My cheeks flush remembering how he looked at me in his shower. How husky his voice was. I slip my hand inside my shorts and touch myself out here in the dark where there’s no one to judge me. Except maybe Pancake, but she’s not paying attention to me.
I started to say no when Hot Mama first invited me to join her at the bar tonight. I worked a full shift in the kitchen today andmy hands are raw from scrubbing burned pans, but she said, “Sulk in your cabin if you want to, but you might as well do it somewhere with music and decent whiskey.” That’s her brand of therapy. Spit on it or rub some dirt on it, then drown it in liquor. I respect her roughness. Her grit and honesty. She doesn’t sugarcoat shit.
You can let life choke you, or you can punch it in the face.
I follow Hot Mama’s silhouette as she marches down the gravel path, calling over her shoulder at me, “Hurry your slow ass up or else.” She’s always threatening me with or else. I think she’d miss me if I ever called her bluff.
She acts all tough, but deep down she’s got a teeny-tiny soft spot in the center of her heart for her Queens.
Tonight the town feels different. Almost electric. Like something exciting is about to happen.
My skin prickles as we walk up to the bar. There're motorcycles parked out front, but there usually aren’t as many. Though I’m not usually here as a patron. I only ever come out if I’m picking up a shift or having a rare meal at the local diner to see Gwynee. She’s only been back a few times. Not that I’ve expected her to come calling at all.
Hot Mama disappears out of sight by the time I step over the threshold at the bar. The jukebox plays some classic rock songs I’ve heard a million times since I started working here. I walk up to the bar to order a beer, and that’s when I notice the men sitting at the bar wearing KOAMC cuts but not the local Oregon guys. These say California.
My heart leaps to my throat as I stare at them from the corner of my eye. I don’t recognize any of them. My heart stutters in relief and grief at the same time. Happy none of them are Tyrant yet depressed none of them are Lunatic.
I ignore them and grab my beer and go off looking for wherever Hot Mama ran off to. She invited me for a drink, andnow she’s nowhere to be found. Typical. I stopped trying to figure her out. There’s a method to her madness that only she understands. I make it to the pool tables and my heart leaps to my throat at the sight of him. Lunatic. He’s bent over the table, lining up a shot. A smile etched on his face, cigarette dangling between his lips. He’s tanner than I remember. His arms are thicker, covered in more dark ink.
What’s he doing here?
That crackling of electricity I felt on the way here returns tenfold as he looks up, his gaze meeting mine. He takes his shot and misses on purpose. He slaps a twenty into his partner’s hand and stalks toward me.
Chapter Thirteen
Daisy’s doe eyes meet mine. Her full cheeks bloom a soft shade of pink. Fuck, she looks good. Healthy. Healed. Has weight on her bones that fills her out in all the right places. She’s gorgeous. Dressed in a pair of wide-legged jeans that dip low and hug her hips. Her dark green crop top shows off her midriff, revealing a jeweled belly piercing. Her abs have a tone look to them. Lonerock has been good to her.
“Hey, Babygirl.” I grin at her and she takes a hard pull from her bottle of beer, her lips kissing the bottle like they did the head of my cock three months ago.
“Hey yourself. What are you doing here?”
“Prez has some business with Hot Mama, and I wanted to see you. Hear you’re leaving soon.”
She nods. “Couple of days.”
“We’ve got your apartment ready, and your job is all set up.”
Her lips tip into a nervous smile. “Sounds good.”
“Was wondering if you’d want to leave early. Ride back to Anarchy with me?”
“Um…I don’t know. I still have some loose ends to tie up here.” My face falls at her words. “But I’m sure Hot Mama is ready to be rid of me.”
I lift my head. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
“Want to get a table or take a walk?”
She glances around the crowded and loud bar. “We can take a walk.” She downs the last of her beer, setting the empty one on a nearby table. I put out my cigarette and shove a stick of gum in my mouth.
Daisy walks in front of me. Hardcore gives me a chin lift as we pass the bar.
I don’t know how long Big Daddy will be in his meeting with Hot Mama, but we’ve got some rooms at the shit hole of a motel down the street.
