“It was a challenge, but I managed to work you into my busy schedule.” I clasp his hand. “Hey, Kira.” I wink.
“Hey, Damon, glad you could make it.” The gorgeous blonde smiles up at me as Ky protectively wraps an arm around her.
Chill, bro. Her panties are the last ones I would ever try to get into. Paranoid motherfucker.
“Go grab a drink and stay awhile.” Ky cocks his head in the direction of an impressive table, masterly set up with food and drinks.
“I think I’ll do that.” The plentiful bucket of ice-cold beers is calling my name.
“Good, and start working on your fucking punctuality.” Ky leans in to kiss Kira, and that’s my cue to split.
“I’ll think about it,” I toss out just as their lips connect. Ky whips out his middle finger right before he clutches Kira’s face and deepens the embrace. Sliding his tongue into her mouth for the whole party to see.
For Christ’s sake, get a room.
Congregating in front of the buffet table are all the usual suspects. Fender, Tempest, Bone, and Hawk. I don’t see Vet, though, oddly enough.
They’re all heavily involved in a conversation with Gambit, laughing and speaking animatedly as he stands there with his arm around his picturesque wife. It’s no surprise he is the nucleus of the gathering. Gerard “Gambit” Parish is one of the most stand-up guys I have ever met. He was one of my father’s best friends, and like a second dad to me growing up. When he and Ky had their falling out, it was a tough spot to be in. I didn’t want to disrespect my best friend by reaching out to him, but I didn’t want to turn my back on Gambit either. Luckily, Gambit made the situation easy for all of us. He stepped away. He gave Ky the space he needed, but let us know he would always be here for us. Lady luck was right to shine her light on him. He deserves everything he has and more. And I don’t mean the wealth or riches. He deserves his happiness. He’s seen a lot. He’s done a lot. He’s repented for even more. I know the stories of his past because my father was right beside him every step of the way.
Alfred Baum was an insane motherfucker and expected his club members to follow right along in his footsteps. He wanted to be a man who was feared, not respected, and built a club with a far reach and filthy reputation. I only have a few memories of him. He was up there in years when Ky and I came along, but I still remember his long, straggly grey beard, cold grey eyes, and tougher-than-nails exterior. Alfred may have been the Baum Squad’s founder, but Gerard will be the club’s legacy.
Make no mistake, he’s no one to fuck with, but he would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. No questions asked. And would expect nothing in return.
A guy like me could take a few cues from a man like him. ’Cause if I’m going to give away anything, no matter how small, I always expect something in return.
Always.
I snatch a longneck of Miller Lite and crack it open, joining the little crowd.
“Well, if it isn’t the heartbreaker himself.” Gerard clinks rims with me. “What unsuspecting woman were you sweet-talking today?”
I laugh. If he only knew what my morning was like. “Just the usual model type.”
“We are all suckers for a pretty face.” Gerard kisses Kristen’s neck happily. I’ve only met Kira’s mom one other time. When I came to check in on Ky after some unfortunate events played out with a mentally deranged former Baum Squad member.
“You mean there are some women left in LA you haven’t slept with?” Hawk grunts. “I’m shocked.”
“Shut it, four eyes. You're just jealous you can’t pull tail as well as me.”
“I pull tail just fine,” he gripes. “I’m just pickier where I stick my—”
“Hey,” Gerard cuts him off. “There’s a lady present.”
“Stick my stick,” Hawk fails miserably at eloquently finishing his statement.
“Yup.” I swig my beer egotistically. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Look, God may not have blessed me with money, or book smarts, or any special talent, but he did grant me looks. Good looks. Model-good looks, and I know just how to use them to my advantage. This face has gotten me a lot of things in life. Laid, primarily, but when I turn on the charm, it works on mostly everyone. Hell, that’s how I got through four years of high school; a bat of my baby blues and a flash of a pearly-white smile, and teachers would pass me. Just like that. I don’t know what it is, some kind of charisma on steroids, but it’s my secret weapon, and I have no problem wielding it like one.
“Relax, you two, before a full-blown pissing contest ensues and you yellow the expensive white floor.” Tempest breaks up our verbal grapple.
“Subject change,” Bone cuts in. “Fender is playing the Den tonight. You gonna be there?”
“Of course, like I would miss it.” I bump Fender’s fist.
Now there is a guy who wrestles with some serious demons. He may present himself as having it all together with his commendable paramedic gig and musical genius, but he’s fallen from grace one too many times, and has been slowly and tediously picking up the pieces of his shattered life.
I know all about tedious. My problems drag behind me, chained and wrapped in a tourniquet like the ghost of Jacob Marley. It’s not always an easy existence, but I make it work. I bear the burden without dumping all the bullshit on my friends. I suffer in silence, and yeah, I may blow off steam, a lot, but it’s my outlet. The crushing weight of someone else’s debt takes a toll. Don’t feel sorry for me, though. I’m not interested in a pity party, reservation of one.
