One side of Zeke’s mouth pulled up. “Still sweet and innocent like a virgin.”
Lucky hooted. “Like you’d fuckin’ admit it if it ain’t.”
“Yeah, well, some shit should go with you to the grave,” he quipped as his gaze circled the empty common area of the clubhouse.
Fuck yeah. It was damn good to be home, despite no one being there to welcome him except for Lucky. “What’re you doin’? Too early for The Iron Horse to be open.”
“Coop wanted me to do inventory and restock.”
Zeke’s brow dropped low. “That’s what fuckin’ prospects are for.”
Lucky tipped his head. “That’s what I fuckin’ said.”
“So, why the fuck ain’t they doin’ it?”
“‘Cause they’re all a buncha fuck-ups.”
“‘Course they are. That’s why they work for free. They got a year to get their asses straightened out.”
Lucky winced. “Ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t know, Prez. Still remember that first year like it was fuckin’ yesterday.”
Zeke silently agreed. That first year was rough.Even for him: a prospect expected to step into his old man’s boots once old enough.
He beelined toward the club’s private bar. It backed the commercial kitchen used for both the club and the bar. “Any sweet butts around?”
“Nope.”
Fuck.
He’d text one if he had his goddamn phone! First prospect he spotted, he was going to send him to go buy a new one. “Text Shimmer and tell her to get her ass over here within the hour. Tell her not to waste fuckin’ time on all that makeup and fake eyelashes bullshit. Just needs to make sure her cunt’s clean.”
Lucky snorted. “Then maybe you shouldn’t pick Shimmer.”
His step stuttered for a second, then he shook his head and moved behind the bar. “Just fuckin’ text her.”
“You got it, Prez.”
“That shoulda been your first fuckin’ answer.”
Lucky chuckled as his fingers quickly moved over his phone’s screen.
“Tell her I don’t give a fuck if her hair’s a rat’s nest, either. I can cover her face with a fuckin’ pillow if I gotta.” He grabbed an opened bottle of Jack Daniels and a clean glass. That was when it hit him. “My room’s still mine, right?” It better fucking be.
“Yeah. Soon as you went inside, your brother locked it up so no one could fuck with it.”
While that should be good news, right now it wasn’t. He didn’t have his fucking keys.
Goddamn it.
Someone had to have a master key. “Text him next and ask him where my fuckin’ keys are.”
“You got it.”
Damn, did it feel good to be back in charge. Unlike in the joint, where he usually tried to stay under the radar. He’d learned from the past. If he tried to make a name for himself inside, he became a target and ended up earning an extended stay.
Unfortunately, the only pussy in prison were a few female screws. If he could find a willing one that didn’t make his dick limp, he held his fucking nose to bang one out.
He poured three fingers worth of whiskey, then turned to lean back against the bar. He lifted his glass in tribute to those who came before him.
