5 Bikers for Valentines

“It's alright. I was only joking around anyway,” he said, sounding a little more subdued than angry. “Give me a rum and Coke.”

&nbs

p; “Sounds good,” Casey said. “So, one pussy frat boy drink, and a real man's Scotch on the rocks. Comin' right up.”

She winked at me as she turned to go get our drinks. Greg leaned back and licked his lips, checking out her ass as she walked away.

“She's totally into me,” he declared, about as self-aware as a rock.

“Sure, man,” I chuckled.

My own eyes, almost seeming to be acting of their own volition, followed her back to the bar. She did have a nice ass and curves for miles. I couldn't blame Greg for wanting to check her out.

“Nah, seriously, she's playing hard to get,” he said. “But, before too long, she'll be begging for my cock. Just wait and see, brother. Wait and see.”

I rolled my eyes and reminded myself to never, ever tell him about needing to knock a girl up for my inheritance. The last thing I needed was him trying to push me on every hot woman that walked our way. Hell, he was already doing that and didn't know my inheritance rested on me having a baby within the next year.

Some things are better left unsaid between friends. Especially when you had a friend like Greg.

“I'm going to take a piss,” he said.

Casey was right. Greg still acted like an immature little frat boy. In most ways, he was. He never had to grow up and out of that mentality because his dad always pulled his ass out of the fire when needed. It was needed pretty often.

We'd gone to college together – not that Greg had actually tried to succeed in college. He'd just showed up to party and join his dad's fraternity. Partying and girls were the only things he'd been interested in, knowing he was set for life. Being the only child of a billionaire had to be nice. It had to give you a sense of security – and had to kill any desire or sense of urgency to succeed on your own.

At one time, I'd known what that was like.

Greg got up and walked toward the bathroom, leaving me alone at the table. A couple of moments later, Casey came back with our drinks.

“Did I scare your friend away?” she asked.

“No, he's just in the bathroom,” I said. “He'll be back.”

“Lucky me,” she grumbled. Then her smile returned, almost like she'd forced it to. “Is there anything else I can help you with? And please, no pickup lines, I've had more than my fair share tonight and none of them are all that original.”

“Don't worry,” I said. “I'm not interested in picking you, or anyone else up. You're safe from me. Promise.”

“Good boy,” she said. “Especially since you have that hot girlfriend back home. Nice to know some men can remain loyal.”

“You – you remember Danielle?”

She shrugged. “I remember all my regulars,” she said with a smile. “It usually pays off. In tips, I mean.”

“Of course.”

I started to tell her that Danielle and I were no more, but it seemed unnecessary. Not like she'd care. She was merely being friendly and making conversation to get a good tip out of it. I pulled out my wallet and passed her a fifty-dollar bill.

“Do you want to close out your tab already?” she asked.

“No, that's for you,” I said. “We'll pay the tab later. I just figure you deserve a little something for putting up with assholes like my friend.”

She smiled, “Thanks, Mr. Crane.”

“Malcolm,” I said. “Please, call me Malcolm.”

“I'll remember that, Malcolm.”

“I have no doubt you will.”