“Yup!”
“Will you help me with Scar? …And leave my office?”
“Yup!”
“Great! The barn’s yours. There’s a grain storage room under it, have at it!”
“Oooh, thanks, Boyband, that was easy. Oh, and I’m taking down the Hellhounds!” I stand to head out.
“Hold up, motherfucker. Taking the Hellhounds down?”
“Yep, I can either do it, then properly patch in, or I can patch in, and you can come along for the ride. Either way, I’m ending them.”
“So, rules for the club, Ray. You can’t just go off half-cocked doing your own thing. You’re part of this now, so if you have information or a plan, you bring it to me, we hold church, vote, and decide what happens as a club. If it’s sensitive, we have the inner circle go through things first, okay?”
“Okay, fine. I’ve noticed the guys always wear their cuts around here but not when they go out, well, mostly when they go out. Why’s that?”
“We like to keep our identities secret, or at least quiet. We only wear cuts when we’re riding as a club recreationally. That way, we can pass ourselves off as a motorcycle club that just rides, and not as a one-percenter club. That way, we keep our business to a minimum. A lot of our guys are part-timers, too, meaning they have jobs elsewhere, like you and Dozer with the garage.”
Going through the rules with me and chatting about expectations, we decide I’m going to look into the Hellhounds and dig around, as apparently, I'm a unicorn. That's what he called me, something that doesn’t exist in the actual club world.
I should be able to go to other clubs without drawing as much suspicion, so that’s my plan to gather some information before bringing my idea to the club. Heading into the bar, I clap Boyband on the shoulder. “Just be honest, yeah?”
He nods and heads over to Scar, joining the boys for pool and darts. “Come on, guys, let's see how messy we can make this!”
I laugh as I strut over. “Damn, girl, that cut looks fine on you!”
I twirl around with my best model pose. “I know, right?”
Tank laughs. “You’re an idiot!”
“Rude!” I sling my arm around Viking. “So when are you and Carmen getting married?”
“Fuck you, Ray. Don’t say shit like that out loud!”
I bark a laugh at him. “Fine, rack ‘em up! Dice, can I grab a quick word?” While the guys rack them up and get the cues sorted, I tell Dice what I need, and he says it won't be a problem and to give him a few weeks. Heading back to the table, I snatch the bottle of tequila up and neck, at least five shots worth.
Priest snatches it from my lips. “Hey, I’m playing catch up, no fair!”
“Yeah, well, you're on my team, and I wanna win, so I need you to be able to see straight!”
After playing pool and darts for the rest of the night, I’m absolutely shit-faced. The guys put me in Steel's old room as there’s no way we will make it up the stairs to the apartment.
“Isn't it normally the husband that stays out till all hours getting drunk with his friends?” I roll over, squinting at the large imposing figure in the doorway and roll back, groaning. I’m fully clothed, face down, starfished sideways across the bed. My mouth feels like Gandhi's flip-flop, it’s too bright, and my husband is giving me the fanny flutters. My head is trying to pound out a resounding no at me, but my nether regions are making me hot and squirmy.
“What time is it?”
“Six.”
“Argh, too early!” I grab the pillow and place it over my head as he just laughs at me, walking over and flipping me onto my back. I make a hissing noise at him as my arm flings over my face!
“Ray!”
“Uh-huh!”
“Let’s get you home!”
“Urgh, can’t I stay here? It’s so still and quiet and not outsidey at all!”