Tom and I slide on our vests and check ourselves out in the dark reflection of the bar windows.
It’s surreal seeing myself wear the cut with the skull logo stitched onto the back and the moniker that was chosen for me—Silver.
At such a young age, my hair’s already started graying. To say we gray early in my family is putting it lightly.
But I smile wide anyway, feeling like I’m on top of the fucking world.
Tom raises his beer bottle for a toast. “We did it, Jack. We made it.”
“And to think Mr. Munch from second period chemistry said we’d never amount to shit.”
He laughs, taking a swig of his beer. “Just for that, we oughta steal his car.”
He’s joking… mostly.
I’ve known Thomas Cutler since we were both learning our ABCs, and he’s always had a rebellious spirit and dark sense of humor. He’s been a troublemaker since the time we were in first grade and he knocked some kid’s tooth out for calling his mom a homewrecker.
I’m the cooler head of the two. Still a troublemaker in my own right, but a little better about using charm and wit to fly under the radar.
The music blasts through the bar, all ’80s and ’90s rock hits everybody’s heard a thousand times before. The guys pound beers back like their livers are indestructible. Both the poker and pool tables are full.
A few Tits on Heels girls have already broken out the hard liquor and started doing shots out of their belly buttons. Something Kings like Rhett “Bush” Bushman and Bill “Shots” Cash are more than happy to take part in.
One of the girls, a brunette with long hair to her ass, winks at us. She’s got the typical come hither look, like she expects us to be drawn to her as easily as the others.
I glance over and notice the interested spark in Tom’s eye.
“Don’t tell me you’re falling for it already, Cutty,” I laugh. “You know we’ve got our first mission coming up, right? The Tits on Heels are nothing but a distraction.”
“You saying Skull and the top brass are setting us up?” he asks.
A grin almost crosses my face as I lift my beer bottle for another drink. “I’m saying we all know how it goes. They always watch the new members on initiation night—andit usually ends with our first mission.”
“Fuck if I care. We’ll get shit done either way,” he says, his gaze still set on the brunette. “You know things’ve been rough between me and Dana since the baby. It’s put a strain on us.”
“Bound to happen when you have kids as young as you two.”
He scoffs. “You know that wasn’t my first choice. After Logan, I wanted to wait a while. But Dana wasn’t having it. She wanted Mason so that’s what we got.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He drains the last of his beer, then sets it down on the table next to us.
The brunette’s face brightens as she realizes what he’s doing. He’s going to her. He leaves my side and crosses the crowded barroom to go chat her up.
Probably the last time I’ll see him for the night. At least for a couple hours.
Most guys in the club aren’t faithful to their old ladies. It’s an unspoken part of the lifestyle and club culture.
The barmaids and club girls like the Tits on Heels are here solely for that purpose.
For the guys to enjoy them.
But there’s only one girl in the saloon who’s got my eye, and she’s no club girl.
My gaze naturally seeks her out among the dozens of other people. She’s up by the counter with a couple girlfriends, chatting and having a good time.
As if sensing my gaze, Rachel Roberts glances up. She looks right at me, her apple-green eyes brightening and her lips spreading in a smile.
