“No.” Jiggy stands and blocks her path. “Get the fuck out of our clubhouse.”
“Jigsaw,” Shelby starts.
Jiggy ignores her. When the prospect arrives, he shoves the girl into his arms. “This one needs to go.”
“What’s going on, brother?” Steer asks.
“Amy needs to learn some respect.” Jiggy stares down at the quivering prospect. “Do not let her back inside that door or you’ll clean every toilet in this clubhouse with your motherfuckin’ tongue.”
“Y-yeah. You got it, Jiggy.” He grabs the girl by the arm and marches her toward the front door.
Steer snorts as he watches them leave.
“The fuck you laughing about, bro?” Jigsaw drops into his seat again. “He’s doing your fucking job.”
“You didn’t have to do that on my account, Jiggy,” Shelby drawls.
“Eh.” He waves off her concern with a flick of his hand.
“Jiggy’s trying to impress you, Shelby,” Steer taunts. “He’s hoping you’ll take pity on his poor, lonely willy one day.”
I roll my eyes. One way or another, this won’t end well for Steer.
“You got a death wish, Steer?” Shelby asks. “Rooster hears you talking that trash, he’s—”
“Fuck that,” Jigsaw snaps. “My willy’s allergic to anyone who disrespects my brothers’ girls. That’s all.”
“That’s sweet, Jiggy.” Shelby covers her ears with her hands. “Now, I don’t wanna hear nothin’ about any of y’alls’ willies ever again. Okay?”
“Yeah, and keep ’em in your pants.” I point to the ceiling. “I’ve been traumatized enough tonight by what I saw upstairs.”
“Good luck.” Sparky pops up from behind the couch and drapes his arms over the back of it.
“Damn!” Shelby clutches her chest. “You almost gave me a dang heart attack. What’re you doing hiding back there?”
He just gives us a goofy grin, then climbs over the back of the couch and drops onto one of the cushions. “Talking about where to park their willies is their favorite topic.”
“Jigsaw,” I say. “That was commendable, and we all appreciate you sticking up for us.”
He nods and winks at me. “I’m able to rise above my baser instincts to protect my family.”
“Dream on, Charlotte.” Steer wags a finger at me. “Jigsaw doesn’t want Shelby telling her momma about all the pussy he pulls.”
Shelby heaves out a long, dramatic sigh. “Not this again,” she mutters.
“At least you admit I get more ass than you,” Jigsaw says with a shit-eating grin.
“It’s just ’cause you look all broody and scary.” Steer slashes a line across his face. “They see your scarred mug and wanna heal you.”
Jigsaw grits his teeth, the first sign I’ve ever seen from him that the guys’ joking around has gone too far.
“That’s not cool, Steer,” I say, even though I know damn well I shouldn’t get involved.
“No, no,” Jiggy argues with exaggerated sarcasm. “Bullshit Bob is right. When I was a kid, I thought to myself, ‘Gee what will make the ladies drop their panties when I’m older? I know, I’ll slice up my face.’”
The sadistic smile slides off of Steer’s lips. “Sorry, bro. Charlotte’s right. That wasn’t cool.”
Jiggy stares at him for a second, as if he’s trying to decide if Steer’s apology is sincere. “All right, brother.”