𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | austin butler

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

"That's why you're the treasurer, Marcus. You don't run jack shit around here. You crunch the numbers, give them to me, and that's what I go off of. That's the definition of your job around here." Austin sat up a little straighter in his leather work chair, jabbing his finger into the desk hard enough to rattle it as he spoke. "I don't need you getting all high and mighty, trying to take charge of things. Xavier let all of you fuckers do whatever the hell you wanted while I was locked up, but I'm back now, so things are going back to the way they were." All Austin wanted to do was go home and shower. It was nearly one in the morning, and he had barely gotten a wink of sleep over the last three days. The blonde had expected the Vice President to keep up with all of the prospects, club funds, and the general upkeep of the building as well as it's members. It wasn't too much to ask, right? Not when you were getting paid handsomely for it. Austin continued to run the more illegal practices himself while he rotted away in prison for two years, not trusting anyone else to do it. This- the mess on his desk- was the exact reason why he didn't trust anyone.

Marcus swallowed thickly, watching his boss nervously, as though he was a ticking time-bomb just waiting to go off. And maybe Austin was. He felt like it was only a matter of time before he absolutely flipped shit and destroyed either something or someone. No one had been keeping up with anything while he was gone. Austin had continued flowing money into this place, while all they did with it was buy booze, women, and lord knows what else. The building was an absolute wreck. There were holes in the walls, half of the toilets in the entire building no longer worked, and to make matters worse an enemy Club had broken into their garage two months ago and had stolen three of Austin's classic bikes while he was still away. No one had the balls to call him up and tell him.

What a nice fucking welcome home present.

"If I come back here tomorrow and these papers aren't dated and filed when I get back? I'll have your fucking head," He stood up roughly, leaning forward so that he could get right in Marcus's face. "Are we clear?" His voice was eerily calm, using the same tone that he would when speaking to a child. The middle aged bald man hurriedly nodded, fumbling forward so that he could start scooping up the mass of papers. Austin kicked the leather chair he had just stood up from, hearing it clatter into the wall roughly behind him. "And fucking fix whatever the hell I just broke." He muttered before walking out his office door. A few members were still hanging around, laughing amongst themselves as they sat around a poker table talking. The dumb assholes had the audacity to have their feet kicked up on the table, drinking Jack Daniel's and shooting the shit as though they hadn't absolutely destroyed the place. Austin's eye twitched as he walked behind the bar, grabbing a fresh pack of Marlboros before sauntering over towards them. "What's so funny guys?" They froze as they heard their President's voice, all looking up at him with fearful, glassy eyes. "No, don't quiet down now. I want to know what's so fucking funny." Austin had been out of prison for all of three days. The first two days he had tried to readjust to normal life, and today he was expecting to come back to the club, maybe fix a few things that were out of place, and then go about business as usual.

He could barely sleep in his bed, now completely unused to a regular mattress, which had made it nearly impossible to keep his already ridiculous anger issues under control. Not only that, but he no longer had a bitch-boy bunkie to boss around and wannabe gangsters to treat as punching bags whenever he needed to let off some steam. Then he comes back to this? He was shaking, his sharp jawline ticking as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. He could barely resist the urge to bash the new member's face into the table until the fuck stopped twitching.

"You know what. . ." Austin grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. He began wagging pointer finger at the group, all of them already shifting in their seats as they waited for the shit show that was bound to start any second. "I think I know what's funny." Austin grabbed an empty bottle of whiskey, lazily dragging it across the table before gripping it in his large hand. He stared down at the label for a few seconds, taking a steadying breath in through his nose before he finally looked back at the table. They flinched away from his heated gaze, the older member's beginning to cower as they recognized the murderous intent in his eyes. "It's how fucking disgusting this place is!" He reared back and tossed the glass against the wall behind them, the thing hitting the wooden surface so hard that it practically turned to dust. They all covered their heads, pushing their way out of their seats in an attempt to get away. "If you boys want to stay here and drink for the rest of the night, then by all means. Do it. But clean this place up first!" He stalked across the club, slamming the front door closed so hard that it shook the hinges, before straddling his Harley.