I handed her my menu and ordered another beer.
The waitress smiled, though it was a nervous one.
I wasn’t surprised by her reaction.
This table was filled with Truth Tellers, and you had to live under a rock not to know who we were and what we represented.
Hell, at any given time, we had at least one law enforcement agency tailing our every move—that was why we had to be so careful.
Since we were considered a one percenter club, we were categorized as a gang. And the government didn’t take lightly to gangs.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Devney said under her breath so that only I could hear. “It’s embarrassing for me when you correct me in public.”
“Then don’t be fucking stupid,” I snarled. “You know damn well that I don’t like vegetarian options. Not to fucking mention, I don’t like the fact that you continuously try to do that and force your bullshit choices on me. I eat fucking meat, Devney.”
Devney paled, but I didn’t care.
She turned her face away, causing her hair to cover her cheeks.
I turned away and once again caught Copper’s eyes.
His were saying, “You should break up with her.”
Hell, he was right.
The only reason I’d gotten with her in the first place was because it was driving me insane to see Silver looking at me at every club party.
At least with Devney on my arm, she wouldn’t look at me.
Which fucking sucked.
I hadn’t realized how much I liked Silver’s gaze staying on mine until she did her best not to do it.
And hell, I was being stupid.
I’d known it for a while, but I was a stubborn motherfucker.
I didn’t like who her fucking father was, but even I should know better than to judge someone by their parentage.
I mean, I had a shit dad myself.
At sixteen, I’d known how to fight because my dad had done his level best to kill me any time he saw me.
A punch here. A kick there.
All the while, it was because my mother wouldn’t protect herself.
Well, I’d gotten over it rather quickly, and when I finally could fight back, I did.
Eventually, my dad left, and my mom was forced to acknowledge for the first time that we’d been living in such a toxic environment that it’d been slowly killing us.
My mom had been forced to get a job and go to work. Meanwhile, I’d started my own mechanic shop out of the garage of our place, fixing anything anyone needed. Bicycles. Motorcycles. Lawn mowers. Weed eaters. Cars.
You name it, I learned to fix it, until I had my own genuine business out of my mom’s garage when I was eighteen.
By the time I graduated high school I had enough money to rent my own shop.
Life just continued to work out well from there.
