And they went.
~*~
It never got old. Never. The looks that came their way when they rode through the city in formation. The combined awe and fear; the way pedestrians halted in their tracks to stare.
At moments, Aidanhatedhis father. Moments when they quarreled, when Ghost felt the need to lean on his own superiority.
But now, as he followed along in the phalanx of bikes, his woman’s arms around him, Aidan felt nothing but pride. Pride in his club, in his president, up at the head of the line. Pride in his beautiful, accepting Samantha. And pride in his city, as kids on the sidewalk bounced up and down in excitement and waved to them. This right here – this moment of perfect connection and simplicity – was what it felt like to be alive. All the onlookers were just pretending.
They moved with such synchronization, swooping around the next turn, passing in front of a plate glass window that echoed the roar of their pipes and flashed their reflections back to them. Aidan stole a glance, saw Sam wrapped tight around him, saw his brothers ahead of him and behind him.
He wanted to laugh. Laugh like when he was a boy, just tip his head back and howl up at the sky until he was breathless with pure, emotional, childhood laughter. Tonya, Greg, the looming war, all the shit that weighed on him so heavily – it melted away. It was nothing but the street, his club, his city, and his Sam.
It was going to be okay, he convinced himself in that moment. All of it would work out. All of it. He knew it.
~*~
It was a long ride. They went through the heart of the city, showing off for all the Halloween afternoon traffic. They went down the twisty side streets, through the quiet neighborhoods. It felt a little rude and blasphemous to Sam, disturbing the peace like this, and she realized that was the point. They were making a statement, asserting themselves. Hiking their legs like the Dogs they were.
As a lifelong dork with zero authority, she took a secret delight in it.
It was still light when they arrived back at the clubhouse, and Aidan pulled her into his arms, kissed her longer and more intimately than was proper in public.
“We gotta go out,” he told her, grinning like a fool. “But we’ll be back for trick-or-treating.” His brows jumped and she laughed. “You’ll be okay with Mags and Ava here?”
“Of course. They’re two of my favorite people.”
He grinned again, kissed her again, and whispered, “I know what I want in my candy bucket,” before pulling back.
She blushed furiously.
That had been a half hour ago. Most of the guys had then ridden out in club trucks and vans, on errands she wasn’t sure she wanted to know about.
Inside the clubhouse, the atmosphere was that of a party in waiting. Orange lights gleaming, “Thriller” on the sound system, jack-o-lanterns lit, groupies bringing drinks, and hangarounds being generally useful.
Sam sat on a black leather sofa with Ava and Emmie Walsh, nibbling on the cheese, cracker, and cold cut platter the club girls had set out.
One of the regular groupies, Chanel, dressed up as a witch with hat, cape, and everything, came to them, full wineglasses balanced perfectly on a tray. “Here we go, ladies,” she said cheerfully.
“Thanks,” Sam said, taking her Pino.
“Thank you, Chanel,” Emmie said, smiling at her.
“You doing okay?” Ava asked.
“Oh, you know it,” the groupie said, grinning and winking before she whisked off with her tray.
“She’s sweet,” Sam observed quietly.
Ava nodded. “Very.”
It was hard to wrap her head around the idea of groupies, but she decided not to say anything. If the other old ladies were cool with it – and it seemed they were, so long as groupie attention was directed toward the single members – then she wasn’t going to be the one to raise a fuss.
Emmie leaned forward, glass of white wine held loosely on her knee. “Sam, was this your first ride?”
Sam nodded. She liked Emmie. The petite blonde was a little reserved, but friendly when spoken to. Sam got that; Samwasthat. “Yeah.” Her voice was excited and she didn’t care. “It’s kind of…the best thing ever.”
Emmie and Ava both laughed.
