“How you been, Rooster?” Blaise asks as soon as I identify myself.
“Not bad. Been on the road for a bit now.”
“Nice. Nothing better than chasing wind.”
“True.” Best to get straight to the point. “Actually, I’ll be rolling through your neck of the woods in a few days. Think we could meet up?”
He hesitates longer than I expected. And it’s not like I hear him flipping through his calendar on the other end.
“Yeah, I can do that. Anything particular on your mind?”
“Ran into some mutual former associates recently.”
“Oh yeah?” Now I have his interest.
“They seemed confused with some geographical issues but we had an open and honest discussion. A real healing experience.”
He laughs for a solid thirty seconds. “That’s great. Y’all have a spa day together?”
“Complete with mani-pedis.”
More thundering laughter. “Cool. Yeah. Let’s meet. You plannin’ on seeing that waitress again when you’re here?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Uh, that’s actually who I’m out on the road with now. She’s not a waitress anymore. She’s a singer.”
“No shit? That’s cool. I was going to say let’s meet at that diner.”
“That’s fine.” Now that I let him know I’ve already done him a favor, I get to the other reason for the call. “I’m not ridin’ alone. Got a few brothers working security with me.”
“They flyin’ colors?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Shit, Rooster. You’re always welcomed here, you know that.”
“Appreciate it but don’t want to take it for granted, either.”
“Thanks for the head’s up.”
“Anytime.”
We talk for a few more minutes and then hang up.
“Seems like that went well,” Shelby says.
I glance up. “Didn’t realize you were listening in, chickadee.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
I hold out my hand, beckoning her closer. “Didn’t mean it in a bad way. I like that you’re interested in club matters.” Fuck knows, some issues could be avoided in club life if ol’ ladies paid better attention.
“Do you mean that?”
“Of course I do.” I get why she’s skeptical, so I’m not offended by her surprise. “You’re the perfect balance of interested and supportive but not intrusive.”
“Hmm, that might have been the nicest way someone’s told me to stay in my lane.”
“That’s not quite how I meant it.”
“I’m just messin’ with you.” She taps my shoulder. “So that was the president of the club runnin’ most of Texas now?”
“Yup, just lettin’ him know we’re riding through.”
“Like Red Storm shoulda done up in Washington?”
“Yes, although we have a better relationship with Savage Dragons than we do with Red Storm.”
“Got that loud and clear from all of Smoke’s bitching,” she says.
I hold back my laughter. I knew she’d been listening.
“So,” she continues, “is it possible Pony mighta told them to pound sand if they tried callin’ him?”
Interesting question. “I’m not sure what decision Pony would’ve made, but they didn’t give him the opportunity.”
“What if Blaise told you to kiss off?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, but what if he did?”
“Then, I’d have to tell the guys not to wear their cuts while riding through their territory.”
“That would be enough?”
I sense what she’s trying to get at with her questions. And hell, I might as well be honest. “It should be. But it would be offensive for Blaise to tell us no—”
“So you guys might do it anyway just to piss him off?”
I run my hand over my chin, considering the question before answering. “When I was younger, yeah, I might’ve. And there are plenty of guys who’ll do stuff like that just to start shit. Prove they have the bigger dick and all that. But it’s disrespectful—”
“And you guys are supposed to be big on respect.”
“Right. You give respect to get respect. Otherwise, it’s like walking into someone’s house, opening their refrigerator, making a snack, and plopping down on their living room couch without asking.”
“Gotcha.” She tilts her head like she needs more time to digest my example. “But older bikers like Smoke seem to think respect should be taken at all costs. He’s breaking into the house, cleaning out the refrigerator, and serving himself a picnic on the living room floor.”
Shit, she got more from that short visit than some brothers figure out in their two or three years of prospecting for the club. “That’s how some of the older members liked to run things. Problem is, that attitude lands a lot of brothers dead or in prison.”
“And for men who value freedom above all else, those are the two worst possible outcomes.”
Jesus Christ, this woman is perfect. I swallow hard and nod. “Exactly. Our national president doesn’t want us causing trouble like that for no reason. It brings too much negative attention.”
“Plus, when you get down to it, it’s childish.”
I rumble with laughter. “Yeah, that too.”
She’s quiet, thoughtful.
“What brought on all the questions?” I ask.
“Learning things.”
“Is that good or bad?” She’s known that the club’s part of my life since we met. It can’t be a deal-breaker now.