Bad Boys of Romance(194)
Don’t get me wrong, if I’d left, I’d be on a fishing boat in Alaska or something, not wearing a cut with high heels with pink fire coming out of them, even though Hell on Heelz allowed men. Jason Reed, otherwise known as Sugar Hips, claimed to be their one male member. He didn’t count in my book because he might as well be a lady. He rode beside us on his ape hangers as if triggered by my thought, sticking out his tongue before he joined Shirley up ahead. Emery hugged my waist tighter, bringing me further into the present and there was nothing but the wind, the road and the bugs in my teeth until nightfall.
Wish
We gathered like moths to the lights off the interstate to eat. It’d been a while since I’d taken to the road. I felt revived but hungry as hell. Good thing it was all you can eat. “I don’t eat pizza,” Emery admitted, piling her salad plate high. I’d filled up on deep-dish pepperoni while Emery enjoyed her veggies. Sometimes it takes a whole tankful of fuel before you can think straight. I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to take Emery to The Banshee’s home anymore, but I couldn’t back out now.
“Why don’t you live a little?” I slid my plate toward her.
She picked off the pepperonis and patted the pizza with a napkin before taking a tiny bite. I looked down, amused but hiding my smile. Emery was like no one I’d ever met. I didn’t understand a woman who wouldn’t eat. The place didn’t serve beer, but it was just as well because we’d ride on to Shirley’s place for our real celebrating. Leaving the pizzeria, the Heelz picked the folks they wanted to take back with them and told the others to keep their knees in the breeze.
On a couple hundred acres beside the lake in Seville, Florida The Banshee led her own community. Like my brothers and I in Arizona, the Heelz treasured their home away from home and like I had, some of the women lived here year round. Seville looked like hell with everyone gone to lunch. On the main road of her property, Shirley ran a no name bar slash gas station slash grocery store that catered to club members and their guests. Opening the doors, the smell of weed, smoke and sweaty leather hit me. You’d never know it was a female biker gang’s place if you didn’t already know. The Heelz kept plenty of tough looking men around. Right away, I spotted a couple Mutherfukers and straightened my back.
“Molly?” Shirley offered us her new favorite drug as soon as Emery and I joined her at the bar.
“No thanks,” I said as I reached for her open beer, taking a drink.
“Get Scar and his lady friend a drink, Twink.”
“What do you want,” a petite Asian woman with full sleeves of colorful tattoos appeared behind the bar. In a revealing dress instead of a cut, she was one of Shirley’s hang arounds.
“Just a couple of beers.” I put my arm around Emery.
The tiny woman stared me down. “Where’s Kym?” She addressed Shirley, and Shirley looked to me.
I gave Shirley a telling look. “Can I talk to you in private?”
“That’s not how it works here Scar.” Shirley sat down her beer. “No back room deals. You need to answer Twink, she asked you a question.”
Twink cocked her head. “Yeah, why’s this bitch wearing my sister’s clothes, her diamond earrings.”
I stood, and seized the back of the girl’s head. “You better watch how you talk about my lady.” I slammed her forehead into the bar, knocking her out. Twink’s limp body slinked to the floor, landing with a low thud.
“Fuck, Scar, for a minute I thought you’d gone soft.” Shirley eyed Emery and took my hand. “I think we will talk in private, excuse us sweetheart.” Shirley led me through the waves of sweaty bikers until we reached a locked door. She paused, telling someone to, “take care of the girl at the bar.”
“You better mean get her a drink.” I sat down in Shirley’s high backed leather chair and propped my feet up on her desk.
Right away, she took off her cut, next, the tank top. She started taking off her leather pants. “I’m not the jealous type, babe. I’m just worried for you.”
“You, worried for me? I’m worried for you seeing as your girl Kym sold me out in Daytona.”
Shirley slipped down her thong, flinging it away with her big toe. “What?”
“Yeah, but no matter, Amun’s dead.” I reached in my pocket, pulling out his signature pinky ring, tossing it on the desk; I’d left the finger attached. She slapped her hand over her mouth, acting disgusted. I rolled my eyes; she’d seen worse, done worse, bitch forgot, I knew her. “Why don’t you sit? We have to talk”