The members clomped out of the room. Hawk turned to join them when Banger said, “Hawk, hold up a second. I want to go over some particulars.”
Hawk nodded, and the two waited until the members left to have some fun and drinks in the great room.
“I’ll go with you when we finalize the deal. The president of the United Revolutionary Army is coming and out of respect, I need to go.”
“Okay, that’s cool. I’ll let you know the details as soon as I have them. I’ll get on it right away.” Hawk glanced at his phone. “Anything else you wanna go over? I gotta get back to the shop. A customer is coming to pick up his custom bike, and I wanted to add a few last touches.”
Banger rubbed his face with his hand. “How does Cara know Belle?”
“Belle?”
“You know, the cook at Ruthie’s.”
“Oh, yeah. Fuck, I meant to tell you that I’m sorry my old lady meddled in your business. I had no idea Cara was matchmaking when we went. The cook’s daughter has some minor shit going on with the law, and Cara’s her attorney. I told her to leave you the fuck alone, but you know Cara—the more I tell her not to do something, the more she wants to do it. Fuck.”
“No need to apologize. Your old lady is one clever woman. I liked Belle, but not so sure it’s mutual. I think it is, but she’s acting fuckin’ skittish.” Banger shrugged.
“You starting to pine for this one? Fuck, you even got the pansy-ass shrug going.” Hawk laughed, and Banger joined in, even though dormant feelings stirred inside him.
He and Hawk walked together to the great room before Hawk clapped him on the shoulder. “Gotta go, man.”
Banger nodded while he looked around the room. Groups of men talked, drank, and groped the club whores and hoodrats who had come to party. He spotted a bunch of scantily clad women who were only a few years older than Kylie, and a sadness like he hadn’t felt in a long time gripped and squeezed his heart.
“I’m heading out too,” he said to Hawk. For reasons he couldn’t articulate, he didn’t want to spend another night drinking Jack and beer, screwing a woman who was young enough to be his daughter, and talking bullshit with the brothers. He just couldn’t do it. Not that night. He walked out with Hawk and, with shoulders slumped and head bent, he approached his Harley.
“Hey, do you wanna come to the shop with me? I could use your eye with this custom job.”
Banger jerked his head up. “Sure. I’d love to see the way you’re customizing the dude’s Harley. Fuck, you’ve been working on it for a couple weeks now.”
“Yeah. It’s been a fuckin’ good time.” Hawk put on his black gloves. “After I close up, why don’t you come over to my place for dinner? Cara’s making lasagna.”
Banger’s eyes lit up. “I’ll take you up on the offer. You two still playing musical houses?”
“Fuck, yeah. Her parents, especially her mom, wouldn’t be cool if they knew we were living together. I can’t wait for the bullshit to stop. I go along with it to keep the peace.”
“When will the house you’re building be ready?” Banger swung his leg over his bike and settled on the leather seat.
“We just hired Baylee to design it. After we get married, we’ll sell both our houses and move in. Can’t fuckin’ wait.”
They revved their engines and took off toward downtown Pinewood Springs.
A few hours later, Banger sat comfortably on the couch in front of a blazing fireplace, munching on the cheese and crackers Cara had set out on the coffee table. He took a swig of his beer and popped in a few cashews as he looked around the room. Once Hawk’s domain, Cara had definitely added her feminine touch, with dried floral arrangements and punches of pink decorative accents. He snorted, knowing how Hawk must hate the additions.
“Do you want another beer?” Cara asked as she set down a plate of salami, pickles, green and black olives, and roasted red peppers.
“Sure do, thanks. Fuck, this looks good.” He leaned over and grabbed a few slices of salami.
He watched Cara go into the kitchen and saw Hawk loop his arm around her as she passed him, bringing her close. She giggled and Hawk brought his mouth down on hers. As Banger watched them kissing passionately, a stab of loneliness pierced through him. In that instant, the ache he’d carried in his heart since Grace had died was acute, and the back of his eyes burned. What the fuck is up with me? He turned around and stared into the fire.
Hawk came over with a bottle of Coors and handed it to him. Banger, grateful for the distraction from his thoughts, took a long pull of his beer. He and Hawk talked Harleys until Cara told them to come for dinner.