“Maybe you should give them a song,” Butler said, forcing a hollow chuckle in a failed bid to sound confident.
“Isn’t there a stage door? A back way out of here?”
“Any way but out the front door, I’m finished and you’re dead. Do you understand?”
She understood that Butler believed he needed to play chicken with an angry bar full of drunk bigots. Alpha dogs couldn’t very well slip out the back. Not if they hoped to ever call the shots again. She also understood that her life now depended on keeping her mouth shut while this white man did the talking. As metaphors went, it was a little on the nose for her tastes, but if that’s what it took, that’s what it took.
“It’ll be fine,” he said, although she couldn’t decide which of them he was trying to convince.
“Will it?”
Butler glared down at her, clearly disappointed by her lack of team spirit, and marched to the front of the club as if expecting the men to wilt in his presence. When they reached the bar, the waiting men didn’t give an inch. Butler could have tried to push his way through, but even Con knew that in the unspoken dynamics of men that would spell disaster. The men stared him down, a wall of cooling-tower eyes and clenched jaws. Up close, Con saw there were more like thirty of them, a mixture of races and ages. She thought it was nice how hatred could bring people together.
“John?” Butler called out. “I thought we had a deal. Are we really doing this?”
“This is bullshit, Franklin,” John’s voice replied from behind the wall of men. There was a rumble of agreement. Whatever deal had been struck did not appear to have gone over well with the rank and file. Franklin Butler wasn’t the only one whose standing was on the line.
“It’s the way it has to be, John.”
“So you say.”
“That’s right, that’s what I say,” Butler said loudly to make sure everyone heard him, his voice laden with grave disappointment. “And I would have thought that what I say would carry a little more weight at this point.”
“But we have her now,” John pressed. “With all the media attention she’s getting? We should capitalize on that. No one invited you here. She needs to be made an example of.”
“String her up!” a voice called out, provoking a roar of approval.
Con felt herself begin to shake and couldn’t will herself to stop. It wasn’t fear exactly, although she was definitely afraid. But when neither fight nor flight was an option, there was nowhere for the adrenaline to go. She felt it pooling up inside her like a toxic spill. Her only hope was that they couldn’t see it in the dim lights. The hell if she would give them the satisfaction.
Butler’s voice somehow rose above the competing din. “And your initiative will be an asset to the national committee, John. I know they will be as excited as I am to welcome you. But unfortunately, the big picture takes precedence.”
“Fuck the big picture,” a voice snarled from the back.
“Fuck the big picture?” Butler said, relaxing now that he had an argument to make. “My friends. There is no picture but the big picture. Our friends in the Virginia police give CoA chapters a lot of latitude to operate freely. They turn a blind eye to your, shall we say, extralegal activities. However, that loyalty is a two-way street, and the fact of the matter is our allies in the department consider this thing”—Butler gestured dismissively to Con—“integral to their investigation. Under any other circumstances, I would tie the noose myself. You all know that. But how fast will our support dry up if we take matters into our own hands before they are done?”
Butler paused to let that sink in. This time, no voices rose to interrupt. Sensing he was swaying them to his side, he laid it on thick. “To be honest, this entire chapter deserves recognition. You’re the shock troops of the CoA. And that begins with your leader, John Highsmith.”
That earned a rousing cheer, and Butler smiled magnanimously. The men turned, parting slightly, and Con caught sight of Big John Highsmith, who stood behind the bar with the look of a man who couldn’t decide if he’d just won or lost. Butler pointed at him, letting everyone know exactly who the man was, and began to applaud. The men joined in heartily. Con thought it would lose a little something if she joined in and kept her hands at her side.
“John?” Butler called out when the noise died down. “What’s it to be? This is your place. The decision’s yours. Do we give it back to the police or fetch a rope?”