“Exactly.” I lick my lips before smacking them. Have to get every drop of this stuff. “‘It’s crazy’ means ‘It’ll scar you for life, don’t watch it.’”
“And since that day, over fifteen years ago, I have looked up very little of what you tell me to.”
Sounds like her problem, not mine. But I don’t tell her that. I just speak the truth. “Also helps that I’m usually right most of the time.”
The look she gives me says it all. One I’m sure works on her kids so they fear for their lives, or at least fear no dessert that night. “You’re not. Never have been. Never will.” Shewaits a beat before moving to her purse and pulling out her wallet, not making any eye contact as she speaks. “And yes, they looked. All four of them.”
“Oh, girl, get it.” I wiggle in my chair as I cheer her on.
“Please. I only want one, and only for a night. Don’t need the stress of having to take care of another man. I’m not like you.” She tosses the bills down on the table.
“Meaning?”
“You’ve got the time.” She shrugs as if it’s the most blatantly obvious thing in the world.
“Not sleeping with four men.” Sounds like a circus act. One that would require medical attention afterward.
“Who said anything about four? Take one. Maybe two. Definitely take the one with the chiseled jaw and quarterback looks. He’s hot. So are the others, but they aren’t your type.”
“My type? I don’t have a type. Other than asshole. No-type Viv is what I am.”
“Yeah, you do. It’s bad boys.”
I barely hold in my snort. “Bad boys aren’t my type. Have you seen who I’ve dated?”
“Exactly my point. The bad ones aren’t the type you keep around. You sleep with the look and then toss them out. You need a clean-cut one. One to break the mold you’ve got going on.”
This girl has gone crazy. Completely insane. “Whatever. I don’t have a type.”
“Bet you’d want his number if you actually looked at him.” Her smile and eyebrow wiggle say it all.
“Not looking,” I singsong as I pull out my cash and put it on the table.
“Chicken.” She pouts as she crosses her arms, and I just roll my eyes.
“Didn’t work in third grade when you called me that. Still won’t work today.”
But I’m tempted. Very tempted. Just like back then, when she dared me to run down the metal slide after it rained. I knew it would cause nothing but pain if I fell. Sure, the first few seconds would be a rush, but pain after that. And I’ve got a feeling the same could be said for whoever she’s trying to hook me up with—fun till the fun runs out, and then I’ll fall and land on my ass.
Not happening.
Chapter 3—Domino
The clubhouse is exactly how Casper described it to me: an old hotel converted into a clubhouse in a part of town reserved for blue-collar workers. There are a few garages around it, plus some townhouses. Not necessarily a place a clubhouse usually is. We can be noisy, so clubs usually aim for places away from crowds to avoid noise complaints.
“Pretty crowded,” I say as the four of us get off our bikes. I also note that the place isn’t that secure. There’s not even a gate around the property. I get that not every sister club has the same enemies as the mother chapter, but security is important. Not only will I be cleaning house, but I’ll make a few updates as well.
“Yeah, but everyone keeps to themselves. Club’s been here long enough, and these places built around it,” Lucky says as he looks over the area.
“Club properties?” Would make sense to get some steady income coming in.
“Some,” Rooster says with a nod. “The garage next to us and the strip mall across the street at the corner are the club’s. The president before Bane had a head for property investment. Saw a way to make bank as a landlord.”
“They have much turnover?”
“Same as anywhere else. Food joints don’t last long around here, but tattoo parlors, liquor stores, even a yoga studio do all right.”
Lucky’s mention of a tattoo parlor has my fingers twitching to get a tattoo gun back in my hands soon. I did a full back piece less than a week ago. Some might think I would want out of the chair after eight hours, but it just reinvigorates me to do more. Might end up tattooing another patch on myself tonight if I can’t find a willing victim. And that’s the best part of club life. You can always find a brother who’s wanting more ink. Probably why I don’t have as much on me as people think I should have. I’m so busy tattooing my brothers, I don’t have time to work on my own.
