Page 29 of Property of Thrasher
I was happy for any of my brothers who found a partner. That shit simply wasn’t for me.
8
MELODY – THE PARTY
There was a rhythm around here. It wasn’t necessarily my own, but if I stood still long enough I could almost blend in.
I had never experienced a party before. Lexi and Lyric pushed hard practically begging me to come out tonight. This wasn’t common in the culture we grew up in. Being in this place, the whole building had this pulse like a living, breathing organism. And somehow I had been dropped into its bloodstream.
The bass thumped through the floors rattling the old bottles that line the shelves behind the bar. They clinked together almost in time with the music. Smoke wrapped around everything, almost suffocating. All of it was intoxicating, this tangled blend of cigars, cigarettes, weed, perfume, sweat, leather, and beer invaded my nostrils on every inhale.
The Kings of Anarchy didn’t merely fill a room. They claimed it. Voices that carried over the music, laughter that cracked like gunfire, and when someone clapped a hand on another brother’s back it was hard enough to come across like a punch.
The women were every shape, size, and race. Each of them appearing in a different level of undress or dress depending on the lady. They all wore confidence like armor even with the tight skirts and impossible heels. Some danced like this was center stage while others curled into the sides of men who looked like they could take on the world or a gladiator pit and win without spilling a drop of beer.
And in the midst of all of this was where I landed.
My black dress was modest compared to everyone else here. My neckline high, the hem brushing just above my knees. My hair was twisted back into a neat knot that I had thought looked nice earlier. Now, though, it made me feel like I had shown up to the wrong event. Maybe it would have been fitting for a church social or a funeral. What it didn’t do was working at a biker party. It was maybe a good outfit for a teacher, or an afternoon social.
Pretty much anywhere but here.
I hugged the wall, telling myself I was here for Lyric, to keep her safe. She had begun a recent romance with none other than our boss, Tiny. Apparently this was their night out and it was important to her. That was it, I was here for her.
It was impossible not to notice the flags on the walls, the way everyone moved together in unison, and I was the odd man out. I couldn’t help but notice the way people interacted with me, they either glanced at me with curiosity or dismissal.
Almost all of them that was.
There was one man who didn’t look away when his stare locked on me.
He leaned against a thick beam near the center of the room like he owned the place. His arms crossed over a chest that filled his leather vest perfectly. Broad shoulders with a strong jaw line shadowed in stubble. His hair just messy enough to make me think someone had been running their hands through it. Why that seemed to hit me differently I couldn’t understand.
His gaze was steady, unblinking.
Not a drunken glance or a casual once over. No, he locked in on me and I felt the heat through every inch of my body.
I broke eye contact first. But I could still feel the weight of him.
The music shifted rolling into something slower. The bodies on the makeshift dance floor adjusted instantly, hips swaying in time, arms around necks and shoulders, hair whipping, and people completely relaxed into one another.
I pushed off the wall, trying to disappear into motion. I made my way toward the bar, telling myself I would help Trinity by clearing some empty glasses. A tray gave me something to hold, something to focus on and pass the time. If my hands were busy, maybe my nerves would settle.
It worked for all about two minutes. Jonesy sent me down this hallway to get a bottle of bourbon from the back. I had gathered a few glasses along the way. In the darkness of the hall I stumbled just a bit. My fall was broken when my tray jammed into the back of a man.
A rock solid wall of steel build of a man. One with a woman half draped onto him.
The splash of liquid sloshed from the glasses before I could right myself.
I turned. Frozen in place, all I could think was, it was him.
I had already bumped into him once before tonight. Why me? Why was my luck so bad?
Up close he was larger than I realized. The fabric of his shirt seemed strained across his shoulders and chest. His mouth was unsmiling and unamused but his eyes, they locked on mine like I had stepped into his lane or stolen his puppy. Although I didn’t think bikers were necessarily smitten over a puppy or anything for that matter.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t?—”
The growl that rolled out of him silenced me. Low, dangerous. I felt it more than I actually heard him. “Why are you carryin’ a tray like you belong?” His voice was deep, rough even. Every word was deliberate.
I swallowed, “I was just trying to be helpful while I waited for my cousin.”
