Page 74 of Busted Dreams

“Angel called yesterday,” Jonah broke in.

“Oh, yeah? What did he say?” Beck sat back and turned toward him.

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t answer it.” He seemed like he wanted to say more, but kept quiet.

“Jonah, at some point, you’re going to have to decide if you want them in your life or not, but until then, at least give them the courtesy of picking up the phone.” Beck sounded disappointed, and Jonah looked properly chastised.

“I know they didn’t have anything to do with my mother going to prison. Now, anyway. But it’s still really hard to reconcile in my head. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t entertain coming over here at all.” Jonah clasped his hands together between his legs. “But I know what you’re saying, and I won’t count them out. They at least seem like they’re trying.” He winced as if it physically hurt him to admit that.

“Good. Give them a shot. If they turn out to be crazy assholes, I’ll support you one hundred percent. But until then, you have to put up with Angel’s interfering ass.” Beck grinned playfully and shoved Jonah’s shoulder.

“Here we are,” Rhys said as he turned down the long driveway. Tons of motorcycles were already parked all across the gravel field. It was a sea of chrome and leather, winking in the sunlight. We were all snug in winter coats and hats. These men must have really been dedicated to ride their bikes in such cold weather. At least snow melted within a day here.

And I had to admit, the dire atmosphere was missing in the light of day. Now it just seemed like a sad abandoned building.

Beck grabbed my hand as I climbed out and started leading us around the building toward the high wooden privacy fence. “This way. Angel said just to come on back.”

“Wait up!” Thatcher called from somewhere behind us. We turned around to see him and Trinity trotting from the back of the field. They must have wanted to wait for us. Smart move. I wouldn’t want to bust into a motorcycle family picnic without an actual member of the family either.

Once they caught up with us, Beck opened the latch on the gate and swung it wide for us to enter. Classic rock music blared from speakers placed around the fence, and people were lounging, eating, and talking.

They looked…normal.

“Beck, how upset would they be if I took some pictures while I was here? Nothing for evidence or blackmail, but just to document life?” I whispered into his shoulder.

“I’d say don’t do it. Not until we’ve been here a couple times and they trust you,” he whispered back.

Noted. First picnics were not a good time.

A clear plastic tarp had been rolled out over the top of the fence, closing us in from the cold. Fairy lights were strung up in random patterns above us, bringing a little bit of softness to the place. In the daylight, they didn’t shed much light, but at night, I bet they transformed this place into a magical biker paradise. Then I snorted at the image of so many tough bikers under the delicate fairy lights.

“Beck! Jonah!” Graves was standing over by the grill with a beer bottle in his hand and a spatula in the other. “Astrid! It’s great to see you.” He handed the spatula over to a kid who looked only a few years older than me and walked our way with outspread arms.

“Hey, Graves.” Beck nodded and tugged me forward. “Thanks for letting us invite some friends. I’ll introduce you.” Thatcher and Rhys both stepped up beside us. “This is Thatcher. He’s a friend of mine I met at Tippy’s. Right now, he’s a starving artist slash college student.” Beck grinned as Graves shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, kid. Say, we’ve been thinking about doing some murals on the walls of the club. Maybe you can show us what your work looks like later. If it’s a fit, we’ll talk about the job later if you’re interested.”

Thatcher shook his hand a little more vigorously than I’d thought he would. “Hey, that would be awesome. After the cookout, of course.”

Then Beck motioned to Trinity. “This is Thatcher’s little sister, Trinity.”

She strutted up shoulder to shoulder with Beck and gave Graves, a man old enough to be her dad, an obvious come-hither look. Why would she do that?

The entire vibe of this space was family-oriented. Didn’t she see that? I had picked up on it within one minute of walking past the gate. And the looks the women were throwing her way were nasty and borderline confrontational. If she didn’t dial it down, she was going to be educated real quick.

Graves’ jolly and open expression immediately shut down as he stared at Trinity. “I don’t know you, but this is for families only. So if you’re trying to be a club slut rather than a family member, you’re not welcome here.”

She gasped and took a step back.

I wasn’t even surprised Graves didn’t hesitate to lay it out for her. The club seemed to always lay it out straight and not blink twice. They ran this place, so why would they be concerned about what people thought when they spoke their mind?

Trinity didn’t say anything else, adopting a sullen look as she turned away from Graves.

“Why did you bring your sister?” he asked Thatcher.

“My dad passed recently. I have custody now.”

Graves whistled. “Sorry, son, I can see you’re going to have your hands full.”

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