Total pages in book: 212
Estimated words: 207966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1040(@200wpm)___ 832(@250wpm)___ 693(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1040(@200wpm)___ 832(@250wpm)___ 693(@300wpm)
“All good?” I asked Pudge, who was peering between blind slats on the door leading out of the clubhouse.
“Chick just pulled in. Usin’ her phone, so she’s either here realizing Deke’s Roadhouse ain’t open and changing her plans or she’s lookin’ for someone up here. If she’s not gone in twenty seconds, I’m heading down.”
I looked out the window. “She’s here for me.”
My phone buzzed against my thigh. I reached into my pocket.
Dina: Hey. I’m outside Deke’s Roadhouse. Cool to come up?
Pudge moved, so I stepped out and headed to her car.
She smiled brightly as her window rolled down.
“Figured I’d pop by and give you this back.” She slipped me my Zippo. “Somehow it wound up in my pocket.”
“Thanks,” I said and slipped it into my pocket, knowing she wasn’t here this late to return my lighter. She wanted another helping of cock.
“You wanna grab a drink?” she asked.
“Roadhouse is closed, number one.”
“Doesn’t have to be here.” She smiled brighter, shaking her head, red curls bouncing.
“I’m on duty tonight.”
“Oh.” She pouted. “What’s that mean? Duty?”
“Club business.”
“Club business? That code for none of my business?”
When I said nothing in reply, she tried, “Tomorrow?”
“Busy for the foreseeable.”
Her back straightened as her eyes narrowed. “The foreseeable? Is this a… a brush-off?”
I shrugged. “Made things clear, babe. Told you I wasn’t lookin’ for serious. I’m not sayin’ I won’t wanna hook up again some time, what I’m sayin’ is I’m busy for the foreseeable. Call before you pop by, so you don’t waste your time and gas.”
“Oh.” She looked at me like I was holding a carton of sour milk under her nose.
I’ve banged her four times. First time, in my room after meeting her downstairs in The Roadhouse. Second time at her place. Third, the other night when she showed at Deke’s Roadhouse. Again last night telling me she cabbed it due to car problems, asking me to drive her home. I did that, thinking I’d stay for a while and take what she was offering, but got called to help out with the Pippa’s ex situation and then magically, her car was available to bring her back here. Game player, which I have no use for. And while she was a decent enough lay, beyond being a warm body there was nothing worth exploring. Though that’s not a surprise. Haven’t felt anything real with anybody in a while. Not since Chelsea, who taught me a lesson I won’t forget.
Chelsea didn’t wait for me while I did two years for assault on her behalf. Defending her was the right thing to do; the shithead I beat to within an inch of his life deserved it, so I never wanted to take it back, but I wanted to erase how it felt when after swearing she would wait twenty if need be – she loved me that much, appreciated what I did for her that much and swore she was all mine, forever, then she didn’t even wait two months before movin’ on, doing so with a buddy of mine. And then not long later the truth about what a manipulating liar she was left me regretting everything about my time with her.
My lesson gleaned was that I needed to adjust my expectations after that. Not to mention pick my friends as carefully as my battles. I’ve been selective about women and friends since then.
“See ya,” I dismissed, giving the hood of Dina’s ride a slap before backing up.
Irritation flashed in her eyes before she rolled her window up and backed her car out.
2
“Must be nice,” Pudge razzed from the barstool when I got back upstairs. “Chasin’ ‘em off with a stick.”
“It’s the stick they want,” I fired back.
He snickered, then threw back a shot of whisky.
“Not gonna pass out on watch, are ya?” I slapped his arm jokingly.
But I was only half-joking and by the way Pudge went rigid, he knew that.
“Not a fuckin’ chance,” he clipped, glaring at me from under his bushy eyebrows. When I didn’t react, he tacked on, “Deke Valentine is the reason I’m here.”
I jerked my chin up, so he stated, “In other words, no way would I let my fuckin’ prez down.”
“My bad,” was my answer.
He stared, so I continued with, “Saw you throw back more than half a dozen shots a few hours ago, brother.”
“Yeah, brother,” he emphasized the brother to let me know he didn’t appreciate a fellow MC brother questioning him. “At least.”
“Just making sure you’re good. You’re not, I’ll wake Bront and we’ll split your watch; that’s all.”
“Didn’t know you were countin’ my shots, Jesse James,” he replied acidly. “Pretty sure I had three or four when you weren’t lookin’, so best mark those down, too.” He poured a double, then tossed it back and slammed the glass on the bar.
I waited, knowing he had more to say.