Paige
Crank’s motorcycle shudders a moment then goes still after he pulls up in front of the bar. I don’t let go of him right away, though, squeezing him extra tight, with my cheek resting against his back. It’s well into November and there’s a distinct chill in the air. I don’t mind. Any reason to show off my Property of Savage, Crank and Poe leather jacket is a good reason in my book.
Savage and Poe rumble in right next to us, lined up in front of The Burnout. It’s a biker bar that the Outlaw Sons frequent so much it might as well be their own. It’s in a strip of stores a little bit back from the road, with a locked up storefront on one side, and a vape shop on the other with a “Just opened” sign in the window. Motorcycles line the whole parking area out front, lined up in all sorts of colors, sizes and shapes. I’ve been a few times so I know it’s not just the Outlaw Sons that go here, but they’re a large part of keeping it in business. The steady rumble of rock music seeps out, muted by the front door, shut to keep out the fall chill, and up on the wall is a big neon sign, telling you that this is, in fact, The Burnout.
I slip off the bike, and look around. Three more bikes pull in right behind us. Jessica jumps off from behind Ghost almost as soon as he stops. She smiles wide as she comes over to stand with me, pulling me into a side hug while we wait for our boys to get all the bikes parked. Her jacket matches mine, though it obviously says Property of Ghost, Tex and Riot.
“Double date! Let’s go!” she says with a grin.
Savage comes around behind me and puts his big hand on the small of my back, claiming possession before guiding me towards the entrance. “It’s cold as balls out here. Let’s get inside and get this party started.”
We push past a couple of guys smoking outside and go through the doors. As always, it’s crowded. The music is much louder, leather and musk lie thick in the air, and for someone short like me, it’s almost impossible to see anything beyond the crowd closest to the door. Usually there’s more space deeper in, though, once you get past the smokers who like being close to the door, and the crowd at the bar. Luckily, all I have to do is stick behind my guys and they clear a path.
Hector, the owner and regular bartender, looks like Mr. Clean, if Mr. Clean was a biker. His head’s shaved smooth, he’s bare-chested other than his leather cut, he’s ripped and square-jawed, and has gold earrings. The tattoos that crawl down both of his arms are all sorts of grotesque monsters that’d fit right into any horror movie, and Poe told me once that each one represents something he’s lived through. I don’t know him, so I don’t know more than that, and it’d be rude to ask. All I know is that he’s got a memory like a steel trap and always seems to know our names. He’s friendly to anyone who doesn’t make trouble in his bar, and extremely unfriendly to anyone who does. But us he likes. He smiles broadly as we push our way through to the bar.
A beefy guy with a gray beard and two beers narrows his eyes at us as we come in, but as soon as he spots the guys’ patches, he gets out of the way immediately. There are some benefits to being part of the reigning MC in the area. Hector scans us quickly. “Jess, Paige. Boys. The usual?” His voice is raspy and low. There’s also a nasty white scar across the front of his neck. I’ve been wondering if those two things are related, but again, that doesn’t feel like simple small talk.
“Yes please!” Jessica says enthusiastically. “But could I have an extra cherry this time?”
Hector chuckles low and nods, and once the rest of us confirm our orders, he starts tapping and mixing.
I hop up on one of the bar stools so I can see a little more. Poe moves in behind me and slides an arm around my waist, then leans down to kiss the top of my head. I press my back into him and smile. I was promised a hard life when they claimed me, but I have to admit that so far, the only thing hard has been them, just about any time they can get me alone, and sometimes even when we’re not alone.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. It’s not like the Sons don’t have plenty of work, and some of their contracts are brutal. I thought my trouble was bad, but Jessica told me about growing up basically owned by an egomaniacal arms dealer who stole her as a little girl, not getting free until Ghost, Riot and Tex happened to take her hostage when they were hired to kill her captor. Finding that cute little Anne is actually his daughter has given me a whole new appreciation for how resilient people can be.
Not everything they do is that dangerous, but they’re not exactly working desk jobs. They don’t tell me everything, but I live with them, and I love them. I can tell when they linger a little extra long in a goodbye that they’re worried. But every time, they’ve come back to me, unhurt. Maybe another scar or two, but overall, safe.
And when they come home after a rough day and just want to get lost in my body? The sex is wild.
We get our drinks and push deeper into the bar. Originally, the bar was much smaller, but at some point Hector knocked through to the empty business next door and expanded. We turn the corner into the new area, where there are some tables and a stage at the far end where a girl way more athletic than me is doing an Olympics worthy routine around a dancing pole. Off to the side, a couple has decided they can’t wait until they get home, and she’s riding in his lap, while they’re both watching the show. Her skirt covers the details, but the way they’re moving, there’s no doubt as to what they’re up to. Jessica smiles and waves to them.
“You know them?” I ask with a laugh as the guys pull us back to a table a little farther away from the speakers.
“What? No, just letting them know I’m appreciating the show.” She grins.
Riot, one of her men, told me once that when they first brought her to the club, she was quiet and shy, mostly worried about keeping safe. It’s hard to believe it, knowing her now. I think maybe her wild side is making up for lost time.
“Have you ever…” I tilt my head in their direction.
“No.” Her grin turns into a deep laugh. “I mean, you know how it is at the club. We’ve fooled around at parties, sure, but I’ve nixed public performance, at least for now.”
That makes me smile. “Just for now, huh?”
Crank, who’s been listening in, leans closer. “What’s that fantasy that always gets you off? About you in the middle of one of the club parties?”
“Crank!”
“That’s such a common one it’s not even weird,” he says with a rumbly laugh. “Fuck, baby, we’ll try anything with you, but only if you want it.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Jessica gives Crank a shove, which doesn’t appear to do anything at all. “You’re not supposed to be revealing a girl’s personal fantasies like that.”
“If it was to anyone other than you, I never would’ve.” He shrugs. “My lips are sealed.”
I’m not mad, because he’s right. It’s only been a few months, but whether it’s that we’re the only old ladies in the club that’ve gotten into this kind of a relationship, or that we just happen to mesh well, Jessica is turning into my best friend. It’s a connection I didn’t find in high school or college, where I had friends but never felt like I really had a best friend… well, I’ve found one here. And I like to think that she’s found it with me. All the boys know that when they’re out doing scary stuff, Jessica and I are watching movies, drinking wine and eating popcorn, chatting and trying to forget that our guys might be in mortal danger out there. Sometimes with Bonnie and Anne, sometimes just the two of us.
“A toast!” Savage holds his beer up in the air, and all the guys follow. Jessica raises her cocktail that Hector called a Bee’s Knees, and me my Long Island Iced Tea, as I wait for him to continue. “I’ve been with the club for a lot of fucking years, it feels like. Before Hellfire took over, before the Pit Vipers tried to fuck it up, before some of you even knew who the fucking Outlaw Sons were. And I know I’m speaking for every man here that I’ve lived through the best and worst fucking days with my brothers, but until Paige came into our lives, I didn’t know how good it could be.”
Several of the guys knock their bottles into the table in agreement.
Ghost stands. “Damn, fucking straight. I thought that me and the boys were going to always be the odd ones out, the brothers who made a crazy fucking choice. And we are still, in all sorts of ways, but now you fuckers have gone and done the same. And I’m fucking glad. Even if we’re always the only ones, it’s given our old lady someone who really fucking gets what she’s going through. It makes sense for them. More helping hands, more protection, more hard dick… but the other night, Sinner asked me what we get out of it. I thought about it for a while, and the answer is that I get what any other man gets, someone to come home to, someone whose body I can get fucking lost in, and it ties me even closer to my brothers in arms. So here’s a toast to Jessica and Paige, the sexy women who made us throw out everything that’s fucking normal and have somehow, between the two of them, made six Outlaw Sons the happiest fucking men on the goddamn planet.” And then he drains his beer.
“I’ll drink to that,” Poe says, and follows suit.
The other guys do too, while Jessica and I take it a little easier. The bar is just around the corner from the club, but if we tried to keep up with them, we’d have to call for someone to drive over one of the club trucks because we’d fall right off the back of the bikes.
“So romantic,” Jessica says and bobs her head in a little bow. “Maybe you guys just knew a good thing when you saw it.” She winks.
“Maybe that’s true, darlin’. I’ll go get us another round,” Tex says and heads for the bar, Poe going along to give him a hand carrying.
When I was studying, I always thought I’d work for a few years and then eventually take over for mom at the laundry. It was never my passion, but it was safe, and normal. Maybe find a bland, normal guy and have a bland, normal family with the white picket fences and all that. Mom asked me once if it was what I really wanted, because she wanted me to be happy more than she wanted me to follow in her footsteps, and I told her yes.
Maybe I was just waiting for this, something so amazingly not bland and normal that I couldn’t even imagine it.
Up front, under the stage, two big bikers are fighting. One of them smashes a bottle over the other’s head. They nearly plow straight through Poe and Tex, but our guys just sidestep nimbly and continue our way with the drinks.
“Should someone stop them?” I ask.
Crank looks over. “Who? Ox and Switchblade? Nah. They’re tight as thieves. Night’s not really complete without them slugging it out, but then they go have beers together afterwards, and it’s all good. They’ll finish up soon.”
“Right.”
Welcome to my new normal. It’s definitely not bland.
(c) Stephanie Brother 2024
