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~oOo~
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“Thanks, fellas,” Eightsaid, and Apollo and Jazz both sat back in their chairs. “Okay,” Eight said to the table as a whole. “The Silver Dragons thing is what it is. They’ve done their bitching, and they fell in line. We know they heard about the new charter through casino connections, so I swear to fucking Christ, the setup crew had better Gorilla Glue their lips together when they’re away from what they know is safe ground. No chatter off premises. At all. There’s too much about Laughlin we can’t know until we’re established there.”
“And somebody on that crew needs to know how to work the tech shit,” Maverick added. “Scramblers, detectors, whatever all that shit Apollo and Jazz do to make sure we’re private, somebody in Nevada needs to know how to do it.”
“Good point,” Eight said. “So let’s figure that crew out. We’re still running full speed while Laughlin’s getting going, so we can’t lose too many at this table. Four is the most—and the least. That leaves us ten here at home, and enough there to do the physical setup and recruitment.”
“Everybody knows I want in,” Coop said. “As president.”
Eight looked hard at him. “You makin’ this a permanent commitment?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll pass the baton or whatever and come back when the time’s right. But I’m leaving the chance open that I might want to stay. Either way, when we’re ready to put the patches on, that table should vote on their president. But I’m the right guy for the job while we’re setting it up.”
“How you figure?” Fitz asked. “No offense, bro, but you’re not usually first in line for the tough shit.”
Typically, Cooper didn’t take offense. He took shit as well as he dished it. He grinned at Fitz. “Yeah, but this is the shit I wasbuiltfor. Recruitment is all PR. I know how to target the right guys, how to identify the wrong guys, and how to get the right guys onboard.”
It was true. Cooper was a solid brother all around. Fitz was right that he wasn’t usually racing to the front to volunteer for tough work, but he didn’t balk at it, either. He was a badass in a fight, too, with some martial arts training—an actual black belt in something. Judo, maybe? At the table, he wasn’t a standout, but he was no slouch. But nobody had a better radar for which hangarounds would make good prospects—and which ones wanted it—and he could sniff out trouble brewing at parties faster than anyone. And he really was charismatic, the kind of guy everybody liked straight off. Maybe his relentless irreverence would piss you off later, but at first, he was funny and charming. And he was good looking, apparently. He practically had a line of club girls following him around like the Pied Piper.
Oh, another good point—good enough to say aloud. “He’ll bring in the chicks, too,” Zach pointed out.
Cooper’s grin about split his face in half. “Damn right I will.”
Chuckling, Eight said, “Okay. Let’s put it to a vote. All those in favor of Coop being the acting president of the Laughlin charter during the setup? Show of hands.”
The vote was unanimous. Cooper voted for himself with both hands.
Before Eight could call the next question, Zach said, “I want in, too. And I’m decent with tech shit, so I can handle the bug zappers and shit.” He looked to Apollo. “I’d just need to sit down with you and make sure I do it like you want.”
Eight turned to Apollo as well. “What do you think about it?”
Apollo looked at Jazz, and they had a brief conversation with their eyes. They worked together so much it was probably like him and Jay, knowing each other so well they could almost literally read each other’s thoughts.
Sitting right next to him with his arms crossed, Jay’s thoughts could probably be read by dead people. He was sullen and quiet. Zach wondered if his own brother would vote against him.
Apollo turned back to Eight. “Yeah. I’ve seen Zach in action on gear, and he can handle it. You’re right we need somebody to at least handle that security, and I’m not leaving my family.”
“Me either,” Jazz put in.
With a nod, Apollo continued, “I think Zach’s probably the best one to handle it.”
“Sounds like a done deal, then, but let’s vote it. All those in favor of Zach handling tech on the setup crew. Hands again.”
Thirteen hands went up. Not fourteen.
Eight focused on the seat beside Zach’s. “You got something to say, JJ?”
Zach looked at his brother, still slouched in his seat with his arms crossed.
Jay shook his head, but then said, “I’m ... what you call it ... abstaining.”
Fuckthat noise. What a little asshole. But rather than start a thing with his brother in the chapel, Zach didn’t even throw Jay a side-eye. Instead, he looked down the table at his president and asked calmly, “Does it need to be unanimous?”
Eight directed a long look at Jay before he shifted to Zach and answered, “Charter vote did, this doesn’t. You’re in. And you’ll be acting Tech Officer. What’s next? Gargo, you got the Haddons recruited already. You want in on this, right?”