Page 6 of Manny

“Something smells good.”

I look up and see Harlem, the NOLA Rebels club Enforcer, lounging in the doorway. He might seem scary to some with his larger-than-life build; the man was built like a Buick, but he’s a pussycat underneath. Well, to those who are on his good side. I can’t say the same for anyone else. The man is not someone I’d like to run into in a dark alley if I could help it. But Harlem took me in when I was down and out. He took a chance on me when Stella, his daughter, and I became fast friends when I turned up at the Soup Kitchen. It’s run by some good people at the local church and Priest and Bella are there all the time. Priest is the club’s Chaplain and spiritual advisor, Bella is his ol’ lady. Stella likes art too and that’s how we got talking one day. She was kind to me and didn’t judge. I was too proud to ask Shep for help, wanting to make it on my own, and later he kicked my ass for not saying something. I’ve never wanted a handout, but in a lotof ways the Soup Kitchen saved my life. Harlem helped set me up with cooking classes to refine my skills, and the rest is history. The club hired me after I fed them my famous gumbo, followed by berry cobbler, and I had them in the palm of my hands.

The club Prez, Cash, isn’t always the most agreeable man, but this whole club is like a family to me. Accepting me and all my eccentricities. Not judging me because I’m a little different. They’ve no idea how much they saved me.

When I left high school, I bummed around, lying to Shep when he’d check in on me. I’d convinced myself that Shep was going places, and I didn’t want to halt that progress. Really, it was an excuse to get out of my hometown and away from my abusive parents. I’d felt enough shame over high school without delving into that with my unlikely friend. Still, Shep’s loyalty never wavered. He’s currently signed with the Dallas Cowboys, and still, to this day, is one of my best friends.

The delicious waft of my famous beef and bourbon pie permeates the kitchen; the rich, hearty dish is a favorite of the club’s. You can’t really beat steak, red wine and garlic wrapped up in a buttery pastry and baked for sixty minutes, resting for two hours after.

“You know, I only bake for good boys, H, and your ol’ lady tells me that you’ve not been a very good boy lately.” His ol’ lady, Indigo, and all the ol’ ladies of the club are some of my best friends. We’re in a group chat that the boys, except me, aren’t privy to.

“She been tellin’ tales about me again?”

I tap my nose. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Lucky I know you’re just friends with my ol’ lady, a man might get the wrong impression.”

I snort. “Yeah, I like my nutsack exactly where it is.”

The club knows I’m bi. I don’t have a preference, but I’ve been more into men than women lately, not that I’ve gottenmy pole wet in a while. This damn club is so demanding and needy it makes it difficult to have any free time. Still, they pay me ridiculously well, and I have my own apartment now, something I never thought would ever happen when I’ve always been told I’d amount to nothing. I’ve also got a new roommate, someone I’m kinda crushing on, but she’s not looking at starting something. I’ve been around the block a time or two, and casual hook-ups aren’t my thing, though, everyone in the club would likely tell you differently. The guys like to keep up appearances, even when most of them are pussy whipped. I chuckle at the thought, and Harlem cocks a brow.

“You good?”

I wave him off. “Get your butt over here and try this. You know I always give you the biggest serving, that is, until Tag barges his way in here and gobbles the entire tray.” Tag is the club’s Sergeant At Arms, and even bigger and scarier than Harlem. His ol’ lady Luna and I are close, as well as Cash’s ol’ lady Deanna, who I nicknamed Arizona because that’s where she hails from. You could say, I’m a bit of a shoulder to cry on for the ladies and some of the guys.

I don’t mind. It’s nice to be needed, and it’s the only respect I’ve ever gotten, aside from Shep. I’d die for this club.

“Tag is a greedy fuck, that’s why.” He moves toward me and I happily divide up the huge baking dish and plop a piece on the nearby plate. It makes me happy feeding people. Like it’s my mission in life.

I watch him take a bite, and even though he’s had this very same pie a million times, he still groans when the first mouthful hits his taste buds. “You’re a genius.”

“Say that a little louder, when the boss is present.”

He smirks. “You know I’m gonna have to work harder at the gym to work off all this food.”

I roll my eyes. “Really, H? You’re in fine form, and Indi loves you just as you are. I wouldn’t worry your precious cotton socks over a little pastry.”

Out of nowhere, he points a fork at me, as if suddenly remembering why he’s here. “You know anythin’ about Stella and Callaghan?” The question comes out of nowhere. Of course I know about it. She tells me everything.

Cale Callaghan is a police officer who likes to try and make the club’s life hell. He’s also easy on the eyes, and a few months back, he and Stella were seen by Tag and Riot, the Club’s Secretary, having an intimate conversation. Of course, Tag nipped that in the bud and ordered Callaghan out of his workshop. Stella’s only nineteen, and Callaghan is twenty-six. He and Cash don’t exactly like one another, and the boss is convinced the young cop is ready to bring this club down. What Callaghan has probably discovered by now is that the club isn’t 1%. We don’t do illegal shit. Okay, not saying the club doesn’t get involved in making people disappear and hand out their own personal justice from time to time, but they don’t sell drugs, guns or traffic humans. In fact, the club is deadly against the latter.

“About him snoopin’ around Tag’s workshop? That was ages ago.”

He gives me a stern look, which I ignore, pretending to busy myself with the next tray of steaming goodness coming out of the oven. “Not that. Him and Stella. Are they doin’ anythin’?”

I balk. “I doubt she’d be getting involved with someone like Cale Callaghan, H. He’s also by the book, he wouldn’t be doing anything until she’s older. Which means you have a couple more years yet.”

“That supposed to be funny?”

I shrug. “No, but it’s the truth.” What I don’t tell him is that Stella has a major crush on him, and if anyone was gonna pursue anything between them two, it would be her.

“Long as you are tellin’ me the truth. I know the ladies around here got you under their thumb.”

I laugh out loud, almost dropping the tray as I set it down on the cooling rack. “That’s a good one. They may think that, but we all know it isn’t dick that makes the world go around here, it’s my cooking.” I can say that with absolute certainty and not feel like a douchebag saying it.

Harlem snorts, going back to his food. “You make a good point.”

I lean on the counter. “Don’t you know I’ve earned my stripes now after rescuing Riot that time not so long ago?”

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