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I’m holding in my laughter when Grinder returns. “He’s a bold little shit. What is he, fifteen? Sixteen?”
Grinder shakes his head. “Almost fourteen. Big for his age, so no one questions me ‘bout having him ‘round the club. Trying to keep him out of trouble. Thinks he’s Don-fucking-Juan ever since he nailed his babysitter.”
I burst out laughing. “Shit, are you sure the ol’ ladies are safe with him on the prowl?” I joke.
“Yeah,” he grumbles. “He’ll behave. He recognized Mallory from that video, so I think he was a little star struck.”
“He’s not the first.” I clap him on the back. “You’re a good guy for looking out for the kid.”
He glances back at the bar where the kid’s staring straight ahead, sipping on a bottle of soda. “He’ll be an asset to the club. A good leader one day. If he learns to keep his damn dick in his pants.”
“Won’t we all,” I mutter, making Grinder laugh.
Even though we’re laughing it up, I wonder what Grinder has in mind for the future of his club. Their current president, Ruger, keeps pushing them into riskier business deals and I imagine it’s causing a lot of friction with their members. Ruger sent his SAA out here with only a few of his men. While our clubs get along, it sends a lukewarm message at a time we’ve been working to bring most of the outlaw clubs in the area together.
With the way law enforcement’s been cracking down on motorcycle clubs lately, it’s in all our interests to stay under the radar. A message not every outlaw accepts. Tonight’s a test of sorts and I guess we’ll see who passes.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Mallory
I emerge from the kitchen and find the chapel doors firmly closed and the clubhouse mostly empty. My gaze lands on the flirty young biker sitting at the bar all by himself.
“So, Rock.” I sneak up behind him.
Either he heard me coming or he doesn’t startle easily. He turns and stares at me with a raised eyebrow, patiently waiting for me to continue.
“You said you recognized me from ‘Candy Jar’. How’d you not know I was with Chaser? Stories about us have been on MTV, in every music magazine, and tabloid for months now.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “You think going to school and working for the club leaves me time for shit like sittin’ around watching MTV and flipping through gossip rags? Please. I caught the video while I was manning the door at our strip club.”
Feeling foolish, I blurt out the only question that comes to mind. “Aren’t you a little young to be hanging out at a strip club?”
He shrugs and takes a swig of soda.
I tilt my head toward the chapel. “Why’d you get kicked out?”
“Never got invited in.” He taps his plain black leather cut. “Not a patched member.” He nods to one of the other prospects who came with the Lost Kings. “Not even a prospect yet. Grinder lets me be involved more than a regular prospect, but not today,” he says, pride coloring his words. From the information I’ve gathered about the MC world, unless his father’s a member, allowing him to be so involved at such a young age is unusual.
“Is your dad a member of the club too?”
“Nah, he’s a useless drunk since my mom died.”
My heart breaks at the matter-of-fact way he states such a tragic situation. While he came on strong at first, he doesn’t seem to hold a grudge over me shutting him down. Now that he’s not trying to impress me, he’s actually kind and easy to talk to. “My mom died when I was a kid too,” I say softly.
“Sorry.” He stares at me with calm gray eyes for a few seconds. “Your father treat you okay?”
“More or less.” I snort out a laugh. “He’s in prison at the moment.”
He doesn’t even blink. “Got any other family?”
“Just Chaser. And the family he’s given me.”
“Sometimes it’s not about the blood you share. It’s about finding the ones willing to bleed for you.”
Wow, such a painful lesson to have already learned at his age.
For a moment I’m speechless. “Some days I barely even remember what my mother looked like.”
He nods slowly like he understands how hard it is to hold on to precious memories. He slides his hand in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. It takes a few seconds to find what he wants—a small picture of a beautiful young woman with long, shiny brown hair holding a little boy while they both smile at the camera.
“Is that you and your mom?”
The corners of his mouth lift. “Yeah.” He slips the photo back in his wallet and tucks it away. “I like to keep her with me.”
“I don’t blame you. I managed to keep some photos of my mom too.” When I stole money from my dad and ran away to California but that’s hardly a story to share. “They’re at our house in L.A., though.”
He peers over at me. “L.A.’s a long way from here. You like it?”
I reach over the bar and grab a bottle of soda from one of the buckets of ice while considering his question. “Yes and no. California itself is beautiful. Vastly different from the East Coast.”
“First thing I want to do when I can ride is take a cross-country trip.”
“Chaser and I did it once. I don’t remember much of it though.”
My fingers slip on the bottle cap and I search for something to open it with. Rock takes it from me, pulling an opener from his pocket and popping the top before handing it back.
“Thanks.”
“Go on.” He circles his fingers in a continue-the-story-gesture. “California.”
“Well, L.A. Hollywood. It’s an ugly business.”
“Sounds like you’re successful, though.”
Am I? And at what cost?
I glance away, uncomfortable talking about my success or lack thereof. “I’m like one, single speck of glitter in a bucketful that gets tossed around every week out there. For every successful big name actor you could name right now, there are probably two thousand struggling to make it.”
“Shitty odds.”
“It brought Chaser into my life, so I can’t complain.”
My soul searching is halted by the front door to the clubhouse slamming open.
Rock jumps off his stool, placing himself between me and the man who storms inside.
Before he gets himself into more trouble, I tap Rock’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I recognize him.”
I wave. “Hi, Bishop. How are you?”
He gives me a quick chin lift. “The old man here?”
“They’re in the chapel.” Shit, what am I supposed to do? Stump’s made it crystal clear I’m not supposed to disturb the men when they’re at the table. Bishop’s from another club, is he even allowed at the table? Lost Kings are there, so maybe? I bite my lip unsure of what to do.
Thankfully, Tally solves the problem for me. He pushes the door open and waves Bishop inside. Rock watches the men carefully until the chapel doors close.
“The Saints’ SAA hang here frequently?” he asks in an almost too casual way.
“Once or twice,” I answer vaguely. For some reason, I have a feeling that information falls under club business I shouldn’t discuss with outsiders. Not even a horny thirteen-year-old who’s a hell of a lot smarter than he looks.
I look him over once more. Maybe that was his purpose for coming today. Chat up Chaser’s old lady and see what information he can bring back to the club?
He catches me studying him and a half-smile tugs at his lips.
Too bad the only stories he’ll have to bring back to his club are about my dead mom and the perils of Hollywood.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Mallory
Our L.A. bungalow is dark and quiet when we return. Not a reporter in sight.
“Thank fuck,” Chaser mutters as he opens the door.
There’s a script for Shallow End waiting for me but I don’t have the energy to look at it yet.
I press play on the answering machine and Marilyn’s fr
ustrated voice grates my nerves. “Ocean Ave. was picked up! You’ll start filming after New Year’s.” There’s a pause. “I have something else to discuss with you but I’d rather do it in person than over your machine. Call me when you’re back.”
“I only caught the last part, but it sounded ominous,” Chaser says.
“Well, I’m too tired to call her now.” I clap my hands together and let out a happy squee. “The part you missed is that Ocean Ave. got picked up for a full season.”
“That’s awesome.” He hugs me tight and my body perks up from the closeness. “So proud of you.”
Maybe I rub myself against him a little too long. He grasps my hands and pushes me back. For a second we stare at each other. He bites his lip. “I’m gonna go pack a bag for tomorrow.”
I follow him into the bedroom. “I’m going to tell Marilyn I don’t want to renew the contract for Shallow End.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“I really hate it.” I kneel on the bed next to the bag he’s packing. “Chaser? Are you sure you still want me?”
He stops moving and stares at me. “Are you out of your damn mind? You’re my girl. You’ll always be my girl, no matter what.” He drops the T-shirt in his hand and clutches my hip. “How could you ever question that?”
“After…”
He tips my head back. “Baby, I can’t keep my damn eyes or hands off you. I’m hanging on by a thread over here.” He runs his knuckles over my cheek. “I’ve been trying to give you space and time. That’s all.”
“Oh.”
He leans in and presses a soft kiss against my lips. “I hate leaving again too.”
While I’m sad he’s leaving, Chaser’s been my anchor in a tumultuous sea these past few days. I won’t do anything to make him feel worse. “Vegas will probably be a fun show. I’ve never been. I wish I could go with you.”
“But then I’d drag you off to the first chapel I find to get hitched and we wouldn’t have your dream beach wedding.”
“I’d be okay with that,” I whisper.
