In my head, I start to imagine what it would be like to follow it.
Beck
Chapter 4
I wake up the next morning madder than a wet hen.
Melissa left me high and dry last night, and I didn't find a damn soul to share my bed with. I knew it. I really do hate the damn beach.
“Toast and fuckin' jam?” I laugh, slapping Gaine in the back of head. “What happened to waking up to a nice cold one?” My friend swipes some dark hair from his face as he glares up at me. Around the edges of his mouth, a smile flits, just waitin' for a word from his sweetheart. I move my gaze over to Mireya and her dark hair, her perfect body, bronzed skin. Damn, boy, you hit the motherloving jackpot. If I had to be chained to one woman for the rest of my life, I'd hope she was as hot as Mireya Sawyer.
“Listen, you dick,” she says, a slight accent clinging to her lips. “This is as close to a honeymoon as I'm ever going to get, so fuck off and leave us alone.” I chuckle as I take a sip of my beer. Mireya rolls her pretty eyes and flips me the bird, returning to her picture perfect little breakfast. This hotel we're staying in is too fancy for my likin'. There were a dozen or more miniature soaps on my bathroom counter this morning, all of 'em in fuckin' French. Boy, I am out of my element here. Gimme a quick spray down and a ride through the countryside and I'm a happy, happy man. But toast and jam? I don't fucking think so.
“Y'all used to be fun. Been married a couple o' days, and you're already gettin' complacent. I might have to whoop your asses into shape.” I take another swig of beer and watch as Gaine bites down hard on a piece of toast, smiling as he does it, giving me a look that speaks volumes. He's happy. Fucking happy. I look back at Mireya and then over at Austin and Amy's table. They're all grinning like fools, oblivious to the facts o' life. Oh well. That's why I'm here.
Even if it kills me, I will defend my stupid ass friends to the death. That's a mistake I've learned hard and well before. That whole saying, you don't really miss it until it's gone. That's truer than a politician's lie. If I lost even a single one of these fuckwads, I'd be a broken man.
“Enjoy your married bliss while it lasts. 'Fore you know it, the two of you will be sexless old biddies, spending your evenings watching the Travel Channel.” I slap Gaine in the back and cause him to choke on his fucking tea, laughing my way over to Kimmi's table and plopping down in the empty seat across from her. She doesn't look at me, just keeps her eyes glued to Austin's table. Amy and Christy are sitting next to each other, giggling and perusing a travel guide. It's such a domestic scene, I choke on my beer and have to shake my head to clear it. Peace. I'm almost allergic to it at this point in my life. I grew up with a militaristic daddy, rules instead of hugs, and a mother who acted more like a soldier. Then I joined the military, got discharged, ended up in an MC with more rules than the Marine Corps, and eventually found my way to Triple M. I'm not used to quiet in-betweens, no sir.
But I sure can make jokes about 'em.
“Staring at her tits or her soul, Reynolds? You look like a Goddamn stalker.”
“Screw you, Beck,” Kimmi says, drawing her green eyes back to mine and raising her beer up. We clink brown glass and drink deep. No omelets or French toast for me and my last, single friend. “What's on your agenda today? Didn't seem like you had much going on last night.” I lean back in my chair and match her smile, tooth for tooth.
“Oh, please, Reynolds. When I walked by your room last night, I heard the porn blasting at full volume. Don't pretend your bed was any warmer than mine.” Kimmi just sighs and shakes her head, but she doesn't deny my accusations. No point in trying. I know that woman like I know the back of my hand. With a smirk, I set my drink down and run my hands over the front of my leather vest. There's a girl across the room with a book in hand. And on the cover? A biker, baby. Got this one in the bag. I scoot my chair back and watch Kimmi glare at me.
“Already tried the bitch. Straight as an arrow.”
“Your loss, my gain, sugar pie,” I tell her as I stand up and start across the restaurant. The sun is out in force today, sending soldiers of light across the light blue carpeting, the antiqued wooden tables. The dining room is filled with Triple M'ers, but it's quiet in here, calm. Some of it's got to do with the fight with Bested by Crows. There's a subdued quality in the air, and some sorrow, too. Our wounded are well taken care of, though, and we didn't lose a damn man. Not a single fucking one. How's that for bitchin'? Beck Evans knows how to take care of his soldiers.
My fingers itch for a cigarette as I pause next to the table with the curvy brunette.
It takes her a minute to glance up at me, a red straw locked between her teeth as her eyes grudgingly separate from the black text. When she sees me standing there, her eyes go wide as saucers.