Something that I couldn’t confirm seeing as I wasn’t allowed to taste one when I was behind those prison walls, and he’d yet to make a cake since I’d got out.
I wasn’t salty at all about that…
“Well, a man who loves cakes would generally be interested in that,” Webber, our club president and one of my best friends, said. “Not that Copper would know. You’ve yet to make him something he could taste.”
Cakes winced. “I’ll do that soon.”
I doubted that. He’d been saying that since I got out.
He was supposed to make my coming home cake, but the man was busier than the president.
He ran One Love, Dallas, which was a community outreach center that helped feed, clothe, and house down on their luck members of the Dallas veteran community and its surrounding areas.
He also started running the newest venture of the Truth Tellers, a veteran-owned and operated halfway house that helped veterans find a job, a place to live, and gave them support they needed to succeed in life after getting out of the military.
It was understandably taking up all of his time, and I was more than okay with him staying afloat over making me a cake.
“I know.” Cakes cringed when he saw Webber’s face. “I need to hire some help. It’s on my list for Monday. I have a few applicants that I’m seriously considering, and a few more that would work in a pinch, but I’m not as confident about.”
“Let me know if you need any help,” Webber murmured as he gestured to the prospect behind the bar to pour him a shot of whiskey.
The prospect bobbled the bottle of whiskey upon seeing our club president in front of him, and my lips twitched.
My date, Melinda, laughed as I poured her a shot of whiskey in a Solo cup after Webber took the glass from the man’s hands and poured his own drink.
“I’m not usually a drinker,” she said. “If I drink this, you’re gonna be peeling me off the floor later.”
I winked at her. “I can do that.”
I didn’t necessarily like Melinda.
There was something about her that just struck me as fake.
But I didn’t have to like her to fuck her.
Let’s be completely honest here.
I had fifteen years to make up for, and I wanted to use my dick, goddammit. My hand had been the only companionship that it had for the longest of times, so I wasn’t going to be too picky on who for a long while.
She took the shot and grimaced.
I didn’t follow suit, knowing that I’d have to drive us home later.
Instead, I pulled a sip of Dr Pepper into my mouth and savored it.
Being in prison, there were a few really big things that I longed for.
Dr Pepper, pussy, and Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes were the main things.
That’s why I had a stack of Christmas Tree Cakes that I bought off of eBay in my bedroom at my sister, Keely’s, old loft apartment in the middle of Dallas. And I never left the house without making sure I had a Dr Pepper in my hand.
“Uh, Bird,” I heard called.
I looked up to find Doc there, jerking his chin at me to look in the opposite direction of where I was standing.
I did, looking over my shoulder to find Reign there.
Reign.
