Tash regarded each of us in turn. “It's alright, Pete.” Her voice was silky with curiosity.
I had her now.
The bartender disappeared to wait on another member. Tash's full lips trapped a hanging cigarette as she brought her lighter to it. She pulled the smoke in, long and slow, her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure me out. “That was ballsy for man who knows where he is.” She blew a long line of ghostly white out of the far side of her mouth “Who are you?”
It was the second time she'd asked me. Answering her only seemed right. “Your old man can call me Ronin.” I brushed a hanging strand of her hair behind her ear, then closed the gap between us. I was close enough for her to feel the heat of my breath on her cheek. I looked past her at the fifteen grizzled bikers, all of whom were staring at me. “Now run along, Love. Before I find something thicker for those pink lips to wrap themselves around.”
My audacity left her wide eyed. The corner of her agape mouth betrayed her by wrinkling into the edges of a startled smile. “Are you crazy? They're gonna kill you.” She slipped easily off the stool. Her night had just got a lot more exciting.
“They can try.” I smiled and nodded for her to go.
I was just getting started.
She looked me over, biting the creased side of her lip to stifle a smile before she turned back toward her Devils. She was flirting with danger. I could tell that she was the kind of girl that loved to be the center of attention.
The thought of a man beaten to death for coming on to her must've really gotten her juices flowing.
The Road Devils were a small MC, just west of my club's territory. They weren't openly hostile to us but that was only because they didn't have the members or the firepower to challenge any of our chapters. They were relegated to being just another dwindling remnant of the violent, mid-eighties biker wars. In twenty years, no one would even remember their name.
They knew they were on their way out, too. The Devils were relics of the badass bikers of old. They didn't even try to blend with their community, instead they lived out the old days as fast and as often as they could, waiting for the end. Spiteful, racist and pissed off at the 'perversion' of the old ways; the Road Devils had cultivated a deadly reputation for dealing with anyone foolish enough to cross their path.
I was very much looking forward to meeting them.
Tash sat on the lap of her old man and relayed what had happened during our talk; her opinions of me, whatever they were. The old man, who looked to be almost three times her age, nodded, never breaking eye contact with me. He was a gnarly-looking, bearded, long haired man that had gone completely gray. He was obviously their president.
Had the old man thought I was a just reckless nobody, they'd have rushed over to stomp me the second I leaned in to get a taste of Tash's perfume. The table he and three other members sat around was bigger and nicer than the rest. They probably used it as their meeting place when they called church, deciding things on behalf of the club.
Tash was pushed off onto her own chair while the men discussed how they wanted to handle me. She beckoned me with sultry glances, daring me to be suicidally brave enough to pursue her. Lucky for her, I was in a brave mood. I was only in that bar to get my dick sucked and to win some money. I didn't care which came first, as long as I came eventually.
Those two things would only happen if I went to church and sat down with the Devils. I stood up, downed the rest of my beer and slowly made my way across the smokey room toward them. No one approached an outlaw biker gang on their home turf without being invited first.
I wasn't no one, and I was done waiting around for them to fucking deliberate.
Hang-arounds—friends of the Devils MC and patrons who understood the pecking order in the bar—gave me the wide berth of a plague victim. They saw me as an oblivious dead man out for a casual stroll along the green mile, every foot fall bringing me one step closer to execution.
They didn't know if it was courage or stupidity that guided me to the ominous table that was meant only for patch holders, but whatever it was, they knew it was contagious in the eyes of the brutal Road Devils, and they sure as hell didn't want to be standing next to me when shit got really ugly.
There were no free seats where the bikers were, so I grabbed the back of a chair from a nearby table. The man sitting in it quickly shot up to let me have it. I cocked my head towards him in thanks. Not a step away, I realized that I was still thirsty and the bartender wasn't going to be coming over unless the Devils called on him. I doubted they'd do that just for me. Left without a drink, I took the generous man's beer off of him as well before parking the chair next to Tash at the Devils' table.