Slide: Rugged Skulls MC

by Amy Davies

  “Not much to say about me personally. I love the beach, I love art, crafting more so. You know, just pottering around. As you can see, I dress like a hippy, or a gypsy; that’s my style and I won’t change it for anyone. It’s who I am,” I tell him.

  “I would never change who you are, babe. Fuck, look at me. I’m a sexy as fuck biker with a dirty mouth who’s loaded but would rather work for his money. Most people only see the cut and make their own mind up, babe. So, you be whoever the fuck you want to be. No judgment from me.”

  “What if I said I was a single mom?”

  His eyes widen, and I wait for the dismissal or the freak out. It’s usually one of those reactions I get—or dickheads who want to ship my daughter off.

  He assesses me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying or not. I sigh and pull out my phone, opening the gallery, then show him a photo of Posey and me at the beach. Our blond hair is bright, the sun bouncing off it. Big goofy smiles; mine clean but Posey has ice cream around her mouth.

  Handing him the phone, I sit back and wait for his next words. He flicks through the images, his face giving nothing away, until he stops and looks up at me with a smirk. He drops his gaze back to the phone before he uses two fingers to zoom in, and my stomach tightens because I think I know what image he’s looking at.

  It was taken when I went shopping in LA last summer with some friends while Posey was with her dad for a week. We shopped, went to clubs, and lazed around on the beach. The image Slide is paying a vast amount of time on is me in the dressing room, trying on some lingerie.

  I’m wearing a black triangle lace bra with lace panties that have an extra strap that goes high on the hip. My hair is down, wavy, and looking sun-kissed.

  Slide brings his gaze back to me, his sexy grin firmly in place. Then he quickly drops his gaze and hits a few buttons. His phone dings from his pocket.

  “Did you just forward that image to your cell?” I ask, slightly shocked but kinda of turned on because I know he’ll use that image to get off later. That thought alone stops me from making a bigger fuss out of this.

  “Spank bank material, babe. Holy shit, you’re some sexy woman.”

  I blush, and he finds this amusing, because he reaches across the table and touches my cheek, a smile in place that would make any woman’s knees buckle.

  “I want to see how far that goes down one day very fucking soon, but back to matters at hand. You have one very cute kid. Am I shocked that you have a kid? Yes, not going to lie. Does it bother me that you have a kid? Hell fucking no. Parents need to get laid and loved, babe.”

  I smile at him, thankful that he doesn’t see Posey as an obstacle like others have.

  We have a few more drinks, mine always alcohol free as I have to drive home. Slide has one more beer before he switches to Pepsi.

  Conversation with Slide flows like we’ve known each other for years, not just seen each other in passing before today.

  That’s why I agree to a date with him on Friday.

  Seven

  Slide

  I woke up this morning with an extra bounce in my step and my dick eagerly waiting to see Farrah again and maybe get up close and personal with pussy. I jerked off after my shower last night by just looking at the photo of her that I forwarded to my phone, something I haven’t done since I was thirteen years old.

  The boys noticed and took the piss, but I just flipped them off because nothing will ruin today, hell fucking no. I get to do nothing, then I have to go and get ready before I ride over to Farrah’s house and take that sexy female out for a drink and maybe some food. Depending how well my dick behaves, we might just skip the food.

  I even have my clothes ready and hanging in my room—look at me, being all adult-like and shit. My parents would be proud. We were brought up with a maid and chefs, but my parents always took the time out of their busy lives to spend time with Cory and me. We may have come from money, but we had to work for it.

  “What’s got you all smiley and shit today?” Rookie says, taking the seat on the bench next to me.

  Rookie is the one I’m closest to in the club. Most of the brothers served together, then we came along after and just clicked. He’s my best friend—if we want to look at it in the girly sense.

  “I have a date tonight.” I smile at him. He chuckles and takes drink from his coffee mug.

  “You on a date. Are you planning your hook ups now, brother?”

  “Nah, it’s with Farrah, Kenny’s granddaughter over at Coffee Cove. Fuck man, no woman has had my body reacting like this before. She kissed me and it was like my cock was ready to bend over, kiss her feet and lay his life on the line for her.”

  Rookie laughs, almost spitting his coffee out. I chuckle and watch as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He places the mug down on the table in front of us before he sits back and eyes me suspiciously.

  “Not seen her, but, brother, Kenny is a tough old bastard and could castrate you in a heartbeat if you mess with her.” I nod in agreement.

  “I know. He gave me the warning before I asked her out. I took her for a drink two days ago when I went over there to talk to him about Quince’s nephew. You should have seen her, brother. Hot doesn’t cover what she is. Long blond, wavy hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a body to fucking die for.”

  “Just your type then. Does she cream too?” he asks, grinning cheekily at me. All the boys know I love a pussy that creams, but fuck, any pussy is good to me as long as it looks, smells and tastes nice. I ain’t down for fishy pussy.

  “Never got that far, Rook. We kissed, that’s it. I have kissed a ton of women, but Farrah’s mouth was perfect.” I swear I’m fucking swooning just thinking about her mouth.

  “Did you just swoon?” Rookie asks, laughing at me.

  “Man, if a woman ever kissed you like Farrah kissed me, your Irish ass would swoon too. I can only hope and fucking pray that her pussy makes me swoon too.” I wink, and he chuckles with me.

  “You’re a weird fucker, Slide.” Rookie laughs. “So where are you taking her?”

  Now I laugh again, shaking my head. “No fucking clue. She’s a cool chick though, so I don’t think it will be anything fancy, ya know. Farrah’s a beach babe, hippie type but with a good head on her shoulders, and do you want to know what the kicker is?” I ask him.

  “She sounds like a beauty, brother. Go on then.” He chuckles at the last part.

  I wiggle my eyebrows at him, prolonging the little detail.

  “Come on, ya dick. Does she have a dick or a third tit or something?” he jokes, and I burst out laughing.

  “No, you prick. She has a kid. She’s five.”

  “Holy fuck. Are you serious?” I nod. “Well, at least you’ll understand the child better than most men with your five-year-old mentality,” Rookie jokes.

  I nod, smiling at him. “Yeah, true.”

  “So again, where are ya taking her?”

  “I was thinking—”

  “CHURCH,” Magnum bellows, as he walks into the clubhouse with Opal and Slade right behind him. Both Rookie and I jump to our feet and follow them into the room where we hold our club meetings here at the Tower. Sarge is the last in, and he shuts the door behind him and takes his seat.

  “Okay, let’s get this shit said and get moving. Sid contacted us to tell us his shipment didn’t arrive. He sent men out and they found the truck empty. Edge and the prospect were out cold when Sid got there.”

  “Which prospect?” I ask.

  The three prospects, Abe, Ferris, and Joel are patch worthy when their time comes.

  “Joel. His family will be contacted by Opal. Did any of you know he has a girl and a kid?” Magnum explains.

  A collective sound of confusion fills the room. How the hell did he keep that a secret from us? More to the point, why?

  “We’re riding out there now to see what the fuck happened. Slide, Rookie, I want you to go to the hospital and sit with Edge and check on Joel, see if you can get
any information out of them and relay it back to me,” Prez states, and I nod.

  Magnum bangs the gavel down and we all leave the room. Rookie is right by my side as we reach our bikes.

  “Brothers, make sure they’re good, anything they need. Tell Edge that Risky has Drix, so he needs to rest and not worry. No one stands alone,” Magnum says, and walks over to his own bike as I straddle mine and start her up.

  “The two prospects are coming with us to stand by the doors, on guard,” Rookie adds, and I nod.

  I go to pull my phone out of my pocket to send Farrah a text to explain, but Rookie calls to me and revs his bike. Shaking off thoughts of her right now, I think of how Edge is doing.

  We ride over to the hospital and make our way up to the ward where they’re keeping Edge. Rookie flirts with a nurse while I pull my phone out of my pocket to send a text, but again I get interrupted.

  “Room two-zero-eighteen for Edge. The prospect is four doors down,” Rookie says, and we walk down the hall to find Joel’s room first. We check in with him and see that he’s sleeping, so we let him be.

  “Ferris, stay,” I say, before heading four doors down.

  Rookie walks in first and heads over to one side of the bed.

  “You look like shit, brother,” I tell him, smiling as I sit on the chair next to his bed, Rookie taking the other one.

  “Fuck off. Joel?” Edge asks, as I take in the large bandage wrapped around his head from being hit over the head with something. That’s what we’re here to find out. His hair is down around his shoulders, which fill the fucking bed he’s way too big to be in.

  I bring my gaze up to Rookie, and he looks at me with a barely-there nod.

  “Down the hall. He’ll have a cracking headache when he wakes up, but he’ll live,” I explain.

  “Thank fuck,” Edge mutters, rubbing his hands over his face. “Why not kill me? They had their chance,” he spits out.

  “That’s what we need to figure out. Prez and the boys have gone to Sid’s to see what they can find out on that end. We’re here to see if you can tell us anything you remember,” Rookie tells him.

  Edge lays his head back, closing his eyes. The minutes tick by, and I look over at Rookie, who stares back at me. The worried expression on his face no doubt matches mine. Edge breaks out a large sigh, drawing our attention back to him.

  “I remember driving up to the drop-off point. Sid’s men weren’t there yet, so me and Joel just chilled. Then a truck arrived, and we got out. I got smashed over the back of the head and it was lights out. All I remember of the truck is that it was gray, and I’m sure I saw something yellow on it, but fuck, I can’t think.” Edge growls out in frustration.

  “Hey, brother, chill, yeah. We’ll find out who did this. Prez will catch these fuckers,” Rookie tells him, his voice carrying an edge to it.

  “Opal is trying to contact Joel’s family. We didn’t even know he has a kid,” I speak up. Edge’s head snaps in my direction, followed by a groan of pain.

  “Easy,” Rookie states.

  “He has a kid?” Edge asks, looking as shocked as we were when we found out.

  “A two-year-old little girl. She lives with her mom.”

  “Fucker kept that quiet, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, brother,” I reply. “Never gave anything away.”

  We sit in silence, letting our thoughts sink in. I lean back in my chair and think about what’s happened. We could have lost both Edge and Joel. Things can happen in a fucking flash and half the time you won’t see that shit coming.

  When this happens, all you need is family and friends to support you through that shit. No one stands alone.

  The club can be family orientated when they want, but since some of my brothers are settling down and kids are popping up, I can see this will be the future of the Rugged Skulls.

  A doctor and a nurse come in a little while later and tend to Edge. I sit and watch as they work, making sure to pick up on information to pass onto Prez. Edge needed twelve stitches in the back of his head and has a severe concussion, as well as some bruised ribs from possibly being kicked while he was out.

  Rookie has stepped out of the room; I can see him by the door, looking down at his phone. A sinking feeling hits my stomach. I drag my phone out of my pocket and see the time: 11:10pm

  It’s too late to call or text Farrah, and I know she’ll be pissed at me. She took a chance agreeing to this date with me. She told me so and I threw it back in her face.

  Fucking hell in a hand basket.

  I drop my phone onto the side table and stand before turning to look out the window. The night sky is black with a spread of stars. Cars move along the highway next to the hospital. The parking lot is still surprisingly full for this time of night.

  Everyone is going about their lives, enjoying life, like I could be doing right now. Hanging my head, I picture Farrah smiling at me from across the table, naked preferably, but you know being naked in public is frowned upon.

  A cough startles me, and I turn around to see Rookie back in the room. I lean my ass against the windowsill, folding my arms across my chest and crossing my ankles. He sees my phone on the table, and he gives me a knowing look.

  “Did you let her know?” he asks, and I shake my head.

  “No. I’d go to, then something would come up, then I would fucking forget. She’s going to be pissed, brother.”

  “Make it up to her,” is all he says, like it’s that easy. I scoff and he cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “What the hell are you two yammering on about, and who is ‘she’?” Edge says from his bed.

  “Our boy here had a date tonight and he forgot to tell her that he had to cancel,” Rookie explains, laughing as he takes the seat next to the bed again.

  “Fuck off, dickface. You interrupted me twice and were discussing club shit because this one decided to get his noggin bashed in,” I snap.

  Sighing, I take my seat again and drop my head into my hands.

  I can just see Farrah being pissed at me, but it’s the thought of Kenny getting a hold of my balls and what he will do to them that worries me the most. He fucking warned me about her. I know it wasn’t intentional, but he’s a protector, and whatever he says will be right. I should have made it a must do and texted or called to explain.

  “Listen, brother, if anyone knows about fucking up with a woman it’s me. Give her time and then go to her with a peace offering and pray to everything that is Harley that she lets you explain.”

  “She’s Kenny’s granddaughter, man,” Rookie adds, not trying very hard to hide his joy.

  “Fucking Irish bastard.”

  “Oh, you are fucked, brother. Up shit creek without a paddle. In the doghouse,” Edge goes on.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, fuckface,” I mutter back.

  “If I know Kenny, he’s already plotting how to detach your cock from your balls and dish it up to you.”

  They both crack up, enjoying my future misery at the hands of this woman and her grandfather who was a mean bastard in the Army.

  “Fuck,” I mutter. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, thinking of ways I can make it up to her.

  Rookie and Edge sit and laugh at my demise, enjoying it way too fucking much. I flip them off, and that sets them off laughing again. This is my family: always happy to see each other fuck up when it comes to our women but are the first to help rectify the situation.

  Eight

  Farrah

  Got to love a Saturday morning lie-in. Posey stayed with Kenny last night for my date—ha, date. I didn’t see the point in him bringing her home, even though my date ditched me with no word. No doubt he found some other girl to spend the night with; being nice to my face about Posey but then as soon as he got the chance to think things through, blew me off.

  Oh well, onwards and upwards as they say. I climb out of bed and have a quick shower because I’m opening Coffee Cove today with Gavin and Tommy. The boys have clicked in some weird teenage
r way that I can’t understand, so I leave them to it. As long as Tommy is pulling his weight and not being a dick, he’ll fit in fine without too much trouble.

  I finish up in the shower and dry off, leaving my hair to air-dry so it will be bouncy with natural waves. That’s what I love about my hair, it has always been easy to manage.

  I do my make-up, adding darker eyeshadow, giving my eyes a smokey feel. When I’m happy with how I look, I get dressed in a blue and white floral maxi skirt and a loose navy cami, with my long rustic necklace that has a firefly pendant. I slip on my pretty brown sandal wedges and walk out of my room with my black purse, ready to swap over the contents from my other purse.

  I’m a lover of clothes, shoes, and purses. I am forever changing purses over to match my clothes, and unluckily for me, Posey picked up on it and has to change her little purses over to match her outfits.

  Picking up an apple and my keys, I make my way out to my car. He’s my pride and joy, my 1969 VW Beetle convertible in cream with all cream interior, thanks to Kenny.

  I open the door and climb in, dropping my purse on the passenger seat before heading to the coffee shop.

  “There you go. Enjoy,” I tell the customer, as she adds her change into the tip jar. “Thank you.” She smiles and leaves.

  “Farrah, how do you want these displayed?” Tommy enquires, as he comes behind the counter with a fresh tray of salted caramel cupcakes.

  Today is my first day with Tommy, and so far, he’s been polite and hasn’t complained about anything. He was even happy to help one old lady out to her car because she ordered over 50 pastries to be boxed up. The lovely lady gave him a twenty-dollar tip, which put him in an excellent mood.

  “You can put them next to the blueberry muffins, thank you.” I smile at him and he returns it. I step back, giving him room to slide the tray into the glass display unit at the front of the shop.

  “Anything else I can do?” Tommy asks, and I smile at his eagerness. I was worried when Kenny said we were bringing in another troubled teen, but to be honest, he’s been great. But I know they won’t all be like this.