Page 100 of Spike

Jenson nodded.

“I think if youwant to be part of the club officially, it’ll be amazing.” I smiled. “Who areyou going to ask to vouch for you?”

“I was thinkingabout talking to Spike. Do you think he’d do it?”

“If he doesn’t, Iwill murder him.” I chuckled. “But you know he will.”

Spike and Jensonhad become like brothers and it was the most amazing thing watching the two ofthem together. We tried to do some kind of family dinner once a week withMattias and Ronnie, either at their place or ours, then Jenson and Spike had astanding beer night while I went out with Gemma.

Then, of course,there was usually some kind of a girls’ night with the club women, which we allcalled, ‘bible study’ since Wednesday nights were ‘church’ for the men. We’dgone so far as to start referring to ourselves as the ‘church ladies,’ much tothe chagrin of our men. It amused us immensely, so it wasn’t changing anytimesoon.

Jenson grinned.“I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“Perfect,” I said.

“I’ll let youfinish your shit. Am I walking you down?” he asked.

I shook my head.“I think Spike’s picking me up and we’re eating before.”

“Okay, sissy, I’llsee you there.”

I nodded, and heheaded back behind the curtains.

Luckily, I wasbusy enough that my mind was occupied, which meant the rest of the day flew byquickly.

** *

“Baby, where arewe goin’?” Spike asked as I led him away from my car.

“This way.”

“I thought youwanted to go home and take a hot bath.” He squeezed my hand as we walked.

“Oh, I do, but wejust need to make a quick stop first.” I smiled up at him. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, baby.Do what ya gotta do.”

We continued downthe sidewalk, ending at Room 191 Gallery.

“An art gallery?”Spike asked, pulling the door open for me.

“Yes, Gemma’sfriend owns it.”

“You buyin’ someart?”

“Something likethat,” I said, evasively.

He cocked his headand followed me in, then stalled as his gaze swept the space. His sculptureswere meticulously staged around the room and they looked incredible.

“Jesus,” hebreathed out. “What’s going on, Trixie?”

“Oh my gosh,please don’t be mad,” I begged.

“What is this? Ineed you to start talking, honey.”

“Gemma’s friend ownsthis place, like I said, and I asked Gemma to talk to him about maybe givingyou a showing. I took some photos of your stuff and sent it to him and he wentgaga over it, wanting all of it, so I made a plan with the guys to move itwithout you knowing and here we are.” The words flew out of my mouth like anauctioneer, ending with a triumphant, “Tada.”

“You brought allof my sculptures here?”

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