Page 16 of Pooh

I look to my right and see a very pretty woman squeezed in between my stool and the next one over. Long, red hair, curves for miles and pretty, blue eyes. Normally, I’d be all over her. I just don’t have the interest tonight but that’s no reason to be rude.

I slide from my stool and offer it to her. I signal for the bartender and then point to her drink.

“I’m Cindy. Nice to meet you…?”

“Pooh.”

“Nice to meet you, Pooh. I’ve seen you and your friends in here before but never had the opportunity to chat with you. Thought I’d jump on that chance tonight since you’re sitting here alone. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind, Cindy. Nice to meet you, too.”

“So, Pooh, what do you do? For work, I mean,” Cindy questions.

“I work for the club. The Devil’s Angels MC. I spend most of my time working at the club’s gym. And you, Cindy?” I return the question. I’m already bored and wishing I had left earlier. I’ll finish my beer and then head back to the clubhouse.

“I’m a receptionist for an insurance agency. Boring job but it pays the bills. So, tell me Pooh, how does a girl get an invite to a club party? I have heard they are pretty spectacular,” Cindy questions.

Yep, just what I suspected. Muffler bunny or club girl material. Not sure which she is or wants to be and I don’t care to know.

“Just need an invite from a clu…” I start to say when the guy sitting on the other side of Cindy interrupts.

“You have some pretty low standards there, girl. You wanting to become biker trash and all. Why not try on a real man?”

I lean around Cindy to get a look at the dumbass running his mouth. Not small, not Gunner’s size. Burly built, scruffy face, beady eyes. Same for his buddy standing beside him, laughing. Both around their mid-thirties.

“Biker trash? You sure you should be calling anyone else trash?” I ask.

“What’s that supposed to mean, asshole?” he barks back at me, puffing out his chest.

It’s going to be a sad day for him because I may not be in the mood for female company, but a good fight sounds like the perfect fix for my mood today.

“You have a problem with bikers, why don’t you aim that shit at me and not the lady sitting here?”

“She’s not much of a lady if she’ll spread for you or one of your kind,” he barks out.

“Cindy, go sit with your friends,” I tell her. She doesn’t hesitate to get out of the line of fire. I turn back to the guy and state, “Why don’t we step outside and continue our discussion about biker trash?”

“You think you’re some white knight defending the honor of a whore? Fuck you, biker boy.”

“What’s your problem? Did she shoot you down? You mad because she didn’t want to wallow in the mud with a piece of shit like yourself?”

That last comment brings him off the stool and to his feet. Anger blazes in his eyes but he doesn’t swing on me. After a moment of trying to stare me down, he turns to his buddy.

“Fuck this. He’s not worth it. Let’s go.”

The two men turn and walk for the exit without looking back at me. I sit myself back down on my stool and finish my beer. I’m a little bummed that they didn’t want to finish our conversation outside. Maybe I should hit up the gym before calling it a night. I need to work off this shitty mood.

I pay my tab, give Vex a chin lift and head outdoors to my bike. The parking lot isn’t as well-lit as it should be, but even so I can see mine and Vex’s bikes lying on their sides. Someone has kicked them over and I see red. I live by simple rules. Don’t fuck with my club family, myself or my bike. Someone just broke one of my rules.

I know who did this and I also know they are creeping up behind me. It’s hard to be in stealth mode after a few too many drinks. Dumbasses. I keep my back turned to them until I know they are close.

I turn, throwing a punch as I do. It lands solid on the cheek of the bigmouth of the two. It drives him back a couple of steps. His buddy hesitates a second and then charges. He gets a kick to the stomach that stops him in his tracks and he folds as he drops to his knees, wheezing. I bring my attention back to the first guy just in time to take a shot to the face. I roll with the punch, absorbing and ignoring the pain, and come back with a combination of my own.

“Do your worst to that one, Pooh. I have this one covered,” I hear Vex say, calmly.

The jackass tries another punch but misses and I unleash several on his face and body. He weaves on his feet before stepping back and holding up his hands. Aww, that’s cute! He wants to call a time-out now that it’s one on one and he’s losing. I know his type well. Always braver when the numbers are in their favor and when they are pumped full of liquid courage. Beer does not make you smarter and he’s proving that right now.

“Next time you see a Devil’s Angels patch, walk away. Leave wherever you are and don’t look back. If I ever see your face again, I’ll remove it from your body. Now get the fuck out of my sight,” I order him.

---