by Ryan Michele
We have a couple of beer posters up on the wall, but not much else. The white is a bit dirty now that I look at it. We may need to repaint it at some point.
It’s not home. It’s more of a place to crash when we aren’t at the club. A home is like the place my mom and dad have, where I grew up.
Listen to me. I should smack myself in the head. Why my thoughts are going this way is up for debate.
“Bro! Heads-up!” Ryker calls out as he tosses a bag of chips my way.
I catch them with ease. Opening them up, I pop a barbecue flavored chip in my mouth.
“Wanna head out tonight?” he asks, plopping down on the couch next to me, grabbing the bag and taking some chips.
I think about Bristyl and wonder if she’s going to call. Maybe I should give her just a little more time before making any plans.
“Maybe later. I just need to chill.”
“Cool.” He shoves more chips into his mouth. “You think any more about the different businesses to approach the club with?”
Hell yes. The car wash was a good idea, but the moving parts are my hang up.
Bristyl. That’s my new idea. I’m actually stealing it from her. I began my search for information on it. It’s damn near perfect, and it will work all the way around. Storage units. It can be all cash for the most part, and we could put fencing around the place so the renters would need a security code to get onto the property. This way, it won’t have to be manned twenty-four seven, and Buzz can hook it up with security. I haven’t worked out all the details yet, but it’s definitely workable. My goal for the club is to work smarter, not harder.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to bring it up to my dad first and see what he thinks. Then go from there.” I gave Ryker, Green, and Jacks a bit of a heads-up on my thoughts, but I haven’t told them any of my plans yet. Making sure it’s feasible before giving it to the club is important to me.
“Good idea,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chips. “He’ll give it to ya straight.”
Damn right he will.
My phone begins to ring. Bristyl. She fucking called back, and the stupid-ass grin on my face cannot be stopped.
“Be back in a few.” I charge into my room and lock the door, knowing Ryker’s nosy-ass will be in here if I don’t.
11
Bristyl
Nerves hit me like a lead weight. I’m actually calling him. It seems weird that my anxiety is so high, considering we have been texting for a few days now. But with texting, I can think about what I’m saying and erase it quickly if it’s stupid. Which I took advantage of a lot in our chats.
Talking directly is a bit intimidating, knowing I’ll fuck up. That’s just me. I guess he better learn sooner rather than later that stupid shit flies out of my mouth before I can catch it pretty much eighty percent of the time.
The phone rings … and rings … and rings, and right when I think it’s going to voicemail, I hear, “Hello?” in the sexiest deep voice. It’s like velvet, soft yet, if you rub it the other way, a bit rough. The sound causes my skin to prickle in a delectable way.
“Hey,” comes out breathy, and I immediately want to smack myself.
Good job, Bristyl, going for the sexy voice. Perfect. Even clearing my throat doesn’t get rid of it.
“You wanted me to call?” See, right there, stupid. Duh, you’re talking to him on the phone, you dork!
I need my brain checked or transplanted. Probably both at this point.
He chuckles, and it warms me inside. “Yeah, texts are gettin’ a bit much. Not that I don’t like hearin’ from ya, but I’m more of a talk guy.”
“I figured that.”
“Oh, you did. Why’s that?”
My brain screams, because you seem to be an action man, and texting is more of a passive thing, but it would be stupid tossing every card I have out on the table so early.
I begin to pace, looking down and noting some of the fluff has gone out of the carpet. “I don’t know, just the way you were at the rally. You seem to be in the moment.”
His laughter comes over the line, sending goose bumps down my arms. Damn, I like that.
“Somethin’ like that.”
“Yeah, something.” I sigh heavily, feeling like an idiot. “Look, I’m not good at this.”
“What a coincidence, neither am I.”
“You’re not?” This surprises me. I mean, come on, Cooper is a hot man. He must have women all over. That thought twists my gut.
“Beautiful, I’m a biker; we don’t chat with women.”
No, they don’t. They sleep with them and then move on to the next. I saw my brothers do it when they still lived in the house.
The idea of Cooper getting serviced by another woman sends burning fire through my veins. It’s not that I don’t like it …
I hate it.
After a pause, I’m relieved when he talks. “So, today I was at the shop.”
“Banner, right?”
“You paid attention.”
Boy, have I ever. Every little tidbit of information he gives me, I suck on it, wanting to know every detail.
“I was there with Ryker today,” he continues, “and this asshole comes in, demanding to get his car fixed immediately. He was one of those suit wearin’ types who has an office job and has never gotten his hands dirty in his life. Well, this doesn’t fly well. We get into an argument, and he calls me a pussy bitch.”
I laugh. “I bet that went over well.”
“Let’s just say the asshole won’t ever come back.”
“I bet not. I’ve seen the guys you hang out with.”
“My brothers.”
“Yeah, your brothers.” My mind spins at this revelation. It’s not that I didn’t know; it just hadn’t sunk in. Cooper has brothers, just like my blood does. They see me as an outcast. The pain hits me that Cooper would think the same thing. I’m in their world, but not. I know some things, but not most. I’m an outsider looking in. Cooper is going to realize that soon enough, and our conversations are going to be over.
Dread washes over me like a cold shower.
Is this a premonition of what’s to come? Hell, I barely know the guy. I shouldn’t even care, but I do. Dammit.
“Where’d ya go?”
I snap back to the conversation. “I’m here.”
“Nah, you were far away.”
“Sorry, it was a busy day.” It’s not a lie, but it isn’t the entire truth, either.
“Tell me about it.”
“Paperwork is a huge part of my day and keeping track of all the money, dealing with complaints.” A poof of air comes up as I fall to my bed, phone attached to my ear.
“What’s a funny complaint you get?”
“The funniest was”—I start laughing, unable to hold it back—“a customer called because the washer she put her seven dildos in broke every single one of them.”
He bursts out laughing. “You’re shittin’ me?”
“Nope. She wanted us to replace all of them, saying they were hundreds of dollars. Which hell, they could’ve been, but there’s no way I’m paying to replace a woman’s vibrators because she was too stupid and put them in a washing machine. I mean, come on, they’re electronic for the most part, and you’re soaking them in water! Not only that, hello! The spin cycle. It had to have made a hell of a noise.”
“That would’ve been funnier than shit to see.”
“Oh, I bet. She was bitchin’ and yellin’ up a storm over the phone. Cussing me up and down.”
“What’d ya do?”
“Hung up on her.”
“That’s not very good customer relations.” He doesn’t have to tell me that.
“Nope, it’s not. I called her a few hours later, after she blew up my phone. Then, after I called her, I blocked her number. When we talked, I explained that she needed to look on the packaging of her equipment and see the proper cleaning instructions. Because, I know damn well it doesn’t say throw them in washing machine on
the spin cycle.” I laugh. “She told me she was going to turn us in to the Better Business Bureau. Whoopee. Can you see that complaint on the BBB website? I put my vibrators in one of their washing machines, and it broke them all. The witch on the phone said they weren’t responsible for my stupidity. Then my question is: who is? They can’t do shit about anything, anyway. Only people who want to bitch go on the site. So, whatever.”
“And you know not to throw vibrators in the washing machine?”
“Of course you don’t. It says right on the box.” There I go again, spewing at the mouth. From his laugher, he wanted to out me on my vibrator usage. Damn, I shouldn’t be insecure about it.
“Good to know,” he says, dropping it, but he already got his unspoken answers. “That’s damn funny. I’m not sure I can top that one.”
“That’s only one of them.”
“Hell, how many women use your laundromat for their dildos?” His puzzling tone tells me he is really curious.
“A lot. And condoms plugging up the toilet and adhered to the dryer drum. Caught a couple on camera going at it on one of the folding tables. I was wondering why it looked so wobbly and found out quickly why when I checked out the cameras.”
“Sounds like someone had some fun.”
“I guess. I’m just glad the cleaning service comes in and does their thing. Lord knows what I could catch. Ew …” Fuck, did I just say that? I seriously just said that … to Cooper. Fucking hell. There goes my damn mouth. Anything I say is going to make it worse. I don’t have any diseases. I mean, I haven’t touched any pussy juice. I mean, come on. Lose. Lose all the way around.
I love hearing his chuckle, though. At least someone in the world finds me funny. Even if it’s over stupid stories.
“Good to know.”
Something’s been on my mind since one of our first texts. It was about his story when we talked about my mother. I kind of feel like a douche asking, but it’s better than doing it over texting.
“Want to tell me what you meant by reminding you to tell me your story later?”
He lets out a long puff of air. “No, not really.”
I immediately feel let down. I opened up to him more than I have anyone in a long time. The fact he won’t open to me sucks.
“But I will,” he finishes, and I let out my own breath. Thank you, God. “My mom is Princess. She’s not my biological mom, though. You can’t tell anyone this. I’m trusting you with something I don’t tell people.”
Wow. That’s a huge gift he’s giving me, and I refuse to take it lightly.
“Mums the word.”
“Alright.” He blows out a gust of air, and it feels like a heavy weight the way he pauses.
My mind instantly goes to protection mode. It’s not something that can be controlled. Whatever he’s going to tell me should be done in person or something other than a phone call like this.
“Cooper,” I interrupt.
“Yeah?”
“I’m honored that you want to tell me this, but it’s heavy, and I really don’t think we should do it over the phone.” I pause, feeling like an idiot. Here is this man, about to open up to me, and I’m shutting him down. Nevertheless, I have this urge to protect him, which makes it semi-okay … I think. “It’s not that I don’t want to know, because I do. I seem to want to know everything about you, but over the phone just doesn’t feel right.”
I wish I could see him and read his body language. Is he shocked I stopped him? Is he pissed? Does he want to hang up on me and never talk to me again? Or does he respect that I’m trying to keep his secrets as private as possible?
Getting up from my bed, I pace the room and gnaw on my thumbnail when he says nothing. Just dead air over the phone. Shit, I already screwed this up. We should have kept to texting. Then I wouldn’t have inserted my foot in my mouth. Dammit.
“I respect that, Bristyl. Thank you.”
“You’re not pissed at me?”
It sounds as if he’s moving on the other end of the phone with the static, maybe getting up or walking somewhere. I’m not sure which.
“Not at all. It’s smart. I like the way you think.”
I drop to the floor, back against my bed, pulling stray hairs from my face, relief filling me. “Thanks.”
“So, tell me, Bristyl, you work at the laundromat and a storage unit. What else do you do? College? Out partying at rallies? Clubbing?”
“Clubbing? Are you serious?” Clubbing? This man … I shake my head.
“Hell if I know what you chicks do.”
Chicks. Well, at least it’s better than some of the other terms I’ve heard over the years.
“What this chick does is work. I didn’t do college. Well, I take that back. I did try out of high school, but realized quickly it wasn’t for me.”
“Why’s that? You seem like a really smart girl.”
I stare up at the ceiling. “Thanks. I did okay, but doing school on top of work just didn’t pan out well.”
“So, you hated it?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“College was never a goal for me. I was born Ravage. I’ll die Ravage. That’s always been the plan.”
That pit of unease creeps back. How soon I keep forgetting that he’s in a club and probably feels the same way my father and brothers do. I hate to even think it, but the idea of it rides me hard. Why does he have to be the one that I want to talk to.
I try to push the insecurities down.
“Your brother and sister, are they younger? I’m assuming yes because you called them kids earlier.” Way to change the subject, Bristyl.
“Yep. They’re fourteen.”
“Do you get along with them?”
“For the most part. There’s such a huge age gap that it’s different. It’s like, maybe I’m their cousin or something instead of their brother. But we roll with it.”
Our conversation lasts throughout the night, and I fall asleep, still clutching my phone and onto a small bit of hope. Hope that maybe Cooper is different.
12
Cooper
“What the fuck are you doin’ in your room every night? You’ve bailed on us,” Ryker accuses from the passenger seat of the small box truck. We just dropped off a shipment to a client and are on our way back to Ravage.
“Yeah, you wackin’ off in there? Because, you’re not tappin’ anything at the club,” Jacks joins in, and he’s not wrong.
Something’s fucking with my head. No, not something—someone. But I can’t seem to stop myself. I look forward to talking to her. It lightens my day and makes anything that’s annoying or frustrating disappear. I can talk to her about anything. Feel like shit, then talk to her, and bam, feel good.
“I’ve got shit to do.” Keeping my eyes focused on the road, I’m not sure why I don’t want to tell them about Bristyl. Maybe it has something to do with having one thing that’s solely mine. It’s not like she’s a forbidden secret or any of that shit. Talking with Bristyl is just different, and I don’t know how to explain it to them. They wouldn’t get it. At least, I don’t think they would.
“Coop, seriously, it’s been over a week,” Green adds his two cents.
“Have I neglected any of my club responsibilities?” I charge back, feeling fire in my veins. They say nothing, because I haven’t. “Anything at the shop or X I haven’t done?” Again nothing. I may be talking to Bristyl, but that doesn’t mean I fell down on my job in any way, shape, or form.
“Brother, it’s just not you, and we want to know if we can help,” Green says, concern in his tone.
“There’s nothin’ wrong. I appreciate it, but it’s all good.” I’m not changing what I’m doing. I’m a grown-ass man, and if I want to talk to a woman on the phone and get a few laughs, then I will. What would be better is if I could see her.
Later that night, I call. She answers on the second ring.
“You’re early.” That damn purr to her voice, and I know she’s not even trying. It’s
all the damn time. Everything she says has it. Hell, she could be talking about something serious or her family and it’s there. Makes me so damn rock hard.
“I’ve got an idea. Saturday, want to meet me in Marianna? That’s about an hour drive for you. I’ll find a place for us to eat and see each other.” Once the thought came into my head in the truck, I couldn’t shake it. Seeing her became high on my to-do list.
She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. I’m pretty sure she’s shocked.
“How long of a drive is that for you?”
“You don’t have to be concerned about that, just think about your drive.”
“I damn well have concerns, Cooper. I don’t want you driving what? Four, five hours here. I mean …” She gives a little cough. Her concern for me is cute. “I want to see you. I just don’t want anything to happen to you on the road.”
A shit-eating grin crosses my face. “That ride’s a drop in the bucket. Can you do it?”
“Of course, but—”
“No buts. I don’t have shit going on here at the club this weekend. It’s perfect timing. And beautiful, it’s around three hours. That’s really nothin’.”
“You sure you want to meet up? Do you think that’ll change things?”
“What do you mean change things?”
“I don’t know. I just feel like I know you, and we’ve seen each other twice. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
I chuckle. “Beautiful, everything about this is strange to me. I’m rollin’ with it and askin’ you to do the same.”
“Okay, it’s a plan.”
“It’s a plan.”
I roll out early, only stopping when I need to fill up my tank and take a leak. The anticipation of seeing her builds with each passing mile.
As I pull up to the diner, her Dodge Challenger is parked on the right side of the lot. I pull up next to her and shut down my bike. Her sexy blue eyes stare up at me through her window. Damn, she’s even better looking than I remembered, or is it actually knowing a woman that makes them more than you envisioned?
