As she poured, she asked, “So, what’s your plan?”
“For?”
She smiled, with a half-laugh playing under her breath.“You being in Madison.Just gonna be a menace to society, or maybe contribute to downtown?”
I snorted.“Got a plan.First, we’re going to get the clubhouse set up.”
“And then?”
“Rage room.”
She blinked.“Um, what?”
That was the usual reaction.
“Looking at a place on the east side of town,” I said.“Half a warehouse we’re looking to rent.You come in, get a pair of overalls, goggles, and a sledgehammer.Walk into one of the rooms and smash the shit out of whatever you can for thirty minutes.Old TVs, glassware, lamps, whatever we can stock.”
Tempi stared at me like I had three heads.“You’re joking.”
I shook my head.“Not at all, doll.They’re popular in bigger cities.It’s a solid stress reliever.”
She reached for a towel and wiped the bar slowly while still eyeing me.“Well, I’ve never heard of anything like that, but I can say there’ve been days I’d love to smash the shit out of things.”
Britta came out of the kitchen again with more cheese curds, hot and golden brown with steam rising from the basket.She set them down in front of me.
I plucked one and popped it in my mouth.
It squeaked against my teeth as I chewed.
I paused mid-chew with brows pulling together.“I can’t even remember what we were talking about because the cheese in my mouth issqueaking,” I said to Tempi.
Tempi laughed.“That’s because we have nothing but the freshest cheese curds here.And when they’re not fresh anymore, they get breaded and fried.It’s the life span of a curd.”
I grabbed another one.“It’s fucking delicious but also kind of fucking weird.”
She looked around and lowered her voice.“Don’t let the regulars hear you say that.You’ll get carried out and banned for life.”
I popped another curd in my mouth.“Then I guess I better just keep eating and hope I become a regular.”
Tempi gave me a look that was curious, skeptical, and amused.“Yeah, we’ll see if that happens.”
The next round of food came out.Britta brought out the ten burgers, all cut in half and arranged on trays with pickles and crispy fries.The guys descended on them with all the grace of a biker mosh pit.
I grabbed one half before they vanished.The burger was damn near perfect, juicy, and dripping with cheese and bacon.The bun was toasted.The cheese curds stacked inside didn’t hurt either.
I leaned back on my stool and looked around as I chewed.
The Badger’s Den wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t need to be.Dark wood floors, aged but solid.The walls were lined with old neon beer signs: Leinenkugel’s, Miller Lite, and Pabst.A jukebox sat near the door and glowed blue and green while blaring rock from the early 2000s.
There were three pool tables in the back, two dartboards, and a handful of high-top tables scattered between the bar and the front windows.Everything had that lived-in feel, scuffed but clean, worn but loved.
It reminded me of the first MC bar I’d ever stepped into.
Swift walked over and dragged his hand through his hair.“Guys are wanting to check out the rest of the area,” he said.“Ready to head out?”
I nodded and shoved the last bite of burger in my mouth.I chased it with the last of my whiskey and pushed the empty glass toward the edge of the bar.
Tempi walked over, receipt in hand, and dropped it on the bar in front of me with a flick of her fingers.“Your drinks are on the house,” she said, “but that food doesn’t grow on trees.”
