Page 115 of Scatter the Bones

“I’m joking. I could never.” Her voice quiets, and she turns her attention to the windshield. “Will there be lots of… muffler bunnies attending this party tonight?”

“Probably.”

“Good thing I brought the knife you gave me.” She pats her side, where I assume the knife’s resting in a pocket. “How will they feel about all this attention being lavished on Stella?”

Not quite the question I expected from Margot. “Most of them won’t go near her. She’s not hooked up with a brother and they know she brings money into the club—which enables them to attend the parties at all—so I think they’re too intimidated topay much attention to her. She’ll have her own entourage with her tonight anyway.”

“Other porn stars?”

“Most likely.”

Margot hums, letting that settle.

Dying to change the subject, I nudge the volume on the radio up a few clicks, letting the haunting hum of Amy Lee’s hypnotic voice fill the cab. “You excited to finally have a weekend off?”

“Yes!” She lets out a girlish squeal that’s endearing as hell. “I’ll probably have next weekend too.” Her enthusiasm seems to fade. “Winter’s usually the busiest time for us.”

“Bad weather accidents?”

“That, and illness—flu and pneumonia.”

“If that’s slowing down, it’s worth celebrating.”

“Yes, spring brings something else. Prom season. Graduation. Young people getting drunk and thinking they’re invincible, and those are always depressing.”

“Even in such a small town?”

She nods, eyes still on the horizon. “You’d be surprised.”

After that, we move on to happier topics and before I realize it, I’m taking the exit for the road leading to Downstate’s clubhouse.

“Uh, I know Upstate set a high standard but readjust your expectations. Downstate’s a lot less pretty.”

She reaches over and pats my thigh. “I have no expectations. I’m just happy to finally see your home club. And spend time with your friends again.”

Damn, that does something to my insides. I’ll have to start being less of a prick to my brothers to thank them for making Margot feel welcome.

When I roll up to our gate, it’s standing wide open. A prospect standing guard.

I roll down my window. “What’s up, Fiddle?”

“Hey, Jigsaw. I didn’t realize that was you.” The kid slowly walks over to my window. His short, curly mop of hair flopping in his eyes. “Grinder says he wants the gate closed in an hour.”

“You and Stitch monitoring it after that?”

“Yes, sir.”

I reach over and rest my hand on Margot’s arm. “Fiddle, this is my ol’ lady, Margot.”

He leans in the window but doesn’t smile or look all that welcoming. “Evening, ma’am.”

Margot waves and murmurs hello.

“Eyes open, Fiddle,” I say.

“You know it.” He taps his fist over his heart and steps back.

“So, he’s a not a full member, right?” Margot asks, once I’ve rolled my window up again.

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