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placing emphasis on Pete’s Ol’ Lady , Otis’ voice quieted to a normal gravely tone. It was apparent he wanted to call Pete out in front of the fellas, but it wasn’t necessary for him to do so. It was my job .
    I scanned the room and crossed my arms in front of my chest as I made eye contact with Pete. Forty years old and an ex-con, Pete looked the part of a white supremacist. Tall and muscular, his head was clean shaven and littered with tattoos. Although his head was shaved, he had twelve inches of beard that hung from his chin, making him appear to be more at home on the yard in prison than in the free world. As our eyes locked, I clenched my jaw and flexed my biceps, “God damn, fellas. We’ve got the bylaws posted up here on the wall for a fucking reason. I know there ain’t one of you motherfuckers able to remember them all, so I posted ‘em up here for you to make reference to. Now Pete, you see the bylaws up on the wall?”
    “Yep,” he grunted.
    “See the part at the very bottom of the board on the right marked Ol’ Ladies ?” I asked as I turned around to face the bylaws.
    “Yeah,” he mumbled.
    “Read it to me if you will,” I said.
    “All of it, Slice?” he grumbled.
    “All of it,” I nodded as I turned to face him.
    My position on Ol’ Ladies wasn’t shared by the rest of the club. I believed if the club wanted members to have Ol’ Ladies, they’d have one sewn onto the front of their cut when they became patched in. In my opinion, Ol’ Ladies were a pain in the ass and a risk to the welfare of club. I hadn’t had an Ol’ Lady since high school, and the chance of that ever changing was absolutely impossible. Every problem man has on this earth begins and ends with women.
    Pete stared up at the bylaws and drew a slow breath. After a momentary study of the board, he pulled against his beard and began to read.
    “ Ol' Ladies. One , don't fuck around with another member’s Ol' Lady. Two , Ol’ Lady Property Of patches will be voted on by all eligible members of the club. One hundred percent vote or she doesn’t wear it. Sidenote : as Property Of patches are optional , be sure before you touch some chick who isn’t wearing a patch. Three , members are responsible for their Ol' Lady. Four , members may have more than one Ol ' Lady. Five , member must state who his Ol' Lady is. Six , no, your Ol’ Lady isn’t allowed in the meetings. Seven , club business is club business. Do not discuss club business with Ol’ Ladies. Eight ,” he paused and exhaled.
    After inhaling a short breath, he ran his fingers though the twelve inches of scruffy beard dangling over his chest and read the last rule, “ Eight , Ol' Ladies are allowed unescorted at the clubhouse only by prior arrangement by their Ol’ Man. Arrangement can only be made by placing an “X” beside your name on the board. No exceptions .”
    “Damn fine job, Pete. Now, let me ask you something. You see your name on the membership board behind me?” I asked.
    “Yep,” Pete grunted.
    I didn’t bother to turn around and look. I knew we wouldn’t be having this conversation if he had an “X” by his name.
    “Is there an “X” by your name, Pete?” I asked sarcastically.
    Seeming somewhat aggravated, Pete rubbed his bald head with the palms of his hands, “No, Slice, there sure as fuck ain’t.”
    “So, was Otis out of line when he escorted your Ol’ Lady off the premises?” I asked as I flexed my biceps again.
    “Slice, it wasn’t that he escorted her off, it was how he did it. He took her by the arm to the gate, and when she bitched, he told her to get the fuck off the property or he’d kick her ass,” Pete complained.
    I uncrossed my arms and raised my right hand to my chin, “Well, Pete. If you didn’t put a fucking “X” by your name, Otis was of the opinion you didn’t want your Ol’ Lady in here. Otis’ job is to protect the members of this here club, and protect us he damned sure does. Keepin’