Booger reached out and offered me his closed fist. “Name’s Roger, but everyone calls me Booger.”
Raven chuckled and looked at him as he lit the tip of the joint and blew the smoke out. “No offense, man, but what kind of name is Booger?”
He shook his head and looked at the ground. “I swear, I’m never gonna live that one damn moment down.” He lifted his head and explained. “When I was a prospect, I got a head cold, and when our President was speaking with me, I sneezed andaccidentally blew a wad of snot onto his cut. I thought it was gonna be my head on the line, but he laughed, slapped my shoulder, and proclaimed me to be Booger.”
By the time he got through with his tale of woe, I was laughing so hard that tears were building in my eyes, and Raven had dropped the lit joint as he doubled over in hysterics. He reached down and picked it up as I wiped my eyes and shook my head.
“That sucks but at least you got your patch,” I remarked, and he shrugged. “What’s your club?”
“I’m with the Concrete Barbarians out of Chicago,” he returned, and I tried to mentally roll through the clubs I knew, but I’d never heard of that one.
“Welcome to South Dakota, Booger,” I chuckled, and he reached over as Raven handed him the joint.
I didn’t want to share my weed, so I pulled out another and lit the end, inhaling deeply as Raven and Booger continued to speak. My eyes kept moving through the crowd gathered around the bonfire as I finished the joint by myself. My head was fuzzy and my mouth was dry, but for the first time today, I was relaxed.
A beer appeared at my side then one was handed to Raven by a prospect. “Grab my friend, Booger, a beer, would ya?” I requested.
He nodded, and Booger said, “Appreciate that.”
A moment later, the prospect handed him the beer then scuttled off to check on another brother. I twisted the top off the bottle and felt the cold liquid quench my dry throat as I drank deeply. Raven kept cutting his eyes to me, but I wasn’t interested in whatever he wanted to discuss.
“Later,” I said and walked away from his conversation.
There was a spot on the far side of the fire where no one was standing, and from that vantage point, I would be able to see theentire front parking lot, the field, and the side of the building. It was slightly elevated, and as I walked there and turned to face the party, I felt the same pang in my stomach as I did every time we had a gathering.
Loneliness.
I’d cut myself off from connections past my brothers and Pappy, and as I watched everyone smiling, laughing, and enjoying their conversations, I started to question why I’d isolated myself from women.
Then, the thought of Willow popped into my head, and I wanted to kick my own ass. We had one night six years ago, and although she wasn’t the last woman I was with, she was the most memorable. There was something about her and the night we’d spent in that seedy motel that refused to leave my memory, no matter how much weed I smoked or how many beers I drank.
“I’m crazy,” I said to myself before I began to walk around the perimeter of the bonfire.
The party wasn’t my scene tonight, and I was ready to go inside. I was a little unsteady on my feet from smoking so much so fast, so I carefully walked back onto the gravel lot. When I looked from my feet to the people in front of me, I instantly stopped moving.
I must have been stoned out of my mind, or drunker than I thought, because there was no way I was seeing what I was seeing. Walking toward me, with her long legs and a sway in her hips, was the woman who’d fueled too many dreams over the last six years.
She stopped in front of me and was almost eye-to-eye when I said her name softly, almost like a whispered prayer. “Willow.”
She smiled at me, and I looked down her sexy body, taking in the full sleeves of ink adorning both arms. But it was what was written on the front of her black T-shirt that I wasn’t prepared for.
Scrawled across her chest, in big white letters, was written ‘Property of Willow'.
Well, fuck.
Someone yelled from somewhere off to the side, and I snapped my head to see what the problem was when I saw a little terror running through the crowd. People were lifting their legs as he darted between them.
Paige yelled, “Jack,” and when he was in front of me, I bent over and scooped the little asshole into my arms.
He growled, and I turned to look back at Willow, but there wasn’t anyone standing there. I pushed up and peered through the crowd, looking for the black shirt and tattoos, but it was dark along the fringes of the gathering.
“Fuck,” I said to Jack as Paige jogged up and took him from my arms.
I took a step forward, trying to find Willow without any luck. Then, I questioned if she was even there to begin with, or if my mind had conjured her up in a drunken, weed-fueled haze.
“Jigsaw? Are you okay?” Paige asked from behind me, and I turned back to face her and the little fucker who liked to piss on my bike tires.
“Yeah,” I sighed and shook my head, “I just thought I saw someone I knew, but I must’ve been mistaken.”
