Page 34 of Sweet Pea

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Callie

After mentally auditioning‘quaint,’ ‘minimalistic,’ and ‘cozy,’ to describe my current surroundings I finally settled on modest. It was certainly better than ‘shithole’ and far cheerier than ‘Guantanamo Bay prison cell.’ I checked my watch. Sweet Pea left me in his room almost a half-hour ago and I was beginning to wonder how much longer I was to be confined in here.

Wait a minute. Am I a prisoner?

I got up and checked the doorknob, which turned and opened with ease, making me feel foolish for thinking Sweet Pea would have locked me in. Or, was my lack of fear the craziest part about all of this? I was currently sitting in the clubhouse of a one-percent biker gang, which meant its members were willing to kill for their club. And although Sweet Pea had covered his patch, I had no idea what he was capable of. Still, though, I had a hard time imagining him harming me in any way.

I closed the door and sat back down on Sweet Pea’s single bed. In addition to feeling foolish and confused, I was also starving. I skipped breakfast in order to wear this outfit comfortably, but now wished that I had snagged a chocolate glazed before Sweet Pea had handed the box of donuts over to Clutch. For now, I’d have to settle for whatever I found in Sweet Pea’s mini fridge.

I opened the door to find three cans of beer, a half-empty jar of olives, and a bottle of expired antibiotics for a patient named “Stinky.” I closed the door and huffed in defeat. So far, this morning had not gone at all as planned. In fact, nothing in my life seemed to be going as planned. Not the Knight case, not my career, and not even my impromptu date with Sweet Pea. I mean, good Lord, look where I was. Somehow, I’d managed to overcomplicate a one-night stand with a biker.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked out loud to no one.

Deciding the smartest move was to leave before things got weirder, and before I could complicate my life any further, I grabbed my purse and jacket and turned for the door just as Sweet Pea returned.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked, seeing I’d gathered my things.

“I probably should,” I said.

“How come?” he asked so innocently it made me want to smack him directly in his big beautiful dumb face.

How come? How come? Maybe because you’re a criminal and I’m sworn to uphold and protect the law. Or perhaps because in my lowest moment I tried to hire you to turn a man into hamburger because apparently, I’ve finally lost my mind.

“I have some things I need to take care of,” I said calmly.

“Alright, but I’d really like you to meet Cowboy before you go,” he said introducing me to the handsome biker standing behind him. He looked to be in his fifties, had salt and pepper hair, a handlebar moustache, and the patch on his vest read BFK PRESIDENT. “Callie Ames, Cowboy.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” I said and took Cowboy’s well-weathered hand.

Cowboy held my hand but said nothing to me. He turned to Sweet Pea and asked, “Clutch is engaged to a doctor, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He sure is,” Sweet Pea replied.

“She ever give you the once over?”

“As a matter of fact, Minus made the whole club get physicals last year.”

“How’d you do on the eye test?”

“Just fine. Why do you ask?”

“Because you said you wanted to introduce me to a lawyer friend of yours, not a super model, and you clearly can’t tell the difference.”

“Alright, smooth talker, that’s enough,” Sweet Pea said, breaking up our handshake.

“Says, who?” I protested.

Cowboy and I chatted briefly about the charity gala and we exchanged contact information before he excused himself, leaving Sweet Pea and me alone in his room.

“Thank you for the introduction,” I said. “Cowboy seems very sweet.”

“He’d do anything for the kids, that’s for sure.”

“I admire his passion and hard work.”

“I’d bet the two of you have a lot in common.”

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