Page 6 of Beast
“He fucks like a diesel engine powers a truck. Everyone within three blocks knows when he’s fucking a girl.”
Wendy and Carmen climbed in the backseat, and I noticed Gigi taking another gander at the Prospect. He’d take care of that stick up her ass real quick, except he’d replace it with his dick.
“You should give him a try, Gigi,” I said. “I hear he’ll be a member next month. The club loves him, and he doesn’t have a permanent old lady yet.”
Gigi cringed. She was more into guys who wore white slacks, a polo, and a sweater wrapped around their necks. She wanted to ride on a yacht, not a bike. The truth was, that plain, stick-up-his-ass type of guy would fuck her over faster than most bikers. “I’m not going to be called an old lady. Daddy would have a fit if I dated a man like him.” She pulled from the club, taking one last lustful look at Diesel. I was going to make that happen.
“Where are we headed today?” Carmen leaned forward and stuck her face between the two front seats like a child. Unlike Gigi, who came from money, Carmen grew up dirt poor. She put herself through college by way of academic scholarships. She was smart but also had a lot of dirty girl in her.
“Lady Birds Café. Downtown. They let me make a reservation for four.”
“Why do you even stay in this town?” Wendy asked. “You should move to Little Rock. You’d be closer to us.”
They still didn’t get it and probably never would. “The club is Pine Bluff, so Pine Bluff is where I’ll stay.”
“Give me one good reason to be with a bunch of Neanderthal outlaws.” Gigi’s brain asked the question, but I thought her crotch was looking for validation to bang Diesel. I’d answered this same question a dozen times. I’d have to go through the same answers again.
“The sex, for one,” I said. “Beast has a nine-inch dick that sometimes I think pokes my stomach. Holding it in my hand is like holding a prized trophy.” I smiled. Wendy and Carmen practically drooled. Gigi shook her head. “But there’s also never a dull moment. There’s no going home and sitting on the couch, binging TV, going to bed unsatisfied, getting up the next morning to start the same mundane bullshit all over again.”
Gigi stopped at the next light and turned her head. “What about the nice big house and expensive cars? You’ll never get those things being an old lady.”
“Gigi, it’s not about that. It’s about the men. It’s about the brotherhood they love.” I stared out the passenger window. “I don’t think there’s another man on the planet who could make me feel loved and protected like Marcus does. He’s what every man should be but fails to achieve.”
We parked across the street from Lady Birds and went inside. Gigi was still considering what I’d said about the club. She still had Diesel on her mind. She’d have to taste him to understand what I’d told them for years. After all this time, she was still trying to meet her father’s expectations. I felt terrible for her. We needed to set expectations and work toward those.
A young waitress I had heard some club members talk about brought us menus and took our drink orders.
“Charles wants to honeymoon in Fiji,” Gigi said. “An entire month.”
Carmen made a pfft sound. “Can you handle being stuck on an island with him for an entire month with no way to escape?” Everyone but Gigi laughed, although I sensed she still had Diesel on her mind. “I guarantee he’ll be out on the golf course with his boys while you’re back in your room using your favorite vibrator.”
Gigi rolled her eyes, meaning a white lie was coming. “Charles meets all my sexual needs. I do not need toys.”
The three of us laughed. Gigi didn’t sway from her ways, and we’d never been able to convince her of anything otherwise. We doubted she’d ever had an orgasm.
Everyone ordered, and then it was time to get down to business.
Gigi opened the folder she’d brought in. “These are the bridesmaid’s dresses.” She turned the picture so we could see it. They were conservative and not very flattering.
Wendy took the picture but looked at the café’s front window and the bikers outside. I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Marcus.
“Same wedding dress?” I asked, trying to keep everyone’s eyes away from the windows. If that trouble on the other side of the windows came inside before the club arrived, we were screwed.
“Changed my mind. I’ve been working on my guns.” Gigi flexed her biceps. “Thinking something sleeveless and low cut. And more of a sweep rather than a cathedral.”
Midway through the conversation, Wendy pointed at the front windows. “Your guys are here. Time to find myself a biker.” Wendy was somewhere in between Gigi and Carmen. Her parents weren’t wealthy but managed to put her through college. She moved from Florida to attend the University of Arkansas and never moved back home. Her parents were disappointed and rarely spoke to her. That and Wendy had no interest in marriage or kids.
The four bikers who entered the café were not my guys. They were from Hell’s Messengers, the rival club, and Pine Bluff’s perpetual troublemakers. It’s not that the Brothers of Chaos didn’t cause trouble. We didn’t do it in a way that made the town want to call in the National Guard. The Messengers were different. They didn’t mind littering the streets with heroin, meth, or fentanyl. It was no secret their drugs had caused the majority of overdose deaths in the city. Sex trafficking was a major income stream for their club, and both the locals and Brothers of Chaos were trying to end that stronghold.
“Here we go,” the young waitress said. She placed our food on the table and then tried to return to her duties. One of the Messengers grabbed her and pulled her against his chest. She said nothing because saying something would have made things worse.
“Can’t get me enough teenage pussy,” the Messenger said. He was the club’s Enforcer.
I focused on the food in front of me and started eating. The others didn’t. They stared at the men, not understanding. Anything I said would be overheard. Not all bikers were cut from the same cloth. Though the Brothers of Chaos were an outlaw club, they weren’t assholes like the Messengers. I heard from women who’d left the Messengers’ club that they treated their old ladies like shit.
Wendy got up, and I grabbed her hand. “Where are you going? Sit down.” She pulled away and approached the counter, where the Messengers talked to the owner. The owner handed them a stack of money. The fear in the owner’s eyes told me the money was for protection. Protection from what? Them?
The bigger of the men saw Wendy approaching and tapped the others on the shoulder. I pulled out my phone and saw Marcus’s text. They were a few minutes away.
