“What time’s the party?” I ask, attempting to distract myself.
Hawk glances at his watch. “In about two hours. It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the clubhouse for me alone, but let’s say we need thirty with the stroller. I’m happy to watch DJ if you need to shower or get ready.”
Again with the thoughtfulness. I think I start blushing.
“Thanks. I appreciate it, but if his playpen is already upstairs, he’ll be fine playing while I’m in the shower. The two of us have our tried-and-true routine, don’t we?” I ask DJ, and he babbles in response.
“Okay, then I’ll shower as well, and we’ll head out whenever you guys are ready.”
Chapter 15
Marissa
“Is this okay?” I ask Hawk as I carry DJ towards the stroller.
I wanted to look nice but not like I was trying too hard, so I opted for my Docs and a plaid dress that (hopefully) masks my lack of a defined waist. Some mascara and lip gloss, and I think I’ve nailed it.
The hair and jewelry aspect is the only thing that gives me pause, but until my hastiness with scissors can be professionally fixed, I’m forced to wear my hair up, and until my son is old enough to know that yanking earrings can rip off Mommy’s earlobe, I’m limited to wearing studs.
Hawk’s eyes are appreciative. “You look great. Red suits you.”
“Thank you.”
Instead of basking in the warm glow of that compliment, I finish buckling my son in.
“The cake!” I exclaim and smack my forehead for good measure before running back into the house. “Why didn’t you remind me?” I scold Hawk, and he shrugs.
“Do you want me to carry the cake or push DJ?”
“Cake, please. Thanks.”
On foot, I can observe the clubhouse better. It’s painted a bright yellow color, with two sets of stairs winding around it and several small balconies.
The words “Rat Park” are rendered in bold black letters under a huge, winged, flaming skull above the main entrance.
I brace myself for the stale smell of beer and cigarette smoke, but there is none. Only the faint smell of food and lemons.
“This is the diner where you’ll be working in a few weeks.”
Calling this place a diner feels wrong. On the right, there’s a coffee bar with tall stools and a pastry display counter, similar to a fancy cafe. There is an abundance of natural light in the dining floor area, thanks to the tall windows on the left wall. The yellow chairs and the large potted lemon tree in the middle of the floor complement it perfectly.
The walls are covered with framed photographs of smiling club members at various get-togethers and rides, along with club paraphernalia and inspirational quotes such as “Ride together, thrive together.”
Hawk leads me through the diner and into a large room that houses a pool table, several gaming consoles, and four leather sofas. There’s a projector aimed at the blank wall across from them.
“This is the entertainment room, and on the right, through there, is the family room. Sometimes people bring children to events, or we organize workshops, so we have board games, books, puzzles, and other stuff like that in there.”
“Wow.” I can’t think of anything else to say.
Despite Hawk telling me about the Rat Park experiment, I expected this place to be like the Wolves’ clubhouse.
“The other half of the floor is just club offices and our meeting room.”
“Church,” I say with a smile, and he nods.
Before I can ask anything more, we’re interrupted by an upbeat female voice. “This must be Marissa.”
I glance at Hawk, and he rolls his eyes with no real malice behind the gesture.
