When I’m out of the shower and dressed, I grab my wallet, cell, and key to leave.
“Morning.” My brother reaches the bottom step, giving me a tired smile.
“Hey, morning,” I respond, smiling.
“What are you so happy about?” he asks.
I shrug. “Nothing really.”
“Bullshit. You still drunk?”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the pang of hurt that hits my chest.
“No, actually. I haven’t drank anything since yesterday afternoon.”
“Wow, that must be a new record.”
“Fuck off, Tommy.”
He chuckles as he rounds the corner to go into the kitchen. I take a deep breath and go out the door. I’m the only one to blame for people thinking I’m a drunk. Idodrink a lot, but it’s not a problem. Really, it’s not. It’s just part of my lifestyle. What the fuck else is there to do in this small town?
As I ride to the clubhouse, all I can think about is her.
Her face is burned into my brain like a brand, and I don’t even want to get it out. I like it there. It makes me happy.
I wish I could talk to her right now, but of course there’s shit to do. And I don’t have her phone number, if she even has a phone. Now that I think about it, she probably doesn’t.
When I get to the club, everyone else is already there. I’m usually the last one here, even when I’m sleeping in the bar. I fucking hate waking up in the morning. Mornings suck.
“Look who finally made it,” Rhino says, shoving a forkful of pancake into his mouth. I give him the middle finger, then walk over to grab a plate. I fill it with pancakes and sausage, douse it in syrup, and drop between Shark and Rhino.
“What’s the plan for today?” Shark asks.
Though he and Snapper are brothers, with only two years between them, they couldn’t be more opposite. They havesimilar features, but Shark’s build is more like mine, just a little smaller. Snapper is tall but not as bulky as us.
“I have to go do rounds. Check on the borders and the patrol guys. Heard some rumblings of weird behavior,” I say.
“Such as?” he asks.
As the VP, he has a right to know this. Hell, as a member of the club, he has a right to know this, but I can handle it myself. They don’t need to check up on every little thing I do.
“Showing up late. Disappearing in the night. Probably stupid shit, but I’m handling it.”
Kaison nods, cutting into his pancakes. I don’t know what Spam does to them, or anything else he cooks, but I swear there’s crack in here. It’s all so fucking good all the time.
“Yo, when are you gonna make those burritos again?” I yell out to Spam, who’s flipping more pancakes.
“When you suck my dick.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” I say back as the other guys chuckle. “I’d do it,” I add, nudging Shark.
“No, the fuck you would not.”
“Those things are so fucking good.”
“Good enough to suck cock?” he asks with a raised brow.
“Okay, no.”
