by Jessica Joy
“Only completely terrified,” I say with a rueful laugh, trying my best to sound light but by the furrow in his brow I can tell I’m not convincing him. The asshole laughs as he pulls me tight and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“You’ll do great Babydoll. Want a rundown before we head in?” I nod, my eyes going wide with nerves and apprehension. He laughs again and tucks me into his side, slinging my arm around my shoulders as we walk toward the massive ironbound double doors of the compound.
“Alright, Basics. King is the top dog, the President, and Axel is his VP. Roxy, King’s Ol’ Lady, runs the roost. She’s really the one in charge, but never tell that to King,” he says with a chuckle. “Most of the Brothers have a worse bark than their bite. One thing to remember, no matter what happens, you are safe here with me. No one would dare mess with you. You are here with me and that commands respect. Flip side of that though, what you do reflects on me too. So, if you want to get sloshed, find me first,” he winks, and I can’t help but laugh. “When we get in there, I need to make the rounds, but I’ll set you up with Roxy and the girls before I take off.”
“Okay, so... scary assholes won’t bite me, bow down before Roxy, and try my best not to make a complete ass of myself. Got it,” he nods his approval and laughs at my succinct assessment.
“Perfect. Ready?” he asks, tilting his head toward the doors. I settle my shoulders and give one curt nod.
Now or never, bite the bullet girl.
Sawyer pushes through the massive doors and we enter the renovated roundhouse that is the home of the Forsaken Sons. Though clubhouse is so not the right word for this place, It’s a goddamn fortress. A solid brick wall runs along the perimeter of the grounds and the massive iron gate guards the entrance to the lot. The building itself is two stories tall with no windows facing the street, offering nothing but a blank brick facade to anyone passing by, with the massive double doors facing the lot breaking up the otherwise unexceptional design. Compound really is the perfect word for this place. The reassuring warmth of Sawyer’s palm ushers me through the doors into this whole new world.
I let him guide me through the doors and into a wide entry hall opening into a massive common space. You’d think a space this large would feel cavernous, but the room feels homey and warm. Straight ahead, I see the beginning of the row of massive garage style doors that once upon a time opened for the trains serviced by the roundhouse and form the inner curve of the half crescent shape the building follows.
As we enter the main room, a long bar running the entire length of the left wall and several tables scattered between the bar and a set of pool tables. An insanely large TV takes up most of the far wall and is surrounded by a couple leather couches and chairs. The floors throughout the whole space are a warm knotty pine and the walls are painted a deep red. Well, I think they are painted red, every available inch of wall space is covered with signs, license plates, posters, bike parts, and framed pictures. Covering the wall to the right and along the hallway are rows of mugshots and a brass sign that says “Hall of Fame” hanging above them.
Before we make it even ten feet into the room, one of the Brothers comes barreling toward us with a wide smile and his arms thrown open for a hug. It’s Goldilocks again but this time I get a much clearer view of him. He’s sporting a mass of wavy, sandy-brown hair, a thick mountain man beard, and the most shockingly blue eyes I have ever seen. He’s wearing what I am coming to recognize as the “Northern Biker Uniform” of faded jeans, biker boots, skintight Henley, and his cut. He rushes Sawyer and bear hugs him, knocking him back and almost off his feet. I can’t contain the laugh that bubbles up at the spectacle, the new man penguin walking around in a circle as he continues to hug the life out of Sawyer as he tries to stay on his feet.
Alrighty then. Safe to say this was the absolute last thing I was expecting to see from a group of badass bikers. Maybe this is the best bromance ever…
“Gage. Fuck. Get off me you fat fuck,” Sawyer growls, trying to shove the other man who is apparently named Gage off him. I think I prefer Goldilocks though between the bearish nature and his unfairly perfect hair.
“Ah me wee lad has brought himself a lass home to meet the family!” Gage crows in such a thick Irish accent I can hardly understand him.
Sawyer shoves Gage off with a jab to the ribs that sends Gage stumbling back, clutching his side and laughing. “Put the accent away ya damned leprechaun.”
“Yer a fecking eejit Sawyer. I’m delightful,” Gage says with a cheesy bright grin, clearly leaning into the accent just to annoy Sawyer.
Rolling his eyes and turning back to me, Sawyer waves his hand dismissively at the other man and says, “Tessa, this man-bear-child is Gage. Don’t listen to a word he says, he’s a dirty scheming Irishman who can’t be trusted,” he gives me a teasing wink as Gage takes a dramatic bow, looking entirely too pleased with Sawyers introduction.
“Sawyer me lad, ye flatter me. Nice to meet ye Tessa,” Gage says, his accent dialing back a few notches. He steps forward and inserts himself in front of Sawyer and offers me his arm. “Now come with me love. I’ll give ye the run down and show ye around while me boyo here does his thing. Ye’ll run for the hills if ye have to put up with this sad sack all night,” he says with a bright smile. I can’t help being utterly charmed by him and his antics. Returning his smile, I loop my arm into his and spare a glance over my shoulder for Sawyer as I’m whisked down the hall by the massive Irish biker.
The words “hipster bare-knuckle boxer” come to mind when looking at Gage. His long hair is left to its own devices and swept to one side, but he could easily pull off the whole top knot man bun thing. His beard is full but looks touchably soft and well groomed. He smells of beard oil, leather, and a heady cologne. There is colorful ink peeking out from the neckline of his shirt and onto the backs of his hands so I’m assuming he is just as covered as Sawyer. Unlike Sawyer’s ink though, Gage’s seems to be a riot of rich colors. Something about the colorful ink strikes me as fitting for the insanely bright and colorful personality of this man.
“Now, Tessa my dear. Let’s go over the basics…”
Guess I’m just diving right in. Alrighty then!
Chapter 14
Sawyer
That fucking Leprechaun.
I really shouldn’t be surprised. Gage is insane and since naming himself my “Leprechaun Godfather,” I really should have expected him to latch onto Tessa. He has her by the arm and is waving around the room like a goddamn theme park tour guide. On the bright side, if she can survive him, she can survive anything in this madhouse. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m more amused or afraid of him taking her off to god knows where. With Tessa off on her whirlwind tour with my psychotic best friend, I grab a drink and make the expected rounds.
Respect. Without it, we have nothing. It’s a cornerstone of the Club; you show respect, you get respect.
Kiki is already popping the cap off a beer when I pull up to the bar and she shoots me a sly smile, sliding the bottle my way. “Hey Sawyer, been a while.”
“Hey Keek. I’ve been busy…” I answer lamely, taking a long pull from the bottle, hoping to avoid the entire topic of our last encounter.
“Busy huh? Looking for some stress relief?” she purrs.
Fuck. So much for that hope.
“Nah, I’ve got a plus one tonight,” I state, not entirely sure how she will react to Tessa and really not wanting to risk upsetting Tess on her first night here.
“Wait, what! You? You brought someone? Like a real live, living, breathing, female someone?!” she asks, instantly perking up and looking at me like an excited puppy.
“Uh. Yeah,” I say hesitantly. I’ve never seen Kiki like this and am not sure where this is going. Honestly, that seems to be happening a lot lately; what the hell is Tess doing to me?
“It’s about damn time!” she laughs, slapping both hands onto the bar, bracing herself as she leans forward, digging in to start the interrogation
. “So, is this the one you were thinking about?”
“Thinking about? When?” I ask, lost, shying from the intensity in her eyes.
“Oh, come on Sawyer. Don’t play stupid. You’re not pretty enough for it,” she teases. Why do I feel like I’m on a run into hostile territory all of a sudden? “You really think I don’t know when a man’s mind is somewhere else? It sure as hell wasn’t my mouth you were fuckin’ that night,” I choke on my beer in shock and embarrassment. Well, fuck me. I had hoped it wasn’t that obvious.
“Keek… I… um…”
“Oh shut up. You know I don’t care. I just hope you snagged whoever it was. I’ve never seen you so distracted and tied up in knots like that,” she says, waving off my stuttering response. Talk about shocked. Clearly, I’m a shitty actor. Tess has had me so wrapped up in knots, no clue how to act and seemingly making the wrong move at every step of the way. She’ll have me wrapped around her damn finger before I even realize it. Deciding to just come clean, I may as well take the path Kiki has laid out for me.
“Yeah, her name’s Tessa. Just moved to town a few weeks ago and is living in Clay’s rental,” I say quietly, trying to keep it between us. Then realizing that intensity is still staring back at me, I quickly add, “be nice.”
“Oh, I’m always nice,” she says with a wink before moving off down the bar to tend to the other Brothers vying for her attention. With a shake of my head, I settle onto a barstool, draining half the beer.
This is going to be a long ass night.
As I attempt to sort out all the shit piled up in my head that Kiki has so generously pointed out, a solid hand claps me on the shoulder and King slides in next to me.
“Prez,” I acknowledge, nodding my head and inclining my beer toward him.
“Sawyer.” King nods in return, motioning for Kiki to bring him a drink. “How ya doing son?”
“Can’t complain. Getting ready for the run down to St Louis next week. Hear from Boulder?” I ask, settling into ‘Club Business Mode’.
“Yep. He’ll have his guys waiting at the drop site in Caseyville on Tuesday. Remy has been up my ass about getting in on more runs now that he’s patched, so I want you and Axel to bring him along and break him in; maybe it’ll shut him up for a while,” King says, more humor than frustration in his tone. I can’t help but chuckle, knowing exactly what King means. Tonight’s little get together is for Remy, Myke, and Ike; our newest members getting patched in. Remy’s young, eager, and chomping at the bit to prove himself and make his mark. Reminds me entirely too much of myself when I was that age. Myke and Ike on the other hand are twin troublemakers who may be giant pains in the asses, but those fuckers can break into anything and anywhere.
“Alright. I’ll get the truck ready this weekend,” I say, mentally running through the list of things to prep before the run.
“Naw, I got a better idea this time. Buddy of mine has a couple horses he might want to auction down south. Remy seems like a kid that likes animals, right?” King says with an evil glint in his eyes and I let out a loud, deep laugh. “Got a trailer retrofitted with a couple holds for the haul and room for a couple horses. Thought we would take that for a spin and have him take care of the livestock while you and Axel deal with Boulder and his guys.”
“Dear Christ Prez! Not pulling any punches with him are ya?” I laugh.
“Not pulling punches with what?” Remy asks, coming up to my other side. I just laugh and shake my head, slapping him on the back a few times and motioning to Kiki to get me the shot. The kid is beanpole, all arms and legs topped with a mop of unruly brown curls. He’s 22 but you would never know it by looking at him. He looks like an overgrown twelve-year-old with his clean-shaven jaw and bright overeager smile.
“Never you mind, son. Never you mind,” King says with a conspiratorial laugh.
“Yeah that’s not terrifying Prez,” Remy says with an eye roll, “what the hell is this?” he asks, his lip curling in disgust at the shot glass Kiki sets in front of him.
“Special requirement, have to make sure you can handle the next run,” I deadpan. The ‘P.R.O.B.E’ is a mixture of Prosecco, Rum, Ouzo, Bourbon, and Everclear served neat in a low ball. Dark and bubbly, smelling of anise, alcohol, and sweetness, it definitely is not a drink you would expect to find at a biker bar, but it’s my special way to see how earnest a fresh patch really is.
King looks at me with a raised eyebrow, “I’m not pulling the punches, eh?”
“Just down it Remy. I need to know you can fit the cover we’re running,” I say, completely serious. His eyes light up, thinking he’s in for something special.
He breathes out and downs the drink, gagging on the riot of flavors. “The fuck was that!? And what the hell kind of cover would need to drink that god awful mess?” he sputters, eagerly taking the beer Kiki has offered him.
“Top Secret, I’ll fill you in later,” I smirk. King pulls the most serious face I’ve seen in a while, giving the kid a nod of approval but a smile cracks the façade.
“Aw, goddamn it! I thought I was done with this shit,” cracks Remy, taking it in stride but clearly not impressed with having to deal with more hazing. King, Kiki, and I fall into rolling laughter.
“So, do I even want to know who Gage is prancing around with?” Remy asks as we settle.
“God you really don’t waste any time, do you? Had your patch for what, an hour? And you’re already bustin’ a Brother’s balls?” King laughs. “Although I’m pretty sure you had that coming Sawyer,” he adds with gesture to the now empty P.R.O.B.E on the bar.
“You kidding? Never thought I’d see the day when Sawyer would show up with a chick who wasn’t already hanging off his cock! I was starting to think he’s more of a monk than Padre!” Remy retorts, slugging me in the shoulder.
“Oh, look at baby Remington getting all mouthy now that he’s got his patch!” I say, pulling him into a headlock and grinding my knuckles into the top of his head. He pulls himself free and straightens his Cut on his shoulders, sitting back down.
“Shut up asshole. All I’m saying is that it’s good to see you not walking around here like you’re ready to kill someone for once,” Remy says, his tone sincere. I start to retort but realize I don’t really have a response to that; the kid isn’t wrong. I’ve been one cranky motherfucker for a long time now and I’ve noticed that even some of the Brothers give me a wide berth. I nod my head and incline my beer toward him in acknowledgment, he does the same and thankfully lets it go.
King leans over the bar to talk past me and I take that as my cue to save Tessa from whatever ridiculous sideshow Gage is subjecting her to. Leaving King and Remy to talk, I get up and look around the common room, taking in the party. All the Brothers are here, even those few that have Old Ladies are here, along with all the Fallen and a healthy dose of hang-on’s. It’s gonna get wild tonight, you can feel it in the room, and see it in the piles of bottles stacking up.
I make a mental note to get Tessa out of here before things get too out of hand. Scanning the room, I see Tessa and Gage at one of the pool tables. He’s holding out a cue to her, looking like he’s giving her a lesson and she is nodding along and giving him a sweet, sincere smile as she takes the cue and tosses it from hand to hand. I make my way over to the high-tops next to the tables.
She shoots me a little wink and a smile that jump-starts by body. Intrigued, I sit back to watch, curious to see how this little scene plays out. Gage racks the balls for a game of eight-ball. He turns back to her, pointing at the table and I assume offering to break and show her how it’s done. She returns his smile and nods her agreement. The asshole preens like he is doing her the most amazing favor by teaching her to play tonight. I can’t help but laugh at his showboating. This should be good.
Gage breaks and sinks one ball. Yes, one. Then he turns back to her and explains what to do next, even going so far as to start showing how to hold the cue and make a shot. She follows along, looking almost in awe of what h
e’s showing her, and the idiot is eating up every second. My little minx has something up her sleeve though, she is a little too eager, too in awe of my dipshit best friend.
The sound of a chair being pulled out draws my attention and I see Axel drop into the chair next to me. “She’s playing the dipshit, isn’t she?” the VP asks.
“Probably,” I say, returning my attention to the scene at the pool table.
“He’s going to lose his mind when he catches on,” Axel chuckles.
“She’s gonna have his shirt before he even knows what hit him,” we both laugh and settle back in our chairs to watch.
Tessa keeps up her act for a few more shots, letting him sink a few more balls and missing a few of her shots by just enough that I can tell she’s pulling them intentionally. By the time Gage is down to his last two balls, he’s strutting around the table like a damn fool and Axel and I are hardly keeping our shit together trying to not giggle like damn schoolgirls as we watch his posturing. Why he’s so happy about beating a chick that he is supposedly teaching the game is beyond me. Tessa pulls a pout at Gage after she “misses” her next shot and it clearly works on him because he resets the shot and gives her another chance. As soon as Gage turns his back, that pout turns into a viscous smile just for me. I slap Axel’s knee a couple times to get his attention. Not that I need to, he’s just as far in this as I am by now.
“It’s about to go down man,” I whisper, barely containing a giggle. Yes. A goddamn giggle.
Tessa steps up to the table, her face schooled and looking tentative, like she can’t decide what shot to take. Then she sweeps up the chalk, dusts the tip and snaps into a perfect form, snapping a shot straight into the side pocket. Up until this point, she has missed every single one of her shots, so she still has all seven of the striped balls left in play. She attacks them one by one, sinking every single shot with perfect precision. My Babydoll runs the table and then like freakin’ Babe Ruth, she calls her shot and proceeds to slam the 8 into the corner pocket with so much finality, I see Gage reflexively cover his junk since he’s right behind it.
