Page 40 of Bozo

The road blurs before me as I push my bike faster, trying to outrun my thoughts. Of course it’s useless. Nothing will help me escape them.

I park my bike outside of the clubhouse and head inside, steeling myself for whatever awaits. I spot Preacher at the bar and make my way over.

"What's the situation?" I ask, sliding onto a stool beside him.

He gives me a small nod, his eyes bloodshot as he brings a glass of whiskey to his lips. I don’t think I can recall a time when he was sober. The man’s always got a drink in his hands. He’s hiding a lot of pain. I don’t know what happened, but it’s fucked him up completely.

"Prez needs you to do a booze run," he says with a grin. "You and Cowboy are the lucky ones."

I grit my teeth. Fuck, it means there's going to be a party, and that means my ass is cleaning up the mess. Great. Fuck. The sooner I'm out of prospect probation and finally able to be a patched member, it will be a day to celebrate.

"Where is Cowboy?" I ask.

There are four of us prospecting at the same time. Cowboy is exactly as his name suggests. He got it due to the fact he’s got his hands in everything. The mafia, the Fury Vipers MC, drugs, guns; anything he can, he’s involved in. He’s a cowboy, hence his moniker. Then there's Tank—the man's built like one—and Hustler—not much explanation needed for that one. I've played poker against him a few times. He's a cheat and he's not allowed to play at any table that Lorcan runs. So far, I'm the onlyprospect without a moniker. But I know that'll come when it's time.

Two Weeks Later

I'm bartendingin the club today, and I'm shocked as shit when Preacher shakes his head, not wanting the beer I push his way. Damn, the man's not drinking. Fuck, it must be a damn miracle.

It’s been two weeks since I last saw Gráinne. She’s hiding from me and I’m losing my shit. She’ll text me—hell, she’ll even answer my calls—but whenever I turn up to her apartment, she won’t open the door and pretends that she’s not home. I’m getting fucking sick of it. She’d better be ready, because once I’m finished here today, my ass is going to be at her house, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her ignore me once again.

"Who's the Bozo that's parked their bike against the fucking gate, meaning no one can get in?" I hear a deep, familiar voice say. I turn to see Danny Gallagher standing in the doorway, Raptor, the vice president of the Fury Vipers, beside him, along with Wrath. Danny is the son of Denis Gallagher and grandson to Henry. I’ve met Danny a few times in the past. He’s now in London as he runs the Irish mafia in the UK. "Gotta say, the club turned out a lot better than I expected. You've done a great job." His gaze moves to Preacher. "Good to see you, Preacher. Man, it's been a while. I swear I did a double take when I saw you. I thought it was Jesus Christ himself sitting there."

My lips twitch at what he’s said, but then I realize what he’s talking about and inwardly groan. Fuck, that’s my bike.

"Oh shit," I groan. "That's my bike. Sorry, Danny, I'll move it."

Danny grins. "You may want to check you've not damaged it."

I quickly check on my bike. Thankfully, it’s not damaged, but I move it to a better spot. I wasn’t thinking when I parked it there this morning as I was trying to get Gráinne to talk to me over the phone. She’s acting as though everything’s fine but I call bullshit. If everything was as hunky dory as she’s making out, why the fuck is she ignoring me whenever I come to her house?

As I get closer to the clubhouse door, I hear voices.

"Connor just got his road name, babe," Pyro says, and I can tell he’s speaking to his old lady, Chloe, who happens to be Danny’s younger sister and the daughter of Denis Gallagher.

I shake my head when I realize what my name’s going to be. Fuck. Bozo.

"That's ironic, don't you think?" Callie asks. She’s Chloe’s step-mam and she’s married to Denis Gallagher.

"Yep," Pyro says, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. "But the man's goin' to be made a club member in the next few weeks and he needs a road name."

My steps falter at his words. I’m going to be a patched member in just a few weeks? Fuck. Warmth spreads through my chest at the thought. This is what I’ve been working toward. This is what I’ve wanted.

"Do we all have to call him Bozo?" Callie asks. "Would it not be mean? Like, the guy's the smartest man in the room. Calling him a word that means stupid or significant seems a little…" she pauses, as if she's trying to find the right word.

"Love that you think that, Mrs. Gallagher," I say, stepping back inside the clubhouse. "But being called Bozo isn't mean and isn't meant in that way."

Chloe nods as she reaches for her ma's hand. "It means that he's part of the family."

Fuck yeah, I’m going to be a part of this family. It may be fucked up, but Christ, it’s the best family I’ve ever met.

I turn to Danny, who’s watching me warily. "But that doesn't mean I won't give Danny shit every time I see him for me having this road name."

Danny chuckles, as do the rest of the guys. I glance at the clock and see I've got another three hours before Grá will be home. I’m going to make sure that I’m waiting for her when she is. I’m not letting her shut me out again. Not fucking happening.

This bullshit ends today.

THIRTEEN

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