“You’re like a wise old owl, brother.”
“I ought to kick your ass for calling me old, Rooster.”
“You got a girl at home, Dex?” Shelby asks.
He takes a long pull from his beer before answering. “No.”
“Sorry, that was dumb. Of course you wouldn’t be out on the road this long if you did.”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart.”
More orgasmic noises followed by a round of clapping.
“Was this a thing when you were a prospect?” Shelby asks Dex.
“Not really.”
“It wasn’t a thing when I was a prospect here,” I mutter.
“Aw, you feelin’ cheated?” Shelby pats my cheek.
“No.”
Dex rumbles with laughter. “I enjoy your sass, Shelby.”
“Thank you.”
The front door chimes and loud voices announce the arrival of a bunch of club girls, followed by some brothers.
“Go use what you learned,” Foghorn shouts, dismissing his students.
Dex leans in closer to me. “You wanna tell me what the fuck the point of that was?”
“Lost Kings have an obsession with being known as the best at pleasuring the ladies?” Shelby barely gets out the last few words she’s laughing so hard.
I snort-choke on my water.
Dex roars with laughter. “Yeah, maybe that’s it.”
“Holy shit,” someone yells behind us. “That a New York rocker I see over there?”
I turn, putting my back to the bar. Ah, yes. I recognize most of the brothers joining us. I stand, keeping a hold on Shelby.
Ink approaches me with a half-smirk. “Look at you, Rooster. All grown up.” The asshole pats my cheeks. His eyes widen and he whistles as he takes in my VP patch. “You’re a big boy now. Vice president.” He pronounces the words slowly as if this is the first time I’m aware of the patch stitched on my cut. He turns to the rest of his brothers and slow claps. “Look at our boy.”
“Good to see you too, fucker.” I note the absence of any officer patches on his cut. Not that every brother has what it takes to serve the club. Obviously, there are more brothers than board positions available. But I’m not surprised at his lack of ambition. Ink always erred on the lazy side of brotherhood from what I remember.
“What brings you home, brother?”
“Out on the road with my old lady.” I curl my arm over Shelby’s shoulders.
He nods to her but that’s it which is fine by me. “Please tell me Jiggy’s here too?”
“He’s around here somewhere,” I confirm.
Ink moves on to harass Dex.
Shelby leans up on tiptoes. “He can’t be more than five years older than you. Why’s he acting like you’re just outta diapers?”
“Always been like that.”
“Hmph.” Shelby watches him over her shoulder for a few seconds.
“Rooster!”
I recognize the old, raspy voice and groan when I spot the brother it belongs to. “Hey, Smoke.” I scan him quickly. The brother’s been known to carry a loaded gun and get trigger-happy when he’s had too much to drink. “What the hell you doing’ all the way out here? Thought you ended up in Florida?”
Maybe that came out harsher than I intended. He frowns before answering, “Nah, too fucking hot. Always liked the West Coast. Spent a little time in Florida, then made my way out here. Been welcomed with open arms.”
I’m sure that’s a dig. He hadn’t exactly left downstate willingly. While he’d voted with the club to put our last VP in the ground, and participated, he hadn’t been one hundred percent in favor of Z’s plans to clean up our club. It’s not exactly encouraging that he found a home in our Washington charter.
Maybe this place needs more cleaning up than Z or Priest realize.
Brother or not, I don’t have a high opinion of Smoke. He turns, dismissing me, and I note that his bottom rocker is blank.
Jigsaw makes his way to my side, watching Smoke with narrowed eyes. “This motherfucker,” he says in a low voice once he’s close enough.
“Yup.”
“Forget him. I came over to warn you—”
“Rooster!”
I groan when I recognize the old biker walking up to us.
“Hopper.” I wave as if I’m happy to see the fucker who threatened to pump me full of lead the night of his daughter’s nineteenth birthday party. I lean into Jigsaw’s side. “I thought you said he retired and moved on?”
“That’s what I heard,” he says without a trace of humor. Since he sounds as annoyed as I feel, I don’t hold it against him.
Hopper moves through the crowd slowly, a lopsided smile on his craggy old face.
Shelby squeezes my arm. Guess she remembers the name.
“Rooster.” Hopper holds out a hand. “Good to see you, brother.”
Huh. Maybe he’s gone senile.
“Jigsaw.” Hopper offers Jiggy the same friendly handshake.
“How you been, Hopper?” I ask, looking him straight in the eye. If this fucker tries to shoot me tonight, I’m returning fire.
“Not too bad.” His gaze drops to Shelby. “Who’s this?”
“This is my ol’ lady. Shelby, this is Hopper. He used to be the prez here. Back when I patched-in.”