Chapter 1 - Fresh Blood
“If you all want Stone to break that bottle of drink and christen this fine establishment, I suggest we all take it outside”, Timber boomed, drawing everyone’s attention.
Beetle jumped the bar and started heading for the front door.
“Edge, Spanner man the bar”, Beetle yelled, as everyone else shot from their seats and headed in the same direction.
“Fuck no, I’m still recovering”, said Spanner picking up his beer to head out.
“Ask a prospect”, Edge said complaining.
Sonya and China were already making their way outside, ignoring Edge who had obviously spat the dummy.
“You are the prospect dip shit”, said Beetle nodding at the bar. “You stay and make sure the bar stays the way I left it. Last thing we needs is trouble on the first night. Be the man”, Beetle yelled over his shoulder to Edge before following Spanner who had just pushed the heavy oak door to join everyone else.
He and Frost had found the tradies who'd travelled from interstate under Stone’s strict instructions, ‘get someone old, experienced and doesn’t know how to fight their way out of a paper bag’.
Because they’re more than likely hard working, want to earn a descent dollar and need a break from their missus.
The main reason: they won’t go back and tell Jo-blow that they had installed hidden cavities in walls, constructed from scratch an underground room, installed two holding cells and secured a five tonne safe below the room in which the Razor’s held church. A hidden ‘safe room’. No pun intended!
Apart from the usual shit of pulling out rot, sugar soaping walls and ceilings, then painting over stains, sanding then re-staining hard wood floors, not to mention the existing thirty-foot bar.
Plumbing amenities were completely gutted, which Spanner appreciated since he used the Mens’ room so often, compliments of the fluid tablets Doc had him on since having surgery on his shoulder.
Old electrical fixtures had been replaced with new, old wiring and an outdated electrical boards had been upgraded with circuit breakers and stuff. Much to China’s delight, as Razor’s tech guru he was shittin’ daisies.
Mallie insisted on buying brand new linen, pillows, towels and new mattresses for each fuck room, even the private bedrooms permanent club members used when they weren’t at their own place, on the road, or were needing sleep after a hard night on the liquor.
Apparently, she didn’t like the stink, not that Beetle noticed. Once his head hit the sack, lights out literally.
Stone had Mal in his arms waiting as everyone piled outside, he had a big grin on his face. Any wonder, Mal looked sensational!
“Everyone ...” Stone said not raising his voice, he didn’t need to ’cos you either listened or had your ears clouted.
He looked at Mallie again then turned to face the crowd.
“... As you know Mallie’s expecting my babe. Trying to do things right around Razor’s is like pulling teeth from a slug”.
“Didn’t know your dick could chew”, Frost said making everyone laugh.
“Unlike yours which you left behind when you were hiding under that bush for two days”, Stone retorted.
“Just livin’ on the edge”, Beetle chimed in, standing next to Frost.
"Here, here“, everyone echoed.
Beetle felt proud, he and Frost had overseen the entire process, practically holding hands with their eyes closed.
Not that they held hands, they’d shoot each other’s dick off before that happened or stab each other in the throat.
However, as Vice-President a lot of responsibility fell on his shoulders when Stone, the President of Razor’s was busy doing other shit.
Like ordering wooden houses to get burnt down with two psycho nutcases still inside, they weren’t breathing, but still...
Or using a President at a rival M.C named Reeve’s to personally offer protection to a guy named O'Rourke who owns nightclubs and sex clubs a few towns over. The very man who hurt his President’s old lady Mallie before Stone met her. Creepy!
It didn’t matter if shit happened today, yesterday, or ten years back, an eye for an eye! Razor's ideology!
“Got something you wanna say Beetle? Frost?” asked Stone pulling a huge bottle from the side bag on his bike.
“Didn’t gouge Beetles eyes out so we done alright”, said Frost giving Beetle the stink eye.
It was nearly time to celebrate, the place was finally finished thought Beetle looking around at everyone and then nodding at Stone.
"I do. Been a long time coming. Was about time our club got some new bones, hope they keep our secrets like the piles of wood you intend on burning Prez. Just don't fuck up tonight ..." he said looking around at everyone "... tomorrow I won't care who pisses on the floor or shit's their pants. Kept some things of significance, our history untouched on purpose, as proof we're the Razor's M.C and we cut deep", Beetle said in a louder voice.
"Here, here", everyone echoed.
Stone smashed the bottle on the side wall of the club. There it was done. What followed was a momentary silence before everyone roared and cheered.
Somewhere in the back amongst the throngs of people, some clown must have fizzed a bottle or two of bubbly because everyone started parting like the red sea.
"Let's just hope that shithead doesn't bring that kinda mentality back inside", Frost said loud enough for quite a few to hear as he headed back inside.
His painful walk more pronounced; all the physical work he'd done of late taking a toll on his leg. By the end of the night Frost will be lucky if he was still standing.
Beetle looked around at some new faces, some familiar then walked up to Stone and Mal.
"Congrat's on being a baby daddy Prez. So that slug not only has teeth it spits as well!" Beetle said making Stone chuckle. "Mal, gotta be honest. You've a captivated audience, caught me by surprise. Tonight, you truly are a President's old lady".
"Lucky you added that dip shit! Told Mal if I got in a brawl then we'd be leaving early".
"Then, close your eyes 'cos everyone's looking", Beetle said laughing, then doing what Frost had done moments ago, went back inside through the huge oak doors.
Unbeknownst to Beetle, there was another who'd noticed the whole christening ordeal with the bottle of whisky. Broken right below one of the lights their father had hard wired, one of twelve to be exact. Made to order under strict instructions, the craftsmanship and iron work unique to anywhere else. It was an original design, a rustic piece which suited the Razor's M.C perfectly.