There's a woman's culture too. Wife, or girlfriend, of the bikers.
And I'm part of that now.
"Do you understand what I'm telling you?" Mama Jo asks.
I nod slowly. "I think so."
"Good." She stands straighter. "Now put on those boots. No one in this club walks around barefoot. Makes us look like we can't provide."
I reach down and pick up the boots Brandy left. They're well-worn but solid. Black leather with silver buckles on the sides. I slip them on, and to my surprise, they fit perfectly.
"Thank you," I say quietly, not sure if I'm thanking Mama Jo, or Brandy, or all of them.
Mama Jo just nods. "The vote's done," she says, glancing at a clock I hadn't noticed. "They'll be out soon."
My heart skips. The vote. Legion. Whether I can stay or have to leave without him.
"You're in," she says.
"How do you know?" I ask.
Something that might be a smile touches Mama Jo's lips. "Because if it went the other way, Savannah Ashby, I wouldn't be wasting my time with you."
Relief floods through me so suddenly I feel dizzy. I'm staying. I'm in.
This place is… home.
"Now," Mama Jo says, picking up the denim jacket and holding it out to me. "Put this on. When they come in, you should look like you belong."
I take the jacket, feeling its weight, the history woven into its fibers. I slip it on over Legion's t-shirt. It fits like it was made for me.
Mama Jo looks me up and down, then nods once, satisfied.
"Almost there," she says. "Almost."
