I whirl around in surprise. “Um, no. She went to join the rest of our group.”
“You look thirsty,” the guy says and gestures for one of the roving waitresses to come over. He’s slightly under six feet and good looking in a default sort of way. I think it’s his dimples that appear at the corners of his mouth when he smiles at me. “What will you have?”
“Nothing, thanks.” I turn to go to the backroom and join Grant when the guy grabs my wrist. Not hard, but it surprises me. I realize I haven’t been in this situation before. In Fortune, everyone knew I was Grant’s and no male touched me like this there. I got plenty of hugs and the older members would ruffle my hair but this guy—boy, really—is flirting with me. I don’t even know if this is normal.
“Don’t drink? That’s cool. Let me buy you a Coke.”
“No, really.” I twist my wrist away from his grip. “I have a boyfriend.”
He glances around. “Seems like you are all alone. Come on, let me buy you drink.”
He takes two steps closer and I nearly pass out from the stench of liquor that wafts from his breath. He’s been here a lot longer than I have.
“I have a boyfriend,” I repeat, enunciating each word carefully. “And I really need to go.” Because if he steps out of the backroom and sees you this close to me, I’m afraid of what will happen.
“Is there a problem Chelsea?” Thank goodness it’s just Abel. He stands close and crosses his arms.
“This your man?” Dimples asks. He steps forward too, pushing his chest out and crowding me close to Abel.
“No, he’s a friend.” I turn and try, once again, to move toward the back.
“So you were lying about having a boyfriend bitch?”
“He’s drunk, Abel. Drunk. Let it go.” I push Abel square in the chest but at six two he’s immovable. But when Grant appears in the doorway of the pool room, sees Abel standing rigidly next to me, the situation has just taken a turn from irritating to potentially dangerous. I shove Abel harder and am able to move him an inch. “Grant’s coming,” I hiss.
“Good,” he grunts.
“Who the hell is Grant?” Dimples rocks forward.
“You shut up.” I whirl and stab the drunk guy in the chest. “And you,” I turn back to Abel. “Grant is on parole. He cannot get into a fight.”
“What the fuck is going on here?” Grant stops and folds his arms across his chest, the black t-shirt creeping up higher showing a hint of his shoulder tats.
“Nothing baby. I’m parched.” I tap my throat. “You have a beer back there for me?”
“This your man?” Dimples asks. “This leather wearing thug? You into that?”
Grant growls and for a sober man, that low rumble would probably be enough to scare him off, but Dimples is too drunk to feel fear.
“Yes, very into that.” I walk away then, hoping that Grant and Abel will just follow me but when I get only two steps before I realize that neither of them are moving.
“You touch my girl?” Grant’s voice is low and menacing.
“The chick was sad-eyed and alone. A guy leaves a hot piece of ass like that alone is a guy who’s not very interested in her.” Dimple shoots back.
Grant’s hands drop to his side and a fist forms in his right hand. I throw myself at him and he instinctively catches me when I crash into him. “No fighting. You are on parole. I do not want you to go back. You do not want to go back. All that time you spent keeping your head down and doing your time and pretending like you were okay with what happened will be for nothing. Please, let’s go and play pool.”
His muscles bunch under my hands and for a moment, I fear I’ve lost him. And then he tilts his head back and inhales, long and deep. “All right, baby.”
He gives a half laugh, humorless and almost angry. Over my shoulder, he points a finger to Dimples. “I suggest you find somewhere else to party for the rest of the night. I’m taking my girl back to play some pool. Later on, I’m going to come out and if I see you, I’ll hit you so hard that your dead relatives will feel it in their graves.”
He doesn’t wait for Dimples to respond. Instead, he grabs my hand and walks swiftly back to the pool room. Just inside the door, the Misery guys are all standing close to the entrance, some of them are holding cue sticks as if they’re weapons. The other occupants, a half dozen guys and a couple of girls not counting Mandy are pressed up against the wall.
“Everything okay?” Junior asks quietly.
“Yeah,” Grant nods brusquely. “Chelsea here is thirsty though.”
Junior turns to a whip thin male with a goatee and a rattail. His acne marked face makes me wonder if he is even of legal drinking age. Fly, get the girl a drink.”
Fly nods and nearly sprints out. He must be a prospect.
“Who’s winning?” I ask.
“He is.” Junior and Big point to each other simultaneously and then laugh.
“I guess it’s time for a new game.” I walk over to the abandoned table and gather up the balls to be racked. The other patrons seem relieved and re-start their own games.
Too bad it is a short lived relief. As soon as the balls are racked, Junior decides to needle Moose.
"Went by your house the other day," Junior leans over the pool table and lines up his shot. “Susan was there but Mia wasn’t. In fact, Susan wouldn’t say where Mia was. You happen to know?”
Moose takes a long draft of his beer before answering. “She’s around.”
“Haven’t seen her in a while.” Junior pockets one solid and lines up the next one. “In fact, I haven’t seen her in about four months. How about you Big? Seen Mia around?”
Big leans against a stool, his big thighs spread and his pool stick resting between them. He chews on a toothpick as he watches the scene in front of him. “Can’t say that I’ve seen her either. Not since she got out of the hospital. Went by myself a couple months ago to see if the girls needed anything. Susan looked real stressed. Wouldn’t allow me in though.”
“Not really any of your business.” Moose’s color is high. He’s hiding something and everyone knows it.
“When the club started paying her bills, it became our business,” Junior replies. There’s a lot of anger in his voice. Mandy’s hand creeps into mine. I squeeze it tight.
“You aren’t paying her bills anymore are you?”
“And why is that? Did she miraculously get better? You send her off on an all-expense paid vacation to Florida?” Junior hits the two ball too hard and it pops out of the corner, rolling back onto the felt.
He walks around the corner of the table and intentionally brushes by Moose, knocking him off balance. It’s the wrong move although Junior doesn’t know it. Moose is already on edge from yesterday and the little physical aggression from Junior is too much. Moose cracks his pool cue against the side of the table and launches himself at Junior.
All hell breaks loose. Big jumps in immediately, pulling Moose away from Junior. Moose swings his head back and cracks it against Big’s nose. Blood spurts from Big’s face, spraying Moose and Junior.
Abel grabs me and Mandy and pushes us against the wall. His broad back shields us from the action. I hear cursing and then Wrecker shouting. Glass breaks and someone screams. Beside me Mandy is hyperventilating and begins to cry.
“This is fucked up,” she sobs. I put my arms around her. “Why is it always so fucked up around him?”
“It’s going to be okay.” I rub her back, trying to send her some calm.
“How can you stand it? All this blood and violence? I hate it,” she cries. “Hate it!”
“I don’t know,” I admit. The biker life isn’t an easy one. I’ve seen a lot of fights in my short life—even between friends. That’s what happens when guys with a lot of testosterone get drunk and high together. Sometimes it spirals out of control. Throw in a woman and things get really messy. And some clubs are just bent on breaking the backs of others. At meet ups with my mom, before she hooked up with Judge, I saw p
lenty of knives, guns pulled, fists thrown and blood all around.
And with Judge, I wasn’t sheltered from it either. Guys fought. Oh hell, sometimes the women fought. Once BangBang’s wife got into it with a sweet butt who had the temerity to try to come on to BangBang while Danilo was there. Danilo took that sweet butt to the ground, ripped out her extensions and clawed up her face but good.
Then she left BangBang. Moved out the next day.
“It’s going to be all right,” I say but my weak words do nothing to stop Mandy from crying so I just hold her while Abel stands guard.
Soon three burly guys tumble in from the entry way. I’m not sure how they manage it but Junior and Moose are separated and we’re all kicked out.
23
WRECKER
"What the hell was that all about?" I spit out at the two men the minute the nut-freezing cold hits us. The door of the bar slams shut as the bouncers shove us out into the street.
"Nothing." Junior swipes a hand across his face.
Moose sneers. "Nothing is right. Stay out of my fucking business."
"You're in the same club," Chelsea interjects. "How isn't it his business?"
"Fuck you, little girl. Just because your --"
"Don't even say it," I warn. Abel holds me back.
“Let’s go. Let’s all go back to the club. I think Moose has something to share with us.” Abel tilts his head toward Big who gives him the chin up of acknowledgment.
Big and Riot grab Moose by the arms when he tries to break away.
“Oh no you don’t,” Big says. “You’re coming with us.”