“Of course, I am. I’m the president. See?”
The way he points to the patch on his chest makes it impossible to fight the laughter. But I do my best to cover it with another cough. “That says vice president, Benny.”
He glances down and grimaces. “Gotta change that. We’re still figuring out what works before we waste money on real leather, you know?”
Apparently, he’s incapable of leaving a statement as a statement. Everything ends in a question. I don’t think he actually knows what he’s talking about.
“So, there’s… more of you?”
He gives me a look like I’m an idiot. “You can’t have a motorcycle club with only one person, right?”
The urge to ask him if the rest of his club members are visible to the general public is almost too strong to ignore, but I manage to restrain myself. “So, you’re testing out club names?”
“No, we decided on Sons of Devils. But leather vests are expensive, so we’re using ones we found online instead. At least until we get our gig set up to bring in money, you know?”
“Just so you know, I’m pretty sure what you’re doing is copyright infringement, but I’m not a lawyer.”
Winking, he leans forward. “Who gives a fuck about the law, am I right?”
“Well, I don’t think bikers typically steal other clubs’ identities, real or from Hollywood, but you did upgrade from a Prius to a Harley, so…”
“Right? Badass, huh?”
“Also, it’s called a kutte.”
“What?”
“You said leather vests are expensive, but MCs call it a kutte.”
He frowns. “Like scissors?”
Dear God, help me. “Never mind.”
Benny takes off his hat, and I nearly gasp. What looked like flowy blond hair comes off with it—revealing a balding head with short brown hair. I’ve officially been hat-fished.
“What’s wrong? Really turned on, aren’t you? Let’s order first, and then we can discuss dessert. It’s not a standard after dinner snack, but I have a hot dog you can devour later. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Yeah, none of that is happening. “Your hair is… different from your picture,” I manage to say.
Looking down at his hat, his eyes widen. “Oh, shit!”
The blond hair isn’t part of the hat like I first thought. It’s a wig taped to his forehead that his sweat managed to loosen.
This man is wearing a full-on costume at this point.
“My bad. Can we pretend you didn’t see that?”
“I don’t think I can, Benny.”
“Well, I mean, the night’s going to end up with us in bed together, so it won’t really matter since everything’s going to come off anyway. You know what I mean?”
Oh my God. Mona can never know about this. I’ll never hear the end of it. This guy is beyond delusional, and I’m on a date with him.
Some happily ever after.
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Bad Date Recap
