Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 30746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
He stepped up to the bar and slapped his hand on the counter. One of the prospects was cleaning glasses but stopped and glanced at him. He got Booshie a beer without him having to ask, and once the cold Sam Adams was in his hand, he turned and stared at Scars speaking with Ranger in the other room. Ranger was an old fuck of a member who was as ancient as the club.
He might not go on runs with them anymore, but he did ride with them in town, participated when needed, and kept the club pussy happy. Even for as old as he was, Ranger fucked like he was a hormonal teenager. That had Booshie grinning like a fool. He knew if any of the guys saw how fucking happy he was, they’d bust his balls.
It wasn’t like he got this way often, rarely in fact. Booshie tipped his beer bottle back, and although it wasn’t quite noon yet, the beer tasted damn good on his tongue. Maybe he was just feeling this surge of emotion inside him, like he was also a hormonal teenager and he had just gotten his dick sucked for the first time. That had him grinning even wider.
“What the fuck has you so happy this damn early?” Little leaned up against the counter of the bar, reeking of alcohol and cheap perfume.
“You need a fucking shower, man.”
Little lifted his middle finger and flipped him off. “Get me a beer,” he said to the prospect without looking at him. “And a shot of whiskey.” He looked at the prospect then.
Booshie lifted a brow in Little’s direction, but the other biker didn’t look at him and just flipped him off again. Booshie chuckled and stared straight ahead as he drank his beer.
“But seriously, what in the hell has you so damn happy?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re a lying sack of shit.” He glanced at Little, watched the man toss the shot back and then chase it with the beer. “Rough night.” He didn’t phrase it like a question, because it was clear the man was hungover, and when one of the club pussy women came stumbling out of the back hallway, it was clear he partied in his room too.
“Yeah. I didn’t close my eyes until past four.” Little scrubbed his hand over his face. “I had to show her why they call me Little.” He looked over at Booshie then and grinned.
“You’re a sadistic asshole.”
Little straightened and turned around to stare at the woman who he clearly fucked last night.
“See how she’s walking all fucked up?” There was almost pride in the sick bastard’s voice. “She found out real fast that Little is the opposite of what I’m packing.” He grabbed his crotch in an obscene manner, but that was the way of the club. The guys didn’t mince shit and said it like it was. “Baby, you ready for round two tonight?” The club pussy stopped and looked at him, and her cheeks heated. She was a newer girl, one who had been hanging around the club cleaning up but then wanted to take it a step further.
“I can hardly walk as it is.”
“Oh yeah, that’s fucking right.” Little drank from his beer bottle and set it on the counter before sauntering over to her. The asshole might be still slightly drunk from last night, but whatever he was whispering into the woman’s ear had her melting against him and sighing.
Booshie turned away before he had to witness them dry-humping each other and saw Ranger leave the room where he was talking to Scars. The Bastards’ president leaned against the meeting table and grabbed a cigarette out from inside his cut. Scars’s face held a hard expression, and Booshie knew something was up. He made his way toward the meeting room and once inside shut the door behind him.
“Hey.”
Scars looked up and lit his cigarette while staring at Booshie.
“Hey, man.” He tossed his light on the table, inhaled deeply, and exhaled just as forcefully. After pulling the cigarette away and looking at it, he took one more hit and snubbed it out. “I really need to quit this shit. I told Stella I would, and look at me smoking.”
“It’s a hard habit to kick.”
Scars nodded.
“What’s up? You look like you got something on your mind.” Booshie pulled out a chair and sat down a little ways away from Scars.
“It’s nothing.”
“Scars.” Booshie waited until he looked his way again. “I’m your VP, your second in command, and I have known you longer than anyone else in this club.” He left it open like that, letting the other man know they were close and therefore needed to trust each other.
He sighed, ran a hand through his dark hair, and finally nodded. “Yeah, man, I know. I guess I’m just feeling my age.”