Page 9 of Biker Boo
But I want more.
Chapter 3
Royal
The Kings turned this old county jail into a clubhouse called the Lockup before I patched in, but the bones are still there.Iron bars rust into the brick, graffiti carves the cinderblock walls, ghosts cling to every shadow.
We call it church, but ain’t a damn thing holy about it.
I’m at the table with Oaks, Rye, Bullet, Derby, and the rest of the brothers, waiting for Legend to bang the gavel.The boys are already cracking jokes over bourbon that costs more than their dues.
“Hell, Royal,” Rye mutters, elbowing me.“You write any more of them spooky-ass poems in your journal, gonna read them on All Hallow’s Eve?”
The table laughs.
I smirk but don’t bite.That’s what they want.A reaction.They never get more than silence.
“Careful,” Oaks says, grinning.“Royal might put a hex on your dick.Never seen a man scowl that hard and not mean it.”
More laughter.Somebody smacks the table.Somebody else mutters about eyeliner.
I sip my coffee.Let it roll off.Silence is a weapon.
They’re onto their next victim.“Where’d Vandal and Lex, get off too,” Derby asks.
“Getting off probably.Together.I swear them boys like sausage for the shape not for the taste,” Oaks says, choking on his own joke as much as the bourbon that went down the wrong pipe.
“Just because they bathe regularly, and don’t come in here smelling like a pussy and ass sandwich,” Bullet starts on him.
Oaks attempts to defend himself, “Man, I just got back from the gym, and yeah, that pretty thing at the desk couldn’t resist me today.Rubbed her pussy all over me.Her yams too.”
The door creaks and Legend walks in.He doesn’t sit, just drops his palms flat on the table.
“Listen up.Valerie from Blow Me went missing last night.”
The room hushes.Even Rye stops grinning.
Blow Me’s the hair salon in Paradise, lotta girls get their roots bleached and tongues sharpened there.Valerie’s loud, always laughing, always flirting.
And now she’s gone?
“Maybe Mama Crowley got her,” Critter pipes up from the corner, one of the new prospects.He snickers.“Ain’t that the ghost story?Sunday school teacher turned whore.Heard she steals girls in the night and…”
He stops when he notices I’m staring.
“And what?”I say, no mistaking the threat in my tone.
He swallows.“Nothin’, man.Just a joke.”
“Don’t joke about that.”My voice cuts sharp.
The table goes quiet again, tension crackling.
Legend lifts his chin.“Royal.Sit down.”
I don’t remember standing, but my fists are on the table, knuckles white.I force myself back into the chair.My pulse is loud enough to drown out the burgoo bubbling in the kitchen.
Legend lets the silence stretch, then continues.“Valerie ain’t the only one missing.Melanie’s gone too.”
