“Do we need to go to the bar?” Vince asked, looking down at the menu.
Charlie shook his head. “They’ll send someone over.”
And someone did come over, though it wasn’t a bartender or barback. Apparently he’d worked up the courage to approach Charlie’s table, and I blinked when I saw it was the leader of the Dairy Queens. He was a large, brutish man in full leathers. He took off his hat as he stood in front of the table, holding it in front of him. He had neck tattoos, and he looked nervous. I didn’t know you could be nervous and have neck tattoos at the same time.
“Charlie,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “It’s good to see you here.”
“I suppose it is,” Charlie said, and I barely bit back the squeal that threatened to explode from my mouth. Who the fuck was this Charlie?
Biker Leader looked ecstatic, as if the casual dismissal was the best thing that had ever happened to him. I’d seen them talking at Jack It before, and it was never like this. They’d been friendly. “I would be honored if you allowed the Dairy Queens to buy your drinks for the night.”
Charlie nodded. “That would be fine. I’ll have the bar put it on your club’s tab.”
“Thank you,” Biker Leader said. He relaxed slightly. He looked at each of us in turn. “Paul. Vince. Corey. Welcome to Build-a-Bear Sweat Shop. If you need anything, just ask.”
He turned around quickly, putting his hat back on as he disappeared into the crowd.
“He knows my name?” I asked, staring after him.
“Of course he does,” Charlie said. “You’re with me. If he didn’t, he would have asked before coming over here. It’s a sign of respect.”
“Is Charlie the head of a crime syndicate?” Vince asked Paul.
“Yes,” Paul said. “He has to be. We can never tell Nana. She would be here in a leather muumuu, and that’s something I’ve never thought about before and never want to again.”
And then he came.
I didn’t know what had happened to him. Last we’d heard, he’d been banished to the pits of Hell after Poco’s closed due to health violations, which he had undoubtedly been a part of. He never came to Jack It because Sandy had threatened his life if he ever showed his face there. And when Helena Handbasket made such a decree, it was made gay law. The bouncers were under strict orders to put their boots into his ass if he ever tried. I always figured he was lurking somewhere in the shadows, waiting for the moment when he could strike. That was the funny thing about pit demons: they always found a way to crawl back when you least expected them to.
He was wearing what amounted to a leather Speedo that barely covered his balls. We were fortunate enough that he apparently was a big believer in manscaping. And aside from two leather bands wrapped around his biceps and chunky boots, that was all he wore.
That and the devilish grin on his face as he stared at Vince.
“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice a silky purr. “We meet again, mi corazón. It is as if the fates have decided we must be together.”
“Santiago,” Paul hissed. He bared his teeth as he made the sign of the cross in front of him.
Santiago ignored him. He leaned forward until his junk was practically resting on the table. He looked up from under his half-lidded eyes, biting his bottom lip seductively. Against my will, I was almost impressed. If I tried that same expression, it would look as if I was trying to eat my own mouth while having a stroke.
“Have you missed me?” Santiago asked. “Because I have missed you. Oh, but don’t fret. I haven’t been pining. No. I have had many lovers while we’ve been separated.”
“Hi, Santiago,” Vince said. “You work here?”
He giggled. “Oh, how would you know that? Have you been asking about me?”
“You’re carrying an empty drink tray and an order pad,” I told him.
He glanced at me, eyeing me up and down before dismissing me. He turned back to Vince. “Yes, I do work here. I am into leather now. As it appears you are. Come, let Santiago make all your wildest dreams come true.”
“Great!” Vince said. “My wildest dream right now would be to have the pineapple drink thingy.”
Santiago was practically crawling on the table now. I almost had to admire how flexible he seemed to be. “That’s it? Not anything involving you, me, and your brother doing something that is illegal in all fifty states?”
Vince looked confused. “Like what? Robbing a bank? I wouldn’t be a very good bank robber. I don’t like guns or making people scared of me or taking something that doesn’t belong to me. Just the drink is fine. Paul, what do you want?”
Santiago blinked, turning his head to look at Paul, as if just now seeing him for the first time. “You are here with your father accountant? Vincent, tax season has come and gone. He doesn’t need to exist again until February of next year, like all tax preparers.” He raised his voice at Paul. “Hello, sir? We do not have bread and butter here. You cannot order that. I remember how much you like it, but I fear that is not an option. You’ll have to eat your own bread at home.”
“I hate you so fucking much,” Paul muttered.