“No. Get her home safe. I plan on contacting her soon.” I disconnect and tuck my phone in my vest pocket.
An hour later, I arrive back at the MC compound behind Iron Mechanical. Surrounded by a seven-foot fence, the area includes the clubhouse, a big yard, my grandfather’s old house where I live, a bunk house, and a three-car garage. I park my bike in front of the clubhouse, then head inside. Several of the old ladies are busy in the cafeteria-style kitchen making a late lunch.
I greet them with a smile and hugs. “Lori. Janice. Mercedes. Belle. What’s on the menu this afternoon?” I snatch a cherry tomato from the salad bowl and pop it in my mouth.
Belle slaps my hand like a mother would. “Did you wash those grubby things yet?”
I chuckle and examine my hands before showing them to the older woman. “Look clean enough to me.”
She rolls her eyes. “See that black stuff under your nails? That’s dirt.”
“No,” I disagree. “That’s oil.”
“Gross.” Mercedes scrunches her face as she looks over Belle’s shoulder at me.
“Paranoid, aren’t you?” I tease Belle. She’s the vice president’s wife and in charge of the old ladies and passarounds who hang out at the clubhouse.
“You try living with a man in a cast for eight weeks who informs you he hasn’t washed his hands.” Belle looks completely disgusted.
“Not even his wiping hand?”
“Don’t get me started on that conversation, Eagle. The man is disgusting. Trust me. After that cast came off I took a wire brush and half a bottle of dish soap to his ass.”
“And invited me over to help spray the house down with Lysol,” Mercedes adds as she walks across the kitchen with a pan loaded with hamburger buns. She stuffs them in the oven and turns toward me again.
I laugh so hard it hurts. “What would we do without you ladies?”
“Masturbate?” Lori chimes in. She waddles over, least seven months pregnant.
“Is that what Charlie has been doing?” I ask.
Belle signals for a time out. “TMI,” she says. “I don’t want to know how Charlie gets his rocks off.”
“With all the kids you ladies are popping out, pretty sure I can guess.”
“Speaking of which . . .” Belle never misses a chance to harass me about my marital status. “When are you going to give us the next Iron Norsemen prez?”
I clear my throat. The idea of becoming a father makes me nervous. Always has. But not as much as having to face the reality that in order to have a child, I need to pick an old lady. “When I’m ready.” It’s the perfect excuse to leave the kitchen.
Before I clear the dining room, I hear Belle yell out, “Heard you were pretty tight with a girl at the bachelor party!”
Goddamn it, Tonsils.The man tells Belle everything—except club business.
Several brothers are playing pool in the living area, hovering close to be the first in line for lunch. I stop and shake hands with them.
“Anything happening?” I ask.
“We need your approval on a special order from the Lake Charles PD,” Snake says.
“Why are they sending their vehicles to us?”
“Five squad cars were vandalized last week. The usual body shop they deal with can’t get the job done until next month.”
I rub my chin. We’re on decent terms with most of the police around southern Louisiana. The Iron Norsemen don’t cause unnecessary problems. In fact, we’re an integral part of the community. We cleaned up half the town and volunteered for the beach restoration projects after Katrina. The population is around five thousand permanent residents. During the winter, that number jumps to six thousand with all the snowbirds parking their RVs on the beach and in our parks.
“I can’t say no. Schedule them for tomorrow. Everything else gets pushed back. Let’s cycle these vehicles through as quickly as possible.” The last time the Lake Charles PD came here, they were armed with a search warrant for the clubhouse, compliments of an anonymous call by the Dead Dogs claiming we were a crack house.
The lunch bell rings, and I follow my brothers to the dining room where the ladies have laid out a spread of hamburgers, chili, chips, and salad. I sit at the head of one of the three stainless steel picnic tables we made in the shop. Everyone waits for me to serve myself first, then the room jumps to life.
I watch as Tonsils and Belle interact, laughing and enjoying private conversation. I miss that the most about everyday life. Having a good woman to come home to. Someone to trust and laugh with. Someone to make love to at night. Someone to wrap their arms around my waist when I’m flying down the highway on a club run.
One name comes to mind: Serafina. Maybe it’s time to emerge from my emotional hibernation and take a chance. It’s too early to say where it could go, but I can’t get her out of my head. And that’s a tight space at the moment, because Angel has lived there for a long time.
Now if I can just get Serafina to open up a little and trust me enough to spend some time together.
