Page 6 of Playing for Keeps

I woke up this morning, lowkey sad over my dream girl’s rejection and wondering if I could one day eat shit by obeying my brother.

Now, I get the girl and the president spot!

No longer doubting my good luck, I leave the meeting with McGraw and ride away from Basin Rock Bar with myuncles—Court and Donovan—along with my brother West and cousin Ike. We travel the twenty-plus minutes along the back roads from Basin Rock to our clubhouse—The Rock Tavern—in Tumbling Rock.

“What the fricking fuckery was that?” West asks me as soon as we arrive.

“I claimed the future president spot for the Blood-Red Suns. Oh, and I get my dream girl.”

“You idiot,” West sneers before his slightly-less-handsome-than-mine face freezes. “McGraw’s slutty daughter is your dream girl?”

Outraged by his completely understandable question, I shove my brother. “How dare you call my future wife a whore?”

“You did.”

“As her future husband, I insist she be referred to as ‘vaginally daring.’ Hm, pussy-licious would also work.”

Standing dark and imposing for a man of his age, Uncle Court demands, “Would you two shut the hell up?”

“He started it,” I whine dramatically.

Though West wants to smirk so damn badly, he manages to hold onto his angry, future-president scowl by the skin of his teeth.

“This is good, right?” I ask my uncle who stares at me like I’m a dumbass. “Rawkfist will have a second chapter.”

“Those guys will never obey you.”

“Of course, they will. I’ll rule with an iron first. McGraw can show me how he does stuff. I’ll imitate him like I grew up imitating my dad and uncles. Oh, and King Peepaw.”

Uncle Court rubs hard at his bearded jaw, hearing my words rather than paying attention to how I keep shoving West.

“I wasn’t expecting him to want us to patch over his club,” he says, likely talking to Uncle Donovan more than me. “They havea chapter in Florida. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Giving up on putting my six-foot-four brother in a headlock, I explain to my uncle, “If you don’t want to patch them over, I’ll convince him to just align with us.”

“Convince him how, exactly? Did you miss how much he hated you?”

“He was cranky about handing his club to someone else and marrying off his daughter. Once he gets to know me, the man will weep with joy to have me in his family.”

“Did you know how this would play out?” Court asks, moving closer and going intimidating-president on my fine ass. “You know his daughter. Did she give you info that you didn’t share?”

My thoughts flash back to Lola McGraw sucking on my tongue in her tricked-out truck. She was so beautiful that I couldn’t believe she was real. I was already picking baby names when she threw a monkey wrench in our awesomely-ever-after by telling me no.

I’d been shocked, of course. Women love me! Old, young, fugly, hot, doesn’t matter. Women simply adore what I bring to the table. I’m naturally handsome and, oh my God, my smile is made out of sunshine. At least, that’s what I’ve been told by so many women, not just my ma.

Lola McGraw still told me no. But she also seemed sad about it. Sure, the melancholy was hidden behind her temperamental biker princess bullshit. If I’d been a weaker man, I’d have begged on my hands and knees to keep her. But being a supreme badass, I just asked very nicely for her to reconsider.

In the end, everything’s worked out.For me, anyway.

“What was the question?” I ask when I daydream for too long.

“Did you know?”

“Lola doesn’t like me,” I say, and West snorts. “She won’t talk to me. When I tried to foist my wonderful personality on her a week ago at a Basin Rock grocery store, she screamed so loud, the soundwave nearly killed an elderly woman a few aisles over.”

“That was a lot of words to say no,” Court mutters as if he doesn’t know how our family works.

“I’m telling your wife you said people should be less chatty.”

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