“Okay, well, if you need to vent, or fuck your frustrations out… I’m your gal.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “You really are something good.”
She shrugs and tilts her head to the side with a cocky smirk. “I try. How ’bout we get some food? There’s a full spit roast and all the trimmings.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Chapter Fifteen
LUNAR
A Week Later
Today is New Year’s Day, and I spent last night with the Recoil boys. They performed at the Entertainment Center in Adelaide with many other performers for a New Year’s spectacular celebration. Techie and Luke lined up the gig, but of course, Techie couldn’t be there as he had to be at the clubhouse for New Year’s celebrations—biker code and all that. But Luke was there, and it went smoothly.
It was for charity, and it got me thinking. I know doing the merch stand has proven to be a reliable source of income, but I will need more to leave the club for good. I have to keep supporting Mom and Stuart, so I need financial stability, and it weighs heavily on my mind.
As I lie in bed with Danger, I have a hangover, but my mind is clear. “How hard would it be to set up a charity foundation? One where the funds from what you do help raise awareness of autism. And then could help people go to schools to instruct teachers and students about children with autism?”
He shifts beneath me and raises a brow. “I have no idea, but if we talk to the right people, we could get something done. What are you thinking?” he asks, and I smile.
“Yeah. I think it could tie in with how music can be a relaxant for those with autism. Recoil could be like a major supporter of the foundation?”
He offers a hesitant smile, but his eyes betray his uncertainty. “I want to say yes, but this is bigger than me. We’ll need to discuss this with the band. Plus, I can’t ignore that Nate stillholds a grudge over the breakup of Recoil. And I don’t blame him. What’s your motive here, Lunar?”
I take a deep breath and explain. “Absolutely, that makes sense. Forming a foundation could be a way to employment. Of course, the primary proceeds would support the foundation’s cause, but I could manage it. The money would help me to step away from the club. It’s about thinking outside the box… I want to do something good, but also, by doing good, help myself.”
“Well, yeah, I get it. Believe me, I am supportive and know you will be fantastic, but I’m also about making sure the band is on board and happy with the decision. I’m past the days of going solo on decisions like I once would have. They gotta feel like they’re a part of every decision made. So, after talking with the guys and if they approve, the next step will be to make a solid business plan that we will unanimously decide on.”
“Understood. Completely. So I need to talk with the band first? Draw up a business plan with Techie’s help. And if everyone is on board, we can go from there?”
Danger nods. “Sounds good. I’m behind you. The plan should state that the main focus is raising funds for autism, but the undertone should be that it’s good for the band. Show the boys how it can benefit them and why they should do it.”
“Right. Got it! Thanks. I think it would be better if Techie and I went it alone. Present the business plan in a way that the guys can’t say no. And above all, being mindful not to impact or strain your relationship with the guys.”
“Yes, I agree.” Danger smiles. “Go get ’em, gorgeous.”
After mind-blowing shower sex and eating a hot, fatty breakfast to counteract the effects of last night’s overindulgence, I head back to the clubhouse.
There’s a strange vibe in the air when I walk into the clubroom just before lunch. Everyone is quiet, subdued, and nothing like the normal buzz that accompanies New Year’sDay. Sure, they’re all hungover, but usually, there’d be a party atmosphere, the sounds of loud music, and a cook-up happening outside.
But there is nothing.
You could hear a pin drop.
And it’s unsettling.
I look to the bar for clues and notice Techie. He nods in acknowledgment as I approach.
“What’s going on? Why is everyone… so mopey?”
Right at that precise moment, Steel storms into the room, his boots stomping on the concrete floor. He steps behind the bar, grabs the closest bottle, pushes over a stool, and heads back to his bedroom. We hear the loud bang of his door closing, followed by a string of cussing, glass breaking, and something heavy being tossed at the wall.
I turn to Techie, my eyebrow raised in question. He exhales. “Willow left Steel last night,” he mumbles.
My expression darkens, and I furrow my brows. “What?Why?”
“Club stuff. You know I can’t say.”
