Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 93698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Zeke griped, “Jesus. It’s fuckin’ easier to peddle pot on the fuckin’ corner.”
“But not as profitable. Medical’s legal, recreational ain’t. Openin’ up a dispensary’s like bein’ a dealer with the backin’ of the state. No one’s goin’ to prison when they’re sellin’ legal flower.”
“‘Less they do somethin’ fuckin’ stupid,” Rage said.
“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me?” Zeke asked their sergeant at arms.
“With his record, he ain’t gonna be allowed to stick his mitts in that business,” Zane informed everyone at the table.
Wheels barked out a laugh. “Think that’s gonna stop him from doin’ somethin’ stupid?”
Zeke glanced down the table at their road captain. “Thanks for the fuckin’ vote of confidence, brother.”
Wheels shrugged. “Just callin’ it as I see it.”
Zane continued. “Not sure how many of our brothers, or prospects, are gonna be able to work there, anyway. Lily said the state reviews each applicant’s background for any past offenses. So, they not only gotta pass our inspection, but the fuckin’ state’s. They could be denied for prior convictions when it comes to any kinda drug offenses. If they got some, they gotta provide proof they’re no longer involved in that shit.”
“How the fuck you prove you’re no longer doin’ somethin’?” Chaos asked. “It’s like askin’ for proof of fuckin’ Santa or the Easter Bunny.”
“Or Sasquatch,” Wheels threw in.
“No fuckin’ idea,” Zane answered. “Guess we’ll find out if it comes down to it.”
“Just gotta be real goddamn picky ‘bout who’s workin’ there as budtenders,” Rage said. “When it comes to our members, we know who got a fuckin’ record and who don’t. Could always get Vi to run some background checks before hirin’ any outside employees so we don’t waste our fuckin’ time.”
“True that,” Zane said.
“Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” Zeke said next.
If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have any outside employees. They needed to trust anyone working there one hundred fucking percent. That was the main reason they tried to fill their businesses with the DAMC members and family.
By only working for the club businesses, that also meant the members were filling the DAMC’s coffers with more than only dues. Doing that benefitted them all.
Especially their prez with a kid to support.
Even though Ky hadn’t mentioned scratch yet, Zeke figured that was coming soon. But even if she didn’t bring it up, his kid would want for fucking nothing.
“There’s always the women. None of them, ‘cept my sister, got any kinda fuckin’ record.” Chaos then added, “That I know of, anyway.”
True. Bri had a record but she was the only one Zeke knew of, unless they hid it. But Beck’s sister—along with Zane—ran the pawn shop like it was her own and she also got to live in the upstairs apartment rent-free. It was a goddamn win-win situation for both her and the club. The woman had some great business skills.
Zeke turned his attention to Cruz next, since he was the club treasurer. A dispensary wouldn’t happen at all if they couldn’t afford to open one. “Think we can swing it scratch-wise?”
Cruz sat back and scratched the back of his neck. “That type of business ain’t no joke. Gonna cost a shitload of scratch before we’re even making a fucking dime. If the state even approves our application.”
Zeke didn’t like the sound of that. “What kinda scratch we talkin’?”
“The application fee’s five fucking grand and, worse, it’s non-fucking-refundable. So we gotta make sure we got every fucking T crossed and I dotted before applying cause that’ll be a helluva hit.”
“Fuck,” just about everyone at the table groaned at the same time.
“That ain’t the worst of it. Permit fee’s thirty big ones.”
Zeke just about choked. “Thirty? What the actual fuck?”
“Yeah. And that’s just the state fees,” Cruz said. “We ain’t even talking the cost of the building, the inventory, employees, and all the rest. At least the thirty K’s refundable.”
“Well, thank fuck for that,” Zeke muttered.
“Also need to prove we have one-hundred-fifty large in capital,” Cruz finished.
“Sounds like the easiest shit on the list,” Zane said.
The club owned plenty of buildings and property. Not to mention the whole damn DAMC old folks village. The OGs owned their own houses, but the club owned the land under them to keep it a restricted neighborhood. Like one of those pain-in-the-ass homeowners associations but biker style.
Not just anyone could live behind those gates and walls. For obvious reasons.
“Depends,” Cruz said. “Agree with Lily about starting an LLC. And it’ll be smart to put it under one of the women’s names. The state ain’t gonna approve shit if it’s directly tied to the club.”
“A new LLC ain’t gonna have that much in capital,” Zane mentioned.
“It could,” Cruz countered. “Just have to transfer a business over.”
“What business?”
All eyes turned to Zeke at the head of the table. He considered everything Cruz and Zane just laid out. He hated that they might have to leave it in one of the women’s hands, but it might be the only choice.