“I thought he was going to punch me in the mouth until I suggested a piercing instead. Thought it might give some poor woman a bit of pleasure at least.”
“Hey, Nails,” Wills shouts out to the prospect who’s bartending at the moment. “What would you have tatted on your dick?”
Quick as a flash he responds, “A nine-inch nail of course.”
I think as one, we all lean over the bar and peer over and down.
“Grower,” Nails says smartly, before moving off with a wink.
“So,” Wills prompts.
“So what?”
“Did you pierce his dick?”
I crease my eyes having lost the thread of this conversation. “Sorry, I was distracted by Nail’s nine-inch dick.”
“So he says.” Sparky starts, looking around. “Hey, Dirt!” When he catches our other new prospect’s eyes, he yells, “Has Nails got a nine-inch dick?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Dirt calls back, the sack he’d been using to collect empties dangling from his hand.
“You live with him.” Sparky’s unrelenting.
“Yeah, but we don’t compare dicks.”
“Hey, I’m a grower as I said. Dirt doesn’t get me hard.”
“Prove it!” Beef slaps a twenty down on the bar top. “That says it’s not nine inches. Come on man.”
Nails is a prospect. If he wants his patch, he’ll do whatever is asked of him. It’s always a good laugh teasing a newbie.
We all start slapping our money down, Beef starts recording bets which currently go from three to ten inches. The longest was a joint bet from the club girls who I think are just optimistic. I stare at Nails, trying to read the man, before placing down my own two tens.
“Nine,” I say, hopefully, thinking of a shit job I can give him if he’s lying. Shittier than taking down his pants and getting himself hard in the middle of the clubroom.
I can tell the man’s reluctant as cries start to go around of ‘drop ‘em, prospect’, and ‘does that man want his fuckin’ patch’, and ‘who’s got a ruler to hand’—the phrasing of the latter causing a few laughs. Beaver, I notice, is smirking at the other end of the bar. As a prospect who’s been here a while, he’ll be appreciating the heat is on someone else now.
With a sigh and a glare at the VP, Nails comes around the bar, and starts unzipping his pants.
“Hey, I’ll help.”
“Prospects don’t get whores’ hands on them,” Bomber snarls at Breezy. “Let the man handle himself.”
Again, we all crack up.
But Breezy does help, though in a hands-off way. She lowers her top so her tits are hanging out and fondles them, while licking her lips. Nails pulls out his cock and starts tugging on it, then fists one hand around it, fondling his balls with the other.
“Don’t you dare come,” yells Dirt. “I ain’t cleaning up your shit.”
Nail’s head goes back and fuck me, well that cock swells and lengthens. Quite impressively actually.
“Is that it?” Rusty asks. “Here, Liz.”
As I turn, he hands me a fucking ruler. “Why me?”
“’Cause you’re used to handling dicks. Come on. Go measure it.”
With a grimace I step forward. “Don’t you dare go off, Prospect. You get cum on me and you won’t get your patch.”
“Well for fuck’s sake hurry,” Nails gasps.
I place the ruler against his dick, pressing it against the root making him gasp.
“Hurry up!” His voice is tense.
“Nine inches!” I announce in delight, seeing the size of the pile on the top of the bar.
“Hey, let me check.” Beef comes over.
“Man, hurry the fuck up.”
“Hold it there, Nails. Yeah, Liz, I think you’re right. Good call, Brother. Anyone else want to take a look?”
Seems they all do. Nails is going red in the face. “Jeez, I’m—”
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Thunder’s loud voice booms.
Eventually Beef takes pity on the man both fighting to maintain his erection and trying hard not to come. “Okay, put it away now, Nails.”
Then we all stand watching him try to get his very erect and reasonably long cock back inside his pants.
“Can I take five?” he asks, sounding desperate.
“Who’s serving fuckin’ drinks?” Judge bangs the bar top. “I want a beer.” He shakes his head at Beaver, warning him to stay where he is.
As a result, Nails doesn’t get his five minutes, instead he has to hobble stiffly back around the bar to pour our drinks.
I’m just reaching to collect the pot of money lying on the bar when the main door opens and I automatically swing around to see that it’s Mace, with a woman and teenage boy in tow. It’s the bitch who was here yesterday, and I wonder why she’s back. The boy is staring at me as I count up the money. I turn away, not knowing him from Adam. Not my business, or nothing more than idle curiosity as to why we have strangers in the club.
But as they walk past, I hear the boy ask Mace in a loud voice, “Do they swear a lot here then?”
Mace snorts and looks over at the money I just picked up.
“Just a bit, little bro,” he answers the kid. “Yeah. Just a bit.”
Then he’s taken them over to the stairs which lead to the bedrooms. Has Mace picked himself up a woman? If so, she’s quite a pretty-looking bitch, though older than the ones he usually goes for. Wonder if he’s going to share her? Hmm. Probably wouldn’t mind that. Would have to ditch the kid though.
Well I had me some entertainment at the prospect’s expense and earned myself a hundred bucks to boot. Good times. I stand with a beer in my hand, wondering which sweet butt I’ll get to warm my bed tonight, thinking once again this is the fucking life. I’ve got everything I want and need here. There’s nothing missing at all. Nothing at fucking all.
For some reason, I think of the kid who just walked in. He reminded me of me for some reason. Strange to think I was once a pimply brat his age. Christ.
As usual the blast of pain hits me by surprise, coming on with no warning. I place my elbows on the bar and put my head in my hands, trying to massage my temples.
“You okay, Bro?”
I breathe in deeply, let it out slowly, then do it again. Then again. After the third time, the pain’s receded sufficiently for me to speak. “Fuckin’ headache, Mace. Must have overdone it today.” While I’d been bent over with pain, Mace and at least one of his visitors had obviously come back downstairs.
“You know what causes them? You’re getting them more often it seems.”
“Yeah. Pretty certain it’s my age. Reckon my eyesight’s going. All that close work I’m doing, concentrating and shit. Probably eyestrain and I need glasses. I’ll go see the optometrist when I get time.”
“My mom sometimes gets migraines when she has a period.” The voice isn’t one I recognise, it’s squeaky as if half-broken.
I raise my head to see the young boy standing next to Mace. “Yeah? And how do you know about fuckin’ periods, kid?” Did I know someone who got bad when they were bleeding? Can’t place it if I did.
The teenager standing next to Mace eyes me sympathetically but answers my question. “I live with a woman, they can’t hide shit.”
Mace leans down, but I can hear what he’s saying, “Just because your mom isn’t here doesn’t mean you won’t get fined.” He taps his head. “I’m keeping a tally, lil’ Bro.”
The kid rolls his eyes.
“Hey, Lizard, meet Castiel. Castiel, meet Lizard. Or Liz as we call him.” Mace now addresses me. “His mom, Vanna, is an old friend and they’ve come to visit. They’re going to be staying for the weekend. She’s up getting settled in Demon’s room.”
So they’re not sleeping together? Or probably that’s where the kid will be while his mom warms Mace’s bed.
“We’ve just come down to grab a couple of sodas.”
“Your visitors want something to
eat?” Nails asks as he grabs the drinks and puts them on the bar. “Think there are some leftovers.”
“No,” says Mace.
“Yes,” says the kid at the same time.
“We stopped for food on the way here,” Mace challenges him.
“So?” The kid, Cas, shrugs. “I’m a growing boy, what can I say?”
Mace laughs. “You’re the devil’s spawn, that’s what you are.” He ruffles the kid’s head. “Come on, let’s see what these fuckers left.”
“Language!” the boy admonishes him.
As the pair walks away, my eyes follow them, and I shake my head. Mace seems really friendly with that kid. Strange he’s never mentioned him or his mom before. Even stranger, yesterday I’d have sworn she was a total stranger to him. But what do I know? Ruefully I rub my head where the pain has now dimmed to just a dull residual ache. Can’t trust this brain of mine to know whether I’m imagining things or if they’re real.
“Head bad?”
“Not great.” I give a half-smile at Tulia’s obvious concern.
She takes hold of my hand. “Come on, how about I make you feel better?”
That sounds fucking good. I already know she gives great head massages which have worked a time or two before, and when my head’s eased, well, there are other things she can do with her hands. And her mouth.
Tulia does indeed make me feel better. When she leaves having provided me with a variety of her services, I fall asleep fast. Waking, I’m sweating with the gunfire and explosions from my nightmare still ringing in my head. My body shaking, I go to the bathroom and take a long piss. I look into the mirror, noticing my bloodshot eyes. Christ, that dream was a fucker. I haven’t had one so bad in a long time. I wonder what brought it on.
Returning to my bedroom, I eye the bed with distaste, not trusting the nightmare not to return if I close my eyes again. Moving to the window, I pull up the blind and see the night sky lightening. Suddenly an early morning ride looks a more attractive option than sleep.
The clubhouse is deadly quiet when I leave. When I return several hours later, it’s a hive of activity. Breakfast noises of the clattering of plates are coming from the kitchen, accompanied by the glorious smell of bacon. Can anyone ever get fed up with that? Not me, that’s for certain.
I grab a plate, thanking Jeannie, and to annoy her man, Bomber, plant a kiss to her cheek, then getting out of his way, head to the clubroom to find myself an empty seat. I spy the woman, Vanna, wasn’t it? who Mace brought in last evening sitting alone, but no sign of my brother or the kid. The wind therapy having done wonders, I feel sociable today, I decide to go over.
She’s got a cup of coffee in front of her, and her nose in a book. Or eyes on her e-reader, the modern equivalent.
She looks up as I near. “Good morning, Lizard.”
“You remember my name?”
“I met you before.”
Yes. The day before yesterday, of course. Mace had told her my name. Hadn’t he said she’d come to find me? I shake my head. Must be getting muddled, it must have been him she’d come to see.
“Where’s your boy?”
“Cas,” she gives me his name. “Mace has taken Cas to your auto-shop. He had to go down to check something out, and Cas loves anything to do with cars and bikes, so he tagged along.” The way she bites her lip makes her look worried.
“What’s up with that?”
“Nothing wrong with what he’s seeing, it’s how he’s getting there that concerns me. He’s gone on the back of Mace’s bike.”
“First time?”
“Yessss.”
“Well, don’t worry. Mace is a good rider. He’ll take extra care with a passenger.”
“Thank you for that.” She seems genuinely grateful for my reassurance.
I’m burning to ask why she’s here, but I don’t think it’s my place. She proves herself a mind reader.
“You’re probably wondering why we’re here. Cas, well, Cas has had a bit of trouble recently, and I’m on my own. Mace thought he and you, his brothers, might help steady Cas a bit.”
I nod toward her left hand where I’ve just noticed a wedding band rests. “Your husband’s no help with that?”
“My husband’s gone.”
The way she’s spoken makes me surmise he’s dead. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She shakes her head. “It’s a long time ago now.”
“But you still wear his ring?”
“I still love him.”
Her simple words both impress and dismay me, that she can remain true to a man who’s in his grave. Or at least, in some ways. I’m driven to check. “So, you and Mace?”
“Just friends.”
For now, I think to myself. Knowing my brother and how unusually patient he seems to be with her son, I think that change might be on the horizon for her.
I chuckle, remembering last night, and being unable to stop myself messing with her, I lean in. “You know what Mace calls the kid?”
“Er, Cas?”
“Nah,” I tell her, a smirk on my face. “Devil’s spawn.”
Her hand covers her mouth as she gives a tinkling laugh. “Oh my God, he’s right. That’s exactly what he is.” As she continues chuckling, I’m thinking it wasn’t as funny as all that, but it seems to have appealed to her. I’m wondering exactly what this Cas did to earn such a title. But hey, aren’t all kids trouble? That’s why I never want any myself.
A reminder goes on my phone.
“That’s my cue to leave, I’ve got to get to work. I run a tattoo parlour, and Saturdays are the busiest days of the week. Hey, you want any ink, you come to me, darlin’.”
“Thank you, I’ll remember that.”
I start to stand, and for some reason am driven to ask. “You got any tats already?”
She blushes red. “Just one.”
“Oh?” I don’t know why, but something makes me want to know more. Call it professional curiosity, I like checking up on another artist’s work. “Can I see it?”
“No,” she tells me. Then adds, “Only my husband has ever seen it.”
Oh fuck no. I rise with a semi hard-on imagining exactly where it is. Quickly I leave and escape to Devil’s Ink.
It’s a busy day and I hardly have a moment to myself. We end up turning away a lot of walk-ins even with Jonah, Whale and Vi all working alongside me. But we don’t waste the opportunity, trying to book those who’re not members of the must have it done today brigade into the quieter times during the week.
When I finally close up and return to the compound, word reaches me that Demon’s issued a command, no public fucking while the kid’s around. As I presume he’ll be gone tomorrow, that’s not going to be too hard. Particularly as I’m exhausted, a nice gentle fuck in my room is probably all that I’m up for.
I eat, drink, socialise. I notice Mace and the kid playing pool while Vanna looks on. I watch Mace get beat, then, can’t resist wandering over to see he’s getting slaughtered by Vanna too. I linger as he tries a rematch, finding my eyes drawn to her delicious ass as she leans over the table to take her shots. The table that she’d probably be disgusted to know the other things that it’s used for. But the prospects do clean it.
I’m pushed away when Vi, Jay, Steph and Beth gather around to cheer her on. Vanna goes on to beat Rusty and Sparky, then no one else will play her. At one point she notices me watching and looks straight at me and winks.
Wondering whether it was her late husband who taught her to play as expertly as she does, I take myself off to find Breezy to ease the sudden ache in my dick.
That night I have another fucking nightmare. Fuck this shit. I thought I was done with it. It’s the type of dream you can’t catch hold of when you awake but are just left with that lingering feeling of helplessness and terror making you afraid to chance anymore sleep. I’m tired as hell though, so I try to drop off, but keep jerking back awake. I don’t rush to get out of bed the next morning, just lazing and t
hinking. Remembering.
I’m Lizard, otherwise known as Norton James. I ride with the Satan’s Devils MC and have done for the past ten years. I’m thirty-eight years old, and my birthday is the tenth of January. I’m a tattoo artist and I run Devil’s Ink on behalf of my brothers. I’ve no ties, no family and that’s the way I intend to stay.
When I finally rise, I just grab a bacon sandwich and eat it on the way to my bike.
I work Sundays, letting Vi and Jonah have the day off. Whale and I handle the trade well between us, him impressing me with his standard of work and how tidy he keeps his station. So much so, I even call him Weston a couple of times and ordered in pizza for us both at lunchtime.
By the time I get home, Mace has gone and so have Vanna and Cas. Tits are out, well those of the club girls at least, and gloves are off as anything goes again. The place is back to normal and I can relax.
Funnily enough, I think to myself, looking around the crowded room, I didn’t even have much to do with him, but I miss that little shit. Devil’s spawn indeed. Sounds like Mace came up with a good name.
I even catch myself wondering whether he’ll be visiting again.
Chapter Nine
Mace
Once Cas had returned from his second trip upstairs to collect yet another thing which he’d forgotten to pack, I’m at last able to put the truck into drive and start the journey back to Denver. I’d enjoyed watching the interaction between mother and son, realising how much there was to all this parenting shit, and how having the patience of Job was essential.
“Have you got everything, Cas?”
With an exaggerated eye roll he’d replied tiredly, “Yes, Mom.”
“Phone charger?”
Cas had stared, then turned, and reaching the stairs, took them two at a time.
“Toothbrush?” she’d asked when he’d come back down, sending him running back to the bedroom again and descending with his bag of toiletries in his hand. She hadn’t commented, just thrown a wink my way.
But her moment of parental satisfaction hadn’t lasted long. I didn’t miss the look of longing and regret she’d sent in the direction of the clubhouse when we finally got on our way and wasn’t surprised that the drive started in silence.
Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6 Page 86
