One of the club women—Sydney—came over, draping an arm over Crank’s shoulders. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close, and she laughed and ran a hand up his chest. Her shorts were barely shorts at all and were more just a scrap of material, and the old Guns N’ Roses T-shirt that she wore hung from her shoulder loosely.
He’d been fucking Sydney on and off since we’d been there, which was unusual for Crank. Since the whole Hope and Maria mess years ago, he hadn’t gotten close to any woman. We’d hit the road and he’d gone sober, streamlining all his guilt into working, riding, and fixing up his bike. He’d had women over the years—some club bitches, other women that would have happily stayed in his bed and become his old lady if he’d asked them to—but he’d never let himself get close. To see him taking up with a woman more than once was a surprise, but to see him taking up with her more than twice was a goddamned miracle if you asked me.
“I gotta go take care of my business,” Crank said, shaking hands with Buddy before pulling Sydney away with him. “But I’m good being free to the road for now, brother, but thanks for the offer.” He grabbed Sydney around the waist, lifting her up, and she obediently wrapped her legs around him and giggled.
I turned back to Buddy, who was still watching them.
“She’s good for him,” he said with a jerk of his head. “Real good.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. It was true. It was the third time we’d stopped by that club to help out over the years, and it was the first time that Crank had really smiled. Brother was normally all business, but for the past couple a weeks he’d been less business and more pleasure. “Shame it won’t last though,” I added on.
“It could. Little nudge from you and he’d stick around.”
I looked over at him, the implications of what he was saying to me visible. It was true; I probably could convince Crank to stick around. Probably long enough for him to see Sydney as more than a quick fuck too. But I’d seen what sweetbutts were like first-hand and I knew that the jealousy would more than likely creep in eventually and fuck his head up, driving them apart. And that was all Sydney was: a sweetbutt. Someone for the brothers to fuck whenever and however they wanted to.
Sweetbutts could never be old ladies.
I’d learned that the hard way.
I looked away from Buddy and finished my beer. I patted him on the shoulder and walked away. No point arguing about this again. We’d already been through it a couple of times; it was one of the reasons Crank and I had been ready to move on. This club was small, much smaller than most, and they desperately needed new members. But Crank and I were happy as we were, free to the road.
Unfortunately, Vin and Buddy didn’t see it that way. They’d been working on us laying roots with them since this all began. Couldn’t seem to take no for an answer. If it wasn’t for the money being so good, and loyalty to the club, we would have moved on already. As it was, we had one last run to do before we could move on.
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Buddy laughed behind me.
“Can’t blame a man for wanting the open road either,” I returned.
~ 2 ~
We were heading out in the morning, so the night was ours to do as we pleased. Crank had come back from fucking Sydney, ready to head out to a local bar the club frequented. We’d driven there, eight bikers deep, winding along the dusty roads as the sun set over the tops of the ramshackle houses.
We pulled into the Motor Lounge a little after eight, parking our bikes out front and lining them up like we owned the place. I guess we practically did. The Highwaymen ruled this town. Most people loved us, and those that didn’t love us feared us, which was as good as loving us in my book.
I swung my leg over my bike and pulled off my helmet following Skate and the others inside. The bar had seemed quiet from the outside, but inside it was noisy and the line for the bar was long. Everyone, barring me, went and sat down, easily filling two booths, while I headed to the payphone at the end of the bar and dialed Bull’s number. He picked up on the second ring, grunting a hello.
“Hey, Bull.”
“Sketch, how’s it going?” as usual, he sounded pleased to hear from me. Bull and I went way back, and though I had gone nomad with Crank that didn’t stop the history between us continuing to grow.
“I’m good. How’s the club doing? Heard there was trouble last week.”
Bull chuckled darkly. “Nothing your brothers couldn’t handle. How’s Crank?”
“He’s good.”
“Met anyone yet?”
“He’s been seeing a sweetbutt for a couple of months, but you know him—it ain’t ever gonna’ be serious,” I said, turning to look in the direction of the booth where Crank was sat. “How’s my studio? Still there?”
When I’d left my club, I’d left the studio that Bull had had built for me. He’d been pissed off since the club had sunk some money into it, but he understood my need to get out after what had happened with Kelly. Woman had broken my heart. Besides, Bull had a soft spot for Crank and hadn’t wanted him to be out here on his own, so he’d let me go without argument, happy knowing that Crank and I would have each others backs.
“Still here, gathering dust. We had a prospect look into training up at one point, but the little asswipe pissed himself when it came down to clearing dead bodies, so he didn’t make the cut. Shame, it’s a real nice studio.”
“Damn right it is,” it was my turn to chuckle now, “I’ll be back for it one day.”
I went silent while I waited for him to tell me what I was calling about, and thankfully he cut the chit chat and got right to it.
“The kids doin’ good. Parents moved to a bigger house and she’s started some kindergarten. Got a woman on the inside that says the kid is happy and healthy, but you know the drill—we’ll keep our eyes on her.”
