Page 1 of Fletch

One

Fletch

“Last on the agenda is . . .” Axel, my President, looks down at his notes, “a police raid. Expected anytime this weekend.” He shrugs, looking up and scanning the brothers sitting around his table. “Any personal use found is on you.”

“Get rid of everything,” Grizz, our Vice President, cuts in. “They’re looking for any excuse at the minute, and I’m fucking sick of it. Clear your rooms of anything that could get you a fine or even a warning.”

“Any other business?” asks Axel.

“Actually, I need someone to help me at The Bar tonight for a private function,” says Grizz. We all look away, avoiding eye contact. “It’s a hen do, fifteen women, drunk, excited and—” My hand is already up, along with most of the other brothers, and Grizz laughs. “Fletch, I’ll take you.”

“He always gets the good jobs,” Atlas complains, and I smirk. But we all know Grizz isn’t picking me ‘cause we get on well—he doesn’t wanna leave me here unattended around his old lady, Luna. Not that I’d ever go there again now he’s claimed her, but she was once a club girl, which means she’s fucked her way around the club, and lord knows she was memorable. We were building a connection, one that was severed when Grizz decided to claim her.

He throws me a set of keys, and I catch them. “You head over and stock up. I gotta bathe Ivy and then I’ll be over.” We all know he never misses bathtime with his baby girl, so I stuff the keys in my pocket.

Axel slams the gavel on the table, indicating the end of church, and we all head out.

Atlas falls in step beside me. “I’ll come help,” he tells me with a wink.

I restock the fridges behind the bar while Atlas sits staring at his mobile. “You gonna help or what?”

He looks up. “I’m here for the drunk pussy, brother.”

I roll my eyes and check my watch. It’s almost opening. “You may as well open the door,” I tell him, and he grins, jumping up to do as I’ve asked.

Three women enter first. They’re already singing and swaying, which tells me the hen do already started. The middle woman has a ‘Bride’ sash on, so I give good eye contact and smile wide. “Welcome, ladies,” I greet. “What can I get you?”

The bride-to-be slams her hands on the bar and bites her lower lip before winking and slurring, “Whatever you’re offering.”

I laugh, grabbing the bottle of Prosecco that was already on ice. “Bubbles?”

A few more women enter, but my attention is firmly on the blonde bride. Something about that last night of freedom turns me on. Atlas joins me behind the bar and begins serving the second group while I take care of the first. I offer to carry their tray of drinks to a nearby table, and as I set it down and they take a seat, I turn the charm up a dial. “Anna, right?” I ask, handing the bride-to-be her drink. Luckily, I’d already checked the bookings. Grizz likes things to be personal so the customer feels important.

She picks out the raspberry floating on top and pops it in her mouth. “And you are?”

“Fletch.”

She grins. “Fletch,” she repeats, letting my name roll off her tongue, “are you married?”

I shake my head, lowering into a spare seat. “Don’t believe in that shit.”

“Amen to that,” her friend says, leaning closer to get my attention.

Anna pulls her back by the arm. “Hey, this is my night, remember,” she snaps, and her friend rolls her eyes and snatches a drink from the tray.

I grin. “Don’t fight, ladies, there’s plenty of me to go around.”

“I bet,” comes a woman’s voice from behind. I glance up, and she’s staring at her friend with her hands on her hips. Her sash reads ‘Bridesmaid’. “She’s getting married next month, so move on, lover boy.”

I stand, unable to stop the grin. “Don’t I know you?”

“I hope not,” she mutters, taking my seat and turning her back to me. I head back to the bar, racking my brain to try to remember where I recognise her from.

By the time Grizz arrives, the rest of the party is filling the bar and the karaoke is in full swing. He winces as he shrugs from his kutte and hangs it behind the bar. “Jesus, who’s idea was it to put the machine on?”

“Atlas,” I say, rolling my eyes. “They’ve paid the extra.”

I spot the bridesmaid stepping out the bar, and I remove the tea-towel from my shoulder and hand it to Grizz. “Taking my break,” I throw over my shoulder as I head out.

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