Page 5 of Macon

Bossy bitch. I like it.

I keep my eyes locked with hers, trying to figure her out, her expression giving away nothing. I lift the joint to my lips, light it, and take a big draw, exhaling the smoke straight into her face.

She breaks our standoff, closing her eyes and inhaling.

I smile.

“You good?” I say after the smoke is gone.

When she doesn’t reply, I take another drag, blowing it in her face again.

She opens her eyes, and at the same time, her lips form a big smile.

I hand her the joint and ask again, “Are you good?”

She lifts it to her lips, licking them before taking a drag. My cock jumps to life.

Easy, boy, I tell myself to calm down.

That mouth and bossy attitude is what caught my eye the other day. She and her other friend, Vi, came whirling into our meeting like a fucking tornado. Mouthing off, thinking we were hurting their other friend, Lee. Little did they know our boy Dallas fell for his doctor, and we’re protecting her.

It was a cluster fuck, but damn, her storming into a room full of bikers to defend her girl was insane and hot as fuck.

“I will be after a few hits.” She breathes out smoke.

“Joker,” by Steve Miller Band, blares through the club, and I chuckle. It couldn’t be a more perfect song for my mood right now.

I relax into the chair and survey the club, drinking my beer. We sit like this for a few minutes, taking turns smoking.

“Are you okay with everything that’s happened the last few days?” I ask, curious if she’s freaking out or just having a bad day.

I’ve seen her arguing with Vi, and with everything going on, she seems pissy.

I look over and see the weed’s doing its job of relaxing her.

“So many secrets. How can anyone keep up with all the lies?” she rambles, lost in thought.

When I don’t answer, she continues, “I’m just so tired of keeping up the act.”

What the fuck is she talking about? I know the club has so many questions about her and Vi, with everything going on with the Chingas drive-by today and Ronny from the Black Crows in town. It’s chaos around here. I want to ask her more, but she’s talking about secrets, so I shut my mouth and let her vent.

I take a drag off the joint. Before I hand it back, I ask, “Act?”

She grabs the joint, waving it in front of us. “Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Are you putting on an act here? Right now?” I ask, looking her in the eyes, hoping for a glimpse of anything.

She shakes her head, taking a pull from the joint.

I stay quiet, hoping she’ll give me more.

“This is actually the first time I feel like myself,” she murmurs.

“What about your boyfriend? You can’t be yourself around him?” I ask curiously.

She huffs. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

Okay, trouble in paradise. Duly noted.

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