Page 92 of The Darkness Within

“Pharo, you’re back!” McCormick exclaims, interrupting my thoughts.

“Good to see you, man,” Stiles adds, clapping the newcomer on the back.

“You, too. You been good?”

“Can’t complain. We’re all hanging in there. Are you still in one piece?”

“They haven’t taken me down yet, brother.”

The dark giant takes a seat next to me. Christ, he smells fantastic. Who is this guy? I’d remember seeing someone like him, and I’ve never been high enough in my life to forget a face like his. Shoulder length, dark, wavy hair, beard scruff covering his high cheekbones and square chin. Golden almond-shaped eyes, and a body built like a linebacker. I may not remember him, but it seems Jax is dying to forget him.

“I’m out,” he calls out, grabbing his tote bag, and pushing to his feet in a hurry.

“Why don’t you sit the fuck down and stop whining like a bitch?” Pharo sneers, his lip curling.

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business,” Jax returns, getting in his face.

Jesus Christ, I definitely missed something. What’s going on between these two?

Stiles jumps to his feet, stepping between them and putting a hand on both their chests. “Everybody sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. Right fucking now.”

With one last look of contempt for each other, both men take their seats.

“I don’t care what happens outside this classroom. That’s your business. You do what you want. But when we step into this room, we leave that shit at the door. This circle is sacred, and within the circle, we’re all brothers and we’re all friends. For sixty minutes twice a week, we have each other’s backs, and if you can’t fucking commit to that, get the fuck up right now and leave, because you’re not a Bitch.”

I know he means to sound inspiring, and also intimidating, laying down the law like that, but does he realize that he ruined it by calling us Bitches? I mean, technically, I guess we are, Bitches with Stitches, but does he realize how it sounds? I guess not because his face still looks deadly serious. Yet I can’t help the fit of laughter I can’t seem to shake off. It starts as a snort, almost a hiccup, but then it becomes repetitive. The harder I try, the harder I laugh.

Brandt and West must have picked up on it as well because now they’re laughing. Fuck, it’s contagious because now Mandy is giggling like a bitch. Thinking the word just makes me laugh harder. I can’t hide it. I give up. Doubled over with my head between my knees, I laugh until tears blur my vision. Someone, I think West, snorts like a pig while laughing.

“I’m a bitch,” McCormick confirms, sounding really happy about it.

Fuck it, I can’t take it. My laughter turns loud, and I sit up because I can’t breathe. Tears stream down my cheeks as I struggle and wheeze to take a deep breath. West’s head falls into Brandt’s lap as he combusts with laughter, and Brandt whacks him on the back.

Stiles clears his throat, glaring at each of us in turn. “You’re not helping. None of you are helping.”

“Don’t mind me,” Jax snides. “I’ll just be over here knitting a bunch of ball gags.”

I fall apart all over again. My stomach and my cheeks ache from laughing so hard. I haven’t laughed like this since before I was deployed. It’s been way too long.

“Gentlemen, let’s get a hold of ourselves and bring this meeting to order,” Riggs says with all seriousness, taking a seat next to Jax.

An hour later, we were on our way to lunch.

“These wings taste like shit,” West bitches. “They’ve got nothing on the Black Mountain Tavern.”

“Agreed.” Brandt makes a face as he swallows and chases the unsavory chicken with a swig of his soda. “Why are we even here?”

“I can’t figure that out either,” Mandy agrees, sucking the grease from his fingers. “These Hooters girls don’t do a thing for any of us.”

“Speak for yourself, nutter buddy. I wasn’t always gay,” West smirks, glancing at Brandt for confirmation. Brandt chuffs.

“Wait for it,” I warn, spotting my target from across the restaurant. He was incoming like a missile—scratch that, like a MOAB—in about three seconds. Two. One.

Impact.

“Hiiiii, welcome to Hooters. I’m Tex, your server. I was just on break, but I’ll be taking over for Charlotte now that I’m back. I see you already got your food, but I figured a bunch of big rowdy boys like yourselves must have big appetites to fill, so I brought some onion rings.” He slides them on the table amidst the used napkins and plates of food.

The effect he has on the rest of the table is better than I could have predicted. Every one of them has their mouth hanging open, slack-jawed with unchewed food. Not that I can blame them. Tex is a showstopper, especially in that skimpy cocktease of a uniform.

---