot towards the clubhouse and to Poppy.
Hands, face, and arms clean, Quinn started opening the plates. Savannah turned and hugged Frankie quickly, then wiggled out of her arms to wash her own hands. They gathered around the table, sorting through the plates, getting silverware and bickering over who was supposed to get what until Frankie put her foot down and told them who was supposed to get what. They found whatever they could, toolboxes, crates, and benches or the floor and sat down.
They all looked at Savannah. Savannah sighed and said grace, knowingly echoing Padre in the clubhouse. “Our Heavenly Father, thank you for this food you have granted us, and the company you have given us. In your name, Amen.”
Skyler dug her fork into her food and glanced at Savannah. “At this rate, we won’t have the thrusters aligned until tomorrow night. And we won’t be able to do anything about all the carbonization,” she said, and then made sure she got a big bite of food.
Savannah nodded.
Quinn shoved food around his plate and glowered at it. “It is not my fault,” he muttered.
Skyler swallowed. “Yes it is! You hurt my baby!” Her fork bounced off of her plate.
“I was being shot at, I didn’t have a choice!” Quinn riposted. “And it’s not only your baby!”
Savannah glared at him. “Being shot would have done a lot less damage than what you did to it.”
“You would rather I had been shot?”
“At this point, yes! Half, Quinn, half of the thrusters are burnt out.”
Quinn squirmed. “I know that, I was there, you weren’t. I had no choice.”
Savannah rolled her eyes. “Of course you had no choice, it’s a nice excuse to avoid taking blame.”
“I was being shot at,” Quinn repeated. “And I had to dodge out of the way.”
Savannah wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “It’s a transport, not a fighter jet.”
Quinn ignored her. “And in dodging, she stalled. And when I got her out of the stall, I was about to hit this big thing called a mountain. I had to dodge again. It went into another stall.”
“You overcorrected twice.” Savannah glared at him. “Twice, Quinn. It is a transport!”
“The computers completely shorted on me, I’m headed towards the ground on the manual.”
Eberron looked up. “Wait, the computers shorted?” he asked. Quinn hadn’t mentioned the computers in his report.
“I’m by myself, and with the electronics out, there’s no way for me to kick in the back up wings on my own. The damn thing is a flying brick, and you know it. I’m headed towards the ground at an angle,” Quinn made a motion with his hands. “And I had to muscle it into an approximation of level flight, and the thrusters kick back on in time for me to slow it down by something other than pulling the nose upwards, and I wrestle it into a landing. I hear something explode as more of the thrusters died. But hey, I’m on the ground, alive.”
“Oh lucky us.” Savannah’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Any landing you walk away from is a good one,” Quinn riposted.
Skyler rolled her eyes and sneered at the same time. “Says you.”
“I’m sitting there going ‘I’m alive, I’m alive.’ Heart going a mile a minute and the computers beep and come back up. I start swearing.”
“And predictably.” Eberron waved his fork to the side.
“They started to die on me again. I didn’t mean it. I apologized. I begged them to stay on.”
Eberron grinned. “Which has nothing to do with whether or not they were going to work.”
“And they miraculously stayed on. But I’ve lost about half the thrusters, the other half are out of alignment but they worked and at least the body wasn’t damaged. I make it to the rendezvous point, late. Brand wants to know what took me so long, and I had to tell him that rebel scum, in what was supposed to be a safe zone, had taken pot shots at the transport with fucking shoulder rockets.”
Savannah stared at him. “There are no safe zones in Africa,” she said slowly.
“Brand didn’t seem phased about the whole thing. I wanted to know why we haven’t put any weapons or shields on this thing. And he turns to me and goes ‘Weapons, shields, I know not of these things you speak of.’”
Frankie slapped her hand over her eyes.
Skyler glared at him. “This isn’t a science fiction film.”
“We’re far enough into the future that we should have come up with portable energy shield for our transports by now.”
Eberron shifted. “Portable is a key word there. Energy shields take a lot of power. You are either flying or you are powering a shield, not both at the same time.”
Quinn glowered and didn’t comment. “I didn’t dare put it on auto-pilot on the way back. I’m thankful we made it all the way back.”
Savannah gritted her teeth. “You fried the underbelly.” In places by her estimation the carbonization was half an inch thick.
“Be grateful there is an underbelly!”
Eberron leaned back and stuck his leg out. “I heard that Brand had to remind the two of you that it wasn’t your transport,” he said.
Skyler and Quinn squirmed in their seats and refused to look at them. Savannah ducked her head and grinned.
Eberron scratched his chin with the end of his fork. “Yep, had to jog your memory of the difference between private property and Club property, and who paid for what.”
They wouldn’t look at him.
“You know, Rio might take exception to that,” Savannah said.
Quinn perked up. “Where is Rio?”
“She didn’t crash the transport.”
“What about Houston?”
Savannah didn’t change expression. “He also didn’t crash the transport.”
Skyler sighed. “So, we’re getting punished?”
“We’re the ones with the next job,” Savannah shrugged a shoulder.
“Know anything about it?”
“Doctor, Africa.”
Quinn groaned. “Not Africa again.”
“This time, Skyler is flying the transport.”
Skyler smirked.
Quinn stiffened. “Hey!”
“You flew it last and wrecked it. It is Skyler’s turn.”
“To wreck it,” Eberron added on.
Skyler glared at Eberron. “Will not! I’m better than that.”
Eberron stood. “I’m going to look for that short.”
“Since someone didn’t report it.” Savannah glowered. Now it was going to take longer to get enough carbon scoring off the bottom of the transport to realign the working thrusters and replace the dead ones. And they wouldn’t be able to go anywhere until Eberron was done taking the entire wiring system apart.
“They were working again!”
“No more excuses.” Savannah stood up and slammed her fork against her plate. “I need chocolate,” she muttered.
“I made brownies!” Frankie said. “Okay, the troop made brownies and I absconded with a pan.”
“Should I be wary?” Savannah asked. The troop that Frankie spoke of was her Girl Scout troop and Savannah wasn’t sure if she should trust chocolate brownies made by a bunch of twelve to sixteen year olds.
Frankie grinned and shook her head. “I taste tested them already.”
Quinn frowned. “That’s cheating.”
“I’ve had them two days!”
Skyler nodded. “That’s restraint.”
Frankie crossed her ankles. “And I had to hide them from the pups.”
Savannah opened the plate that held the brownies and counted them. “Why does it look like half the pan is missing?”
Frankie flushed. “I didn’t say how big of a taste test,” she muttered.
Savannah looked over her shoulder, raised an eyebrow at Frankie, and rolled her eyes upwards. She picked up a brownie, bit into it, and then her eyes closed. She chewed and swallowed. Maybe if Quinn made her a big pan of brownies like this, she’d forgive him.
Then again, she didn’t trust Quinn near an oven without blowing it up. She ate the brownie and licked her fingers. It was time to get back to work.