“Slash.” Popeye rests his elbow on the bar top. “The boy is back.”
I take his hand and squeeze. He’s the only one who can call me boy and get away with it. I’ve known him my whole life. He’s a legacy member and like a second father to me.
“Just for the night.” I sit, and Popeye grabs me a beer.
“You ever coming back?” he takes the opportunity to fuck around with me.
“Of course. Who do you think I am, my father?” I take an eager sip of the ice-cold brew.
“You do possess a slight resemblance to his ugly mug.” Popeye laughs, and it’s a thick, gurgling sound.
“Go fuck yourself, old man,” I smirk.
Popeye laughs even harder, his gurgling voice morphing into a full-blown hack.
“Easy there. You’re gonna give yourself a stroke.”
“At least I’d go with a bunch of pretty ladies around me.” He winks his one good eye, referring to Harley and Davidson — not their real names, by the way — who are manning the bar with him. Really, Meghan — Harley, and Davidson — Vanessa, are doing all the work. He just hobbles around back there, getting in everyone's way and drinking up all my scotch.
“How ’bout a little fire, Scarecrow?” A rush of heat passes across my face. I instinctively react, leaning back and grabbing the offender’s wrist, yanking his body forward until his chest hits the bar top. There’s a thud on impact, and then a huge, howling cackle.
“Gets ya every time.” Breaker is in hysterics.
“Do you have a death wish?” I try to hold back my own amusement. Shithead is always pulling stupid stuff like that. “Messing with the Prez has its price.” I kick his legs apart and knee at his nuts.
“Yo, yo, yo, watch the family jewels.” Breaker uses his free hand to protect his balls. “It might be worth it, though. The look on your face.” His body shakes with the fit of his laughter. It’s infectious.
“I thought I lost an eyebrow for a second.” I haul him upright, then give his head a good shove.
“Missed you, brother.” Breaker puts an arm around me and nods to Davidson. “Hey, Pretty, a beer and a shot for the two of us.” He winks and smiles, laying it on thick. Breaker lays it on thick to any woman with a decent-sized rack and a pulse. He redefines the term man-whore.
Damon La Rue, or Breaker as we affectionately call him because he can either be a heartbreaker or a ballbreaker, depending on the day, has been part of the Baumer Mafia as long as I have. He’s one of my oldest friends. We grew up in this bar together watching our dads drink, fight, and womanize. Breaker’s father, Griller, passed away a few years ago. Terrible bout with cancer. But like a true MC, he fought till the end. “To misplaced dads and angel wings,” he toasts with the shot of Jack.
I ignore the misplaced dads comment and clink his glass to angel wings. I miss that ol’ man. Griller, I mean.
“You two gonna make out at the bar all night, or are we gonna play some fuckin’ cards?” a booming voice thunders through the room.
“Keep your fucking pants on, Bone.” Breaker picks up his beer. “I was getting in some quality time with my Prez.”
“Well, quality time is fucking over,” he vibrates with anticipation.
Breaker shakes his head, and his unruly hair flops all over the place. “You gonna do something with this mop?” I give it a tug. “Or just wait for it to get caught in something?”
“Oh, I’m definitely waiting for it to get caught in something.” He’s lewd. “Tangled up in ten fingers while Davidson over there is screaming my name.” He leans over and winks at her.
Davidson, or Vanessa, just rolls her eyes and serves another customer.
“Got a hard-on for that one, huh? She doesn’t seem to want to give you the time of day.”
“She’ll come around.” He blows a kiss at her. She ignores him like a pro. It isn’t anything new that the bartenders get hit on. That’s what they’re there for. Booze and boobs. And they’re called either Harley or Davidson so no one forgets their name when yelling for a drink. I made it easy for everyone.
Breaker and I finally meander over to a broad man with a thick, red beard and ponytail. He’s decked out in leathers and looks ready to kill — which is Bone’s normal appearance. Big, burly, and scary as all hell.
We follow Bone into the back room where several poker tables are scattered around. It’s been known to get pretty intense in here on poker nights, but tonight, it’s just us. Me and my boys. No bullshit, just cards and good booze.
I’m met with a warm welcome around the table. All the usual suspects are here. Breaker and Bone, of course, along with Hawk, Fender, Vet, and Tempest. Six of my favorite ugly mugs.
“Let’s get this show started.” Tempest shuffles the cards in a flashy display.
