“That your Vulcan out front?”
“Yeah.” It was a solid bike. It had done me good over the past few years, but it wasn’t in the best shape. It needed a fresh coat of paint and a new seat. Hell, I was actually surprised he’d even noticed the damn thing. “Been looking to get a Harley, but I don’t have that kind of cash on me right now.”
“I get it. I had a Yamaha for years before I managed to get my Harley.” He studied me for a moment, then extended his hand. “Folks call me Country.”
“Nice to meet ya, Country.” I shook his hand. “I’m JR.”
“JR?” His brows furrowed. “You a junior or something?”
“Not exactly.” I wasn’t a fan of my full name and for good reason. It wasn’t exactly a popular name, and folks loved giving me hell about it. I grimaced as I admitted, “JR stands for Joshua Ralph. Didn’t much like either name, so I started going by JR.”
“Ralph, huh?” A smirk crossed his face. “Can’t say I blame ya for going with JR.”
“It is what it is.” I felt like a complete asshole. I’d finally gotten my chance to talk to a Sinner, and I’d done nothing but make a fool of myself. Feeling like a complete loser, I pushed my untouched beer over to the edge of the counter, then placed a ten down next to it. “Guess I best get going.”
“You don’t want your beer?”
“Nah. Not worth getting Gladys in trouble over.”
I stood up, and as I headed towards the door, Country called out to me, “Hey, where you rushing off to?”
“Nowhere in particular.”
“You interested in checking out the clubhouse?”
“Hell, yeah.”
A smirk crossed his face as he snickered, “I like your enthusiasm.”
“Yeah, well, it’s always been a dream of mine to prospect for the Sinners.”
“Is that right?” He strolled over to me as he continued, “Well, here’s your chance to check it out, and while we’re there, I can get you a couple of beers without either of us having to worry about Gladys getting shut down.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I’d actually gotten an invite to the clubhouse. Even though I had another class in an hour, there was no way in hell I was going to pass up my chance. Trying not to sound too eager, I gave him a casual nod and replied, “That would be awesome.”
He gave me a slap on the back, then walked out of the bar and into the parking lot. Seconds later, I was following him over to the Ruthless Sinners’ clubhouse. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t know what to think. My mind was racing like an explosion had just gone off in my brain. I took a few deep breaths, trying in vain to calm myself down. I needed to consider what I was doing, where I was going, but I was too keyed up to think about the danger I was putting myself in. When we pulled up to the gate at the clubhouse, I looked around in complete awe. The place was even better than I imagined, and as I followed Country through the guarded gate, a strange sensation washed over me. It could’ve been any number of things. Fear. Anticipation. Apprehension. Hope. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.
Once we were parked, Country gave me a quick nod, then led me inside. As we entered the bar, several of the members turned and watched my approach with fierce expressions. I should’ve been intimidated as hell. Instead, I felt like my dreams were finally coming true, and I was trying my damnedest to contain my excitement as we made it over to his brothers. All eyes were on me as Country announced, “I’d like you boys to meet a friend of mine. I think he’d make a hell of a prospect.”
It was really happening. I was actually getting my chance. I thought nothing could put a damper on the moment, but I was wrong. One of the brothers gave me the once over before asking, “This friend of yours got a name?”
Before I could answer, Country reached over and placed his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “Yep. His name’s Ralph.”
Damn.
Country fucked me big time the day he’d told the guys my name, but he also had given me my in with the brothers and even volunteered to be my sponsor. Over the next year, I busted my ass trying to do whatever I could to prove I was an asset to the club—all the while listening to the guys call me Ralph at least a hundred times a day. In the end, it was all worth it. I’d gotten my patch, I’d become a Ruthless Sinner, and as an added bonus, the brothers finally stopped calling me Ralph and declared Rafe as my road name. I’d done what I’d set out to do, and life couldn’t be better.