“He is,” the prospect agreed. “A real asshole.”
It was a word for word recital of the quotation I’d already received right after buying the bar. Even if Panzer gave me a good deal, I couldn’t afford it. If business stayed the way it was, I might be able to consider doing something in a few months.
“Let me know what it’s going to cost,” I said. “But it’s going to be a while before I can afford it.”
Panzer looked at the two men, and then at me. “We’ll take care of it.”
I’d wanted to own a bar for as long as I could remember. When I painted a mental picture of the establishment, it had an eclectic menu of my personal offerings—recipes I’d perfected over the years and hoped everyone would enjoy—with a daily off-menu special posted on a chalk board. I had the bar. The kitchen, however, was still a dream. It would likely remain one for some time.
“I don’t doubt that you can do it,” I said. “I’m saying I can’t afford it right now.”
“I said ‘we’ll take care of it’,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Pike said he can get the exhaust fan, and have his brother-in-law make the ductwork. Prospect can get the saw and cut the concrete. I’ll do the electrical, and Swag can do the plumbing.” He dusted off his hands. “Problem solved.”
Their generosity caused a lump to rise in my throat. “I might not be able to pay you for several months,” I said. “Several being six or eight, maybe more. Maybe we should wait until I can afford it.”
“Only payment needed is a good burger,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I blurted
“I said, ‘don’t worry about it.” He patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll get started tomorrow, if that’ll work for you. I’m hungrier than ten kinds of fuck, and those eggs are giving me gas like a motherfucker.”
“Tomorrow is uhhm. Tomorrow’s fine,” I said, hoping they didn’t notice my voice quaking from the emotion I felt. “Thank you.”
The four men walked out of the kitchen, talking amongst themselves about something totally unrelated to the repairs they were going to make. They didn’t want praised or thanked beyond what I’d attempted to do.
They only wanted to be able to patronize a bar that offered a good hamburger.
I glanced around the kitchen. It was clean and suitable for what I wanted but needed some repairs to be operational. When the work was completed, I’d blow their socks off with a burger they’d be sure to love.
Wearing an ear-to-ear grin, I turned around. Through the kitchen door window, I could see Brisco leaning against the bar. He was looking from side to side like he was lost.
“I’m right here.” I pushed the door open and stepped through it. “Coming your way.”
He clamped his hand around his throat. “I’m dying of thirst,” he said, sounding as if he’d spent a weekend in the desert without a drink. “Can we get another bucket?”
“I just took you one.”
He grinned a cheesy smile. “That was ten minutes ago.”
I grabbed a fresh bucket, shoved six bottles of Bud inside, and filled it with ice. I started to set it on top of the bar, and then paused. “I’ve got a question.”
“Don’t know if I’ll have the answer,” he said. “But I’ll give ‘er a hell of a whirl.”
Through all the emotions that came with having no business and then to having a bar filled with bikers every night, I’d forgotten to ask if anyone knew about McKenzie’s boyfriend. Now that I had a moment in private with Brisco, I decided to ask. If anyone would be honest with me about the man’s relationship status, it would probably be him.
“Do you know anything about a guy named…” I paused and looked away, making sure I got it right. “Holderman? Robert Holderman?”
He stared at me like I’d asked him if he had a spare tampon.
The name didn’t seem right when it rolled off my tongue, and I wondered if I’d butchered it to the point that Brisco had no idea who I was talking about.
“Randall!” I blurted. “Sorry. Randall Holderman. Do you know anything about him? Anything you’re willing to tell me? I know a girl who said he’s kind of disappeared on her.”
His dark summer tan immediately washed to stark white. Looking just like he’d seen a ghost, he stared blankly at me while he tried to regain his composure. The look on his face was so eerily out of place, it seemed time stood still long enough for a few moments to tick away.
He swallowed heavily. “No,” he said. “Never heard of him. Why?”
The look on his face said otherwise. I’d obviously hit a nerve that made him extremely uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention.
“Forget it,” I said. “I was just asking for a friend. It’s no big deal.”
His gaze hung on me for a moment before he turned away. After he took a few steps, I cleared my throat. “Hey, Brisco.” I lifted his bucket of beer. “You forgot these.”
“Sell ‘em to someone else,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’m gonna head out.”
I had no idea who Randall Holderman was or why Brisco was hesitant to tell me the truth, but I intended to find out. In doing so, it was clear I needed to do one thing, and do it well.
I’d have to fly under the Hard Eight’s radar.
12
Price
If something happened between the Hells Angels and the Hard Eights there would be no time for the Bandidos—a known Hells Angel rival—to arrive and “save the day” for the Hard Eights.
News of the Bandidos supporting the Hard Eights, however, would reach the Hells Angels within days. Information—the good and the bad—traveled through the world of one-percenter motorcycle clubs like gossip through a high school. Hopefully, knowledge of the ‘Eights and Bandidos being allies would squelch any ideas the Angels had of intervening with our club.
Furthermore, the Bandidos accepting us as an ally would be a huge factor in our club’s future growth. The Bandidos were thousands strong and spread throughout 33 countries. Their presence was feared by anyone with an ounce of common sense. Knowing the Bandidos would raise their clenched fists in a time of trouble would provide any future Hard Eights prospect with a sense of comfort.
I rode directly to the bar from the airport. Although it was late, the parking lot was still peppered with Harley-Davidson’s finest creations. I was surprised to see Carp and Brisco’s bikes missing.
I pushed open the bar’s door and peered inside. I was immediately met by the sound of Mountain’s Mississippi Queen and twenty sets of curious eyes.
Instead of being asked—and answering—the same question twenty times, I gave a “thumbs up” as I entered. Brisk nods, the raising of beer glasses, and a handful of grins confirmed the men’s support of the collaboration between the two outlaw clubs.
Gray was standing beside Panzer’s table, having a conversation with him and his prospect. Wearing her usual outfit of jean shorts and a tee shirt, she seemed content with the conversation they were having. I sauntered toward them, studying Gray’s athletic legs the entire way.
When Panzer finished speaking, Gray glanced up. We made eye contact, sharing a look that lasted a nice long while. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, but it was her willingness to express her opinion that made her irresistible.
I’d met hordes of women over the years, all of whom were afraid to express who they truly were. Responses of I don’t know or I don’t care were as common as the club-related questions they all seemed to expect me to answer. In the end, I was left feeling I was sharing my time with someone who was unwilling to be truthful. If a woman couldn’t be honest about who she was, how could she be honest with me about anything else?
I stepped to Gray’s side. “Can I get a bottle of Bud?”
“Follow me.” She said, giving me a quick look before she turned around. “I need to ask you something, anyway.”
She ducked behind the bar and got a bottle of beer out of the cooler. She to
ssed the lid aside and handed it to me. “Do you want to fuck me?”
If she was nothing else, she was blunt. I laughed to myself at the question. “If I wanted to fuck you, you’d know it.”
Her brows raised. “How’s that?”
“Because you’d be full of my dick.”
“I keep forgetting,” she said, twisting her hips in mock innocence. “If you wanted this pussy, you’d just take it.”
I took a drink of my beer. “That’s right.”
She pressed the tips of her fingers against her cheek and batted her eyes. “You’re so charming.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“I can tell.”
“Your ass looks killer in those shorts.” I nodded toward her perfect little ass. “How’s that for charming?”
She shrugged. “Not bad.”
I gave her a quick once-over. I wasn’t much of a lip guy, but hers were full and amazingly sexy. “Your lips are perfect for sucking cock, too.”
“Holy shit,” she said. “You are a charmer.”
“It comes naturally.” I took another drink. “What was your question?”
“I already asked it.”
“If I wanted to fuck you?” I chuckled a dry laugh. “That was it?”
“It was.”
I finished the beer and handed her the empty bottle. “I’ve been thinking about that tight little pussy of yours since the other day.” I leaned against the edge of the bar. “I don’t know exactly what you’re asking or how you expect me to answer, but I’m planning on fucking you again, yes.”
She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Thank God,” she said in a sarcastic tone.
It was apparent I wasn’t answering the question in the way she wanted me to. I gestured toward the beer cooler. “Can I get another?”
She turned toward the beer cooler. A long sigh of frustration escaped her.
“What are you trying to ask me?” I asked.
After a long pause at the cooler, she looked at me. “I don’t know. I was going to try and trick you into something. It’s not working.”
I didn’t want tricked, duped, or coerced. “You want to know what I like about you the most?”
Seeming pleased that I’d asked, she smiled. “Sure.”
“You don’t pull any punches.”
She gave me a funny look. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“You’ve never heard that phrase?”
“I have, but I want to know what you’re meaning.”
“I never wonder what you’re thinking because you always say whatever it is you have to say, regardless of what outcome you think might come from it.” I took a drink of my beer to give a moment to let my point sink in. “What’s keeping you from it tonight?” I asked.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms in a huff. “I want to fuck. For the sake of clarification, I want to fuck you.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.” She looked me over. “For now, anyway.”
I glanced at the clock. “What time does this place close?”
“I can serve beer until 2:00, and it has to be consumed by 2:30. Why?”
It was 12:01. It would probably be the longest two and a half hours of my life. “At 2:31, we’re going to be fucking,” I said. “Not a minute later.”
“So, we’ve got a date?”
I’d never been on a date in my life. We were having sex in a bar. She could call it whatever she wanted to. Scratching an itch would be more accurate.
I shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
She walked around the edge of the bar. “I’m going to call it a date,” she said in passing. “You can tell your friends you “took this pussy” if it makes you feel like a badass.”
She spent the next few minutes gathering empty beer bottles from the men’s tables and exchanging them for full ones. On every occasion, she took time to say something, smile, or laugh at what one of the guys said to her.
She was damn good at what she did, and it was obvious she enjoyed it. While I watched her parade around in her cut-offs, Panzer sauntered to the bar.
“Guessing it went well?” he asked.
I continued to follow Gray with my eyes. “It did.”
“Don’t want to talk about it?”
“I planned on coming in here, having a few beers, and never mentioning it,” I said, shifting my eyes from her to him. “Like I said, there’s nothing to talk about.”
He chuckled. “More interested in looking at that bartender’s ass, huh?”
Gray was at the far side of the bar. It appeared she was telling one hell of a story. Her hands covered her ears and she was nodding her head so ferociously that it was throwing her hair two feet in the air. Gunny, Travis and Wood were laughing so hard they were in tears.
“Like I said.” I looked right at him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He stared, waiting for me to say something.
“If you would have been listening instead of bumping your gums to your prospect, you’d know that I said I didn’t want to discuss our position with the Hells Angels or the meeting with the Bandidos in public.”
“This ain’t public.”
I looked at him like he was an idiot. “This is a private bar?”
He glanced over each shoulder. “Pretty much.”
Gray was thirty feet from me. There was no chance she’d hear me, but it was the principal of the matter that irritated me. I knew Panzer wouldn’t give up, so instead playing the game, I gave him a breathless rundown of the trip.
“Meeting went well, Panzer,” I said. “We’ve got the support of the Bandidos, and they’ve got ours. I had some good barbeque at a little hole in the wall, ate a damned fine burger at one of the Bandidos Ol’ Lady’s place, and I got to sit by the aisle on the plane, both ways. Lackey got pulled over by TSA in the airport for having a handful of protein bars in his carry-on. Apparently when they go through the x-ray, they look just like plastic explosives. Flight was uneventful. Once we got there, we rented a Jeep. Took the top off and left it at the rental place so I didn’t feel like I was being suffocated. Ate two packs of those weird little biscuits on the way home. Landed. Came straight here.” I drank what remained of my beer. “That’s pretty much it.”
“See,” he said with a false smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“It’s the principal of the matter,” I said. “You know it.”
“Just wanted to make sure it went well.”
“Went fine. It’s a two-way street, though.”
“Any time you need me to stand up, just give me the word,” he said. “You know I’ll do it.”
“I know you will.”
He nodded his head toward the bar behind me. “Took a look at Ol’ Girl’s kitchen. Needs a little work to be operational. Pike, Swag, the prospect, and me are gonna get it done over the next week or so. Told her we’ll start on it tomorrow.”
Gray had moved away from Gunny’s table and was clearing an empty table by the jukebox. After placing the trash in a galvanized beer bucket, she turned toward the jukebox and began scouring through the song selections.
“Wonder if she can cook?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.
“Don’t know,” he replied. “Bitch can run a bar. That’s for sure.”
“Let me know if you need anything to get it going,” I said. “Whatever it costs, let Lackey know. We’ll take care of it. Least we can do, considering she’s letting us take this place over.”
“Wasn’t going to charge her, anyway,” he said. “I just wanted to be able to get a burger. Fucking eggs give me gas like a motherfucker.”
Humble Pie’s 30 Days in the Hole blared from the jukebox. Gray turned around, wearing an ear-to-ear grin.
The song was not only one of my all-time favorites, but it was one of many records I had retained from my father’s collection. I cherished the album and held the song close to my heart for many reasons.
“A
ppreciate your help on getting the kitchen going,” I said, nodding my head toward Gray as I spoke. “Mind giving me a minute with her?”
“No problem.”
As Panzer walked away, Gray approached with a bucket of trash in each hand. I spun my barstool in her direction as she strolled past. “Sounds like Panzer and a few of the fellas are going to get the kitchen going.”
Her face lit up. “Oh my God. I was going to say something, but we started talking about sex and I forgot.” She dumped the trash and threw the buckets in the sink. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. That is so far beyond awesome. You have no idea how big of a deal that is for me.”
“Most of the bars we hang out in have food,” I said. “So that’s what they’re all used to.”
“Believe me, that’s what I’ve been wanting to do since I bought this place. I couldn’t afford it. Heck, paying my rent has been hit and miss. Until now.”
I slid my empty beer bottle across the bar. “Glad we could be of assistance.”
Can’t You See, by the Marshall Tucker Band began to play. The song was a southern rock ballad about a man who needed to escape life’s clutches after losing a woman he’d fallen in love with. Although it was a song I generally enjoyed, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Not in Gray’s presence, anyway. Even so, I was fascinated that our musical tastes aligned.
“Did your jukebox come with all those records?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said with a smile. “I bought each one of them, individually. Printed all the little cards, too. Took me months to find them all.”
I looked at her with slight disbelief in my eyes. “Why’s a girl your age listening to 1960’s and early 1970’s rock music?”
She nodded toward my foot. “Why’s a guy your age tapping his foot and bobbing his head to the same music?”
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