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I hitched my thumb to my office. “I’ve got a few red noses in my desk if you want one. I got rid of the big yellow shoes last year during yard sale days.”
“You guys had to dress up as clowns?” Mace asked.
“Well, we didn’t have to, but I thought it would be respectful if Imogen and I did. You should have seen–”
“Stop,” Imogen shouted. “We both agreed to never talk about the clown funeral ever again, didn’t we?”
I cocked my head. “I mean, you said we couldn’t talk about it. I don’t think I ever really agreed.”
“Keep talking, Dorothy, and you’re going to have to find your own margaritas and nachos,” Imogen threatened.
I pouted out my bottom lip. “You know I didn’t drive today, and I’m not going to walk all the way to Tito’s.”
Imogen zipped her fingers across her lips. “Then zip it. No one wants to hear about the clowns.”
Mace raised his hand. “I kind of want to hear about the clowns.”
Imogen sliced a glare at him.
He held up his hands. “You know, on second thought, I don’t want to hear about the clowns. I would like to hear about anything but clowns.”
“Wise man,” I mumbled. “Let me just grab my purse, and we can head out.”
“Grab mine, too,” Imogen called.
I waved my hand over my head and slipped into the office. The light on the ancient answering machine was blinking, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to check it. “Remind me to check the answering machine when we get back,” I called to Imogen.
“I think that is me from earlier. I was in the middle of a breakdown downstairs and had a moment of weakness. I called you for help, but you didn’t answer.”
I grabbed our purses and hitched mine over my shoulder. “I didn’t even hear the phone ring.” I closed the office door behind me and followed Imogen and Mace out the front door.
“Don’t worry about it,” Imogen laughed. “I think my pregnancy hormones were hitting me hard. I couldn’t get Mr. Brooks to bend the way I wanted him to. I finally got it when I got the crowbar out–”
“Stop,” Mace called. He opened the passenger door to Imogen’s car. “There will be no more talk of anything to do with embalming for the rest of the night. Swear to god, you two are some of the craziest chicks I know.”
Imogen scoffed and patted Mace’s chest. “I think you’ve forgotten about Mitzy, Raelynn, and the rest of the ol’ ladies.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mace mumbled. “Get your butt in the car, woman.”
I slipped into the backseat and couldn’t help but smile as I fastened my seat belt. Sure, Imogen and I were a little off the walls, but so were all the other girls who had hooked up with the rest of the RBMC.
Part of me wished there was one last biker left for me, but that wasn’t going to happen unless one of the girls decided they wanted to have a sister wife. As much as I thought all of the guys were good-looking, I wasn’t interested in any of them.
Imogen flipped her visor down and looked at me in the mirror. “Do I even want to know what you are thinking about?”
I shook my head and leaned back in my seat. “Probably not. Just take me to Tito’s and put a margarita in my hand, and I’ll be good.”
Chapter Two
Dorothy
The evening air was crisp as I made my way back from Tito’s with Mace and Imogen. Imogen, visibly exhausted from her day of work and carrying my little niece or nephew, leaned on Mace as he guided her upstairs to her apartment.
“Just take the car home, Dorothy,” Mace’s voice echoed down to me from the staircase.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Imogen called out wearily. “Bright and early to say goodbye to Mr. Brooks.”
“I’ll be here. I’m just going to grab my notebook from the office,” I replied, making my way towards the office space.
