Page 5 of Wiley A.F.

“Fuckstick over there actually showed.”

“Gonna need a little more information than that, Wiley. Would that be a good fuckstick or a bad one?”

“Undecided.” My nostrils flared as I let out an exasperated breath. “Guess it depends on the day. We rode the same school bus in the same broke-ass town. Truthfully, I hated the kid the majority of the time I lived here. His mouth was the biggest part of him. He always had something to say when he was around. His older brother and I were the same age. We took turns beating the brakes off each other until, one day, we just quit. Didn’t really care why it stopped at the time until I saw the reason the fucker quit picking fights with me. He found a new target. His little brother.” I nodded to the tall, lanky guy strolling toward us. “Wouldn’t be able to tell it by looking at him now, but he used to be shorter than me.” I shrugged. “Anyway, I couldn’t let the asshole kill the little shit, so I pulled his brother off him and beat the fuck out of him one last time. I told the fucker if he ever touched his little brother again, I would slice his dick off and make him deep throat it until he passed out.”

“You’ve always been a twisted fuck, huh?”

“You are one to talk, Prez.” Neither of us had any room to give the other shit about the subject. We were both deranged in our own way.

“You got a ride?” Ghoul asked, addressing my old buddy, his eyes roaming over his body, sizing him up as he approached us.

“Just got her up and running, actually,” he replied, shoving his hand in his pocket, and nervously rattled something.

“I know I’m getting old and all that shit, but care to fucking enlighten me as to why you invited fucking Jingles over there into our clubhousetodayof all days, brother,” Ghoul said through gritted teeth and cocked his head to the side. Ghoul was about as blunt as they came, not only as our MC President but as a person as well. Usually, that meant he was not going to air out all of our business in front of anyone who wasn’t a patched member of the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club, though. Today we’d been summoned back to the FBI headquarters for another meeting and having Jingles here wasn’t ideal since he clearly wouldn’t be welcome to ride along. I understood Ghoul’s frustration completely, but that didn’t mean I was going to be an asshat to someone I hadn’t seen in years.

I had half a notion to remind our President that the black leather draped across my body was worn with years of blood and a whole hell of a lot of miles spent as a patched brother of the Royal Bastards MC on a bike riding from our town in Cleveland, Ohio to just about anywhere else a motorcycle was able to go, but he fucking knew it. The biggest part of those lines and memories were done together, not to mention the fact that I was his Sargent at Arms.

“He’s good, Prez. I’m not a fucking idiot. I just can’t stand the fucker some days. He wants to get a feel for the club life. Figured having an extra set of hands couldn’t hurt this weekend.”

“If he fucks up, it’s your ass,” Ghoul barked, sparking a joint and inhaled. He took another drag and then held it out for me to take.

“Jingles?” I asked, pinching the joint between my thumb and pointer finger, puffing a few hits. I had unintentionally cut down on smoking weed but had been so stressed recently that this was exactly what I needed.

“Yes, Jingles.” Ghoul’s attention shifted to him, and he hooked the tip of his boot under a stool spoke and kicked it in Jingles’ direction. He nodded, gesturing for him to sit. “The mother fucker hasn’t stopped jingling that fuckin’ change in his pocket since his ass stepped into the clubhouse.”

“You could hear it that long?”

“Hell no, but I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, brother. Otherwise, he’s been playing a mean game of pocket pool since he walked through the door, and we know I’m all for getting off, but I reserve the right to do so in here for Bastards.” Ghoul’s teeth sank into his bottom lip as he nodded once in my direction.

“Fuckin’ Jingles.” I laughed, watching him intently, knowing his reaction was going to set the whole mood for the next events that followed. I loved the shit out of Ghoul, but the fuckstick was notorious for fucking with people for the sheer fun of it. Hell, if I were being honest, we all were, but there was no way to predict how someone outside of our lifestyle would react. Ghoul had given me my road name, so it was only fitting for me to openly accept him doing the same for my friend. It was a good sign. If our Prez didn’t like someone, he was quick to let everyone know really fast.

“Jingles I can live with.” He chuckled, running his long fingers over his dark scruffy beard.

“Good damn thing. The other choice was Pocket Pool,” I added with a smirk, knocking the ashes off the end of the joint into the ashtray.

“In that case,” Jingles paused, “Jingles is fucking perfect.”

“So, tell me, you good with breaking the law?” Ghoul asked in a bored tone.

“Depends on the law.”

“All of them except anything to do with kids.”

Jingles nodded. “Then, hell yeah, I’m all good.”

“That’s what I wanted to fucking hear,” Ghoul gruffly answered, his attention settling onto me. “He seems fine to me. Don’t know why you have a problem with the kid.” He grinned. Ghoul was notorious for messing with everyone’s head. Usually, he couldn’t get under my skin, but there were advantages and disadvantages to knowing someone as long as we had each other. A huge perk was knowing what made the other tick, which was also the biggest downfall, too, when I actually thought about it.

“Give him time. You’ll see. It depends on the day, doesn’t it, Jingles?” I added to the banter, hoping to make him feel a little more welcome. This was the first time anyone from my old life had crossed into the club life with me. It was an unspoken rule I kept for myself to never mix the two. Hell, I didn’t have anything to do with anyone from my past.

“Yep.” He smiled.

“Listen, kid, we have to be somewhere, but you’re welcome to hang with Sleeper over there while we’re gone.”

“What’s up, boss?” Sleeper answered, and his head raised from the far end of the bar where he was stocking the cooler with beer when his name was mentioned.

“Jingles here wants to learn about the club life. Show him a good time, break some shit, and call some sweet asses over. Heh,” Ghoul’s sides heaved in and out as he silently laughed to himself for a moment. “On second thought, that’s backward. Call the sweet asses, break some shit, and let the ladies show him a good time.”

“Will do, man.” Sleeper waved Jingles down the bar and put him to work, immediately asking for his help carrying in the rest of the cases of alcohol.

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