“You and me both.”
I glanced around feeling way out of my depth.
“Let’s get you a drink.” He smacked his hands together like a man ready to party.
I sat back on the barstool and shook my head. “No, thanks.”
I was going to stay for thirty minutes and then get the hell out of there. Hanging out at a motorcycle gang’s clubhouse was the last place I wanted to be.
Isaac looked surprised but let it go and accepted a beer from a girl behind the bar. She was wearing the tiniest pair of Daisy Dukes I’d ever seen.
“Is it just how you remembered it?” he asked, taking a sip.
“There’s a lot of familiar faces, but also a lot of new ones,” I said, looking around the room.
“Well, Vader you know . . .” Isaac nodded to the good-looking, Mike Patton lookalike with the Star Wars T-shirt under his cut.
When I left for college, Vader was a club prospect. Now he was well into his thirties and a manlier version of the baby-faced kid I remembered.
“And of course, you’d remember Joker and Maverick,” Isaac continued, pointing his beer bottle at two club members playing pool. Joker looked like the lead singer of Metallica, right down to the long, strawberry blonde hair and goatee, while Maverick was a giant wall of muscle with big arms and a mass of tangled hair pulled back into a ponytail. Watching them was a skinny girl in a too-short skirt and a too-tight top. She leaned against the pool table, looking bored.
“Who is that,” I asked, pointing to a handsome redhead talking to a tall mountain of a man I knew as Freebird.
“That’s Irish. Been in the club about eight years now.” Isaac swung around on his chair to search the room. When he spotted whom he was looking for, he nodded toward him. “And that scary looking sonofabitch over there in the camouflage pants is Grunt. He is our current Sergeant In Arms.”
Grunt looked straight out of the Marines. Tall. Broad. Shaved blond hair. He was handsome in an I wouldn’t think twice about killing you kind of way.
“And that sonofabitch over there is Tully. Looks like your class nerd, but don’t let those Coke bottle glasses fool you, the kid doesn’t miss a trick.”
Tully looked like he’d walk a thousand miles and fall down at your door.
“And ol’ blue eyes over there is Cool Hand,” Isaac said, pointing to a young Paul Newman leaning against the bar doing shots with a very made-up blonde with big assets pouring out of her dress.
“I saw Tex as I walked in,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “Is he still as crazy as a cut snake?”
Isaac grinned. “He’s a bit tamer now that he’s married. But I think the old Tex might show up once the other charters get here.”
I thought about the arrival of the other charters and what that would mean. They were here to honor my father. To honor one of their fallen. There would be a big wake, followed by an even bigger party. And when the Kings of Mayhem originals hosted visiting chapters, things got wild. There would be liquor and women. Lots of liquor. And lots of women.
Before I could stop myself, I thought about what it would feel like to see Cade with another woman. And maybe it was the emotions of the past forty-eight hours fucking with me, but I had a feeling seeing him with another woman wouldn’t be as easy as I thought.
I shook my head as if I could shake the craziness out of my mind.
Cade could do whatever the fuck he wanted.
Across the room, I noticed a bearded, dark-haired biker standing with a beautiful woman by the jukebox. The woman was stunning with caramel hair and skin that looked like toffee. Dressed in an off-the-shoulder summer dress, there was something calm and elegant about her. Almost graceful. Her lips were full, and when they parted into a big white smile, it was devastating. She looked like she belonged here about as much as I did. “Who are they?” I asked Isaac.
“That’s Jacob and Mirabella. Totally loved up, if you couldn’t tell. They’re getting married soon.”
I watched Mirabella stand on tiptoes to kiss her man. He looked at her with so much affection, my heart squeezed tight.
Just as the song on the jukebox changed to The Rolling Stones “Gimme Shelter” an older man in a wheelchair rolled over to us.
“And you remember this old bastard,” Isaac said with uncharacteristic fondness.
“Of course, I do!” I said, affection swelling in my chest. It was Isaac’s father, Griffin Calley. He was Garrett’s older brother. Cade’s uncle. I leaned down and kissed his cheek. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Indigo Parrish. Look at you,” he said with a big smile. He patted my face. “Still a beauty. When are you going to ditch the young fellas and learn that us older men is where the real action is?” He laughed, a big throaty chuckle. “You look beautiful.”