The Saturday night party heralding the start of Spring Break had long ago dissolved from a spirited family type BBQ into something much darker and more debased.
Bikers lounged across available surfaces making out (or worse) with the biker groupies. More loitered in little groups blazing their grade A marijuana and more still had retired for the night, passed out on couches or were shut away in the rooms they reserved at the back of the building. Most of the bikers with kids had left a long time ago and only the truly hardcore remained.
I was, weirdly, one of them.
King sat on a stool at the bar with me perched on one of his thighs, one arm hooked around my waist to keep me balanced while the other palmed a Blue Buck beer. I’d never seen him drink so much in one night but if he was drunk, I couldn’t tell. He spoke with Zeus, Nova, Mute and Bat easily, his smile wide and easy. Every once in a while, his thumb would brush back and forth over the exposed skin of my belly, I would shiver and he’d duck down to press a soft bite to the junction of my neck and shoulder.
We’d had a good night, but not exactly an easy one.
I’d been nervous just putting on my ‘biker babe’ clothes that afternoon. The white cropped Harley Davidson tee revealed a large expanse of my flat, pale gold belly, especially with the low riding (and I meant low) pair of faded blue jeans I wore. On pain of biker babe wrath, I’d promised the girls that I would finish off the look with dramatic makeup, big hair and wicked looking spiked heel, leather, ankle boots.
When I went teetering down the stairs from my bedroom, both King and Mute, who had been murmuring together, stopped talking to stare at me. I fidgeted, hoping I didn’t look ridiculous because I didn’t feel ridiculous. I felt sexy and cool, like a woman you’d think twice about crossing and thrice about fucking. It was a great feeling after a lifetime of feeling like a pretty pawn to be shown off by my mother and William. Today, I felt like a freaking Queen.
King seemed to think so too because he practically rushed me at the bottom of the stairs, told Mute to fuck off for a bit, and then kissed me. Mute had fucked off for a bit and King had taken me on the stairs. It had given me rug burn at the base of my back but I didn’t care. The resulting sex glow suited my new look.
It also made me a lot less nervous to be formally introduced to The Fallen as King’s old lady.
Apparently, my nerves were misplaced anyway. There was nothing formal or intimidating about the BBQ Zeus was hosting at the Clubhouse. Men, women and children milled about the asphalt, enjoying the spring sunshine and the jovial company. The smell of charred meat billowed out of the smoker and over the two grills they had going in the back of the clubhouse. There were two picnic tables laden with the salads, sides and desserts the various old ladies and teenage daughters had made, and six coolers filled with various local beers as well as three kegs. One of the prospects, a pimply kid the club had named ‘Pigeon’ for reasons unknown, was manning the bar inside for anyone (mostly the women) who wanted a cocktail. Two more ‘hangarounds’ were at the bikers’ beck and call to run various chores throughout the night, but it seemed that everyone else had decided to take the night off from the drama and the intrigue of the new dealers in town and just enjoy themselves.
Enjoying themselves, I learned, was something bikers did very well.
The kids ran themselves silly through sprinkles set up on the grass and the older children took turns caring for them and hanging with the adults so the parents could take a load off and focus on socializing and boozing.
I was having so much fun that I forgot to be uptight, even when Skell started mauling a much younger woman right in front of me, or when some of the brothers started passing around a joint. King left me, for the most part, with my new group of biker babes, but when I caught eyes with him nearly every time I looked for him, he gave me his boyish grin and it made my heart swell so big it actually hurt. The music was great, the booze was bountiful and the food was to die for—greasy and fattening and yum.
“Look at that tramp,” Lila said, cutting off everyone’s conversation about where to shop in Entrance and Vancouver.
Needless to say, I was finding out that the babes and I did not shop at the same stores. I was happy with my style but also eager to incorporate more leather and lace into my closet because the women around me looked awesome in it, I thought King would die a special death to see me in it, and I’d always secretly wished I was cool enough to pull it off. The girls were in the middle of reassuring me that I was, when Lila interrupted with her angry comment.