I can’t decide whether to be flattered or irritated. “Why the fuck…why Eleven?”
“You don’t watch much TV do you? It’s the girl off Stranger Things. Her name’s Eleven. She has a bunch of awesome powers.”
I’m not that much in tune with kids, but naming yourself off a TV show is the kind of stuff that gets you teased. Max will eat that nickname up and spit it out. “You can’t call yourself Eleven. Max will know why and mess with you about it.”
She considers this and nods. “You’re right. I guess Seven then.”
“Why Seven then?”
“After you, of course, but before you.” She grins slyly. “Get it?”
I nod. “I get it.”
Mercifully, we arrive at the clubhouse. As we wait for the gates to open, she says, “Why the gates?”
“Security.”
“Why do you need security?”
“We don’t always get along with people.”
“Neither does my mom.”
Big surprise there. “Does she lock the doors at night?”
“Yeah.”
“Same thing then.”
She’s already moved on. “Who’s that?” She points at the guy guarding the gate.
“Chili,” I reply. He’s a new prospect. A bouncer from our club who’s tough, smart, but so fucking honest, if he found a dime on the road, he’d try to track down the guy who lost it.
She gives me a side-eyed glance. “Is he one of your…brothers?”
I actually chuckle at how cute she sounds. “Not a full-fledged one. He’s on probation. Hasn’t earned his colours.”
I nod at Chili as I roll through the gates.
Henri looks over her shoulder at him. “Why’s he called Chili?”
“That’s his name.”
“Chili’s his name?”
“Last name, I guess.” I never stopped to think about it. Don’t care.
She spies the row of bikes lined up. “Which one is yours?”
“None. Mine’s at home.”
“Can I ride on it when we get home?”
“No.”
“Why? Oscar gets to.”
“That’s different. Oscar doesn’t have a mom who’ll lose her shit over me giving you a ride on the back of my bike.”
