I’m more interested in have-a-fuck-of-a-good-time party, reservation of twenty.
Life is short. I’m going to live it.
The conversation shifts to the left. Bone, the massive redhead, bragging about the newest mod to his bike. He’s forever tweaking and upgrading, making it louder, faster, flashier. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the thing was a substitute for what’s missing in his pants. But, sadly it’s not. He likes to brag about that mod, too.
I tune Bone out and notice Tempest staring intently at an hors d’oeuvre in his hand.
“Did you find a fly on it?” I ask him.
“No,” he replies gruffly. He’s definitely the scariest looking one of us all. Chiseled facial features with angles like stone, large gages stretching his earlobes, and tattoos for miles. Even the way he regards you is frightening. Like he’s fantasizing about all the ways he can torture you with just a rusty spoon.
“Then what’s the issue?”
“Why do they have to put it on a stick?” He inspects the small, bunless cheeseburger with tiny pieces of lettuce and tomato. That’s Tempest. Constantly contemplating the mysteries of life.
“Because it’s fucking finger food.” I grab the stick and shove the micro burger into my mouth.
“Hey.” He glares at me. “That was mine.”
“There’s a whole fucking tray. Have at it,” I cheekily give him my permission.
Tempest’s already-dark eyes turn stormy and grey. He doesn’t like it when people get testy with him. Too bad.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll burn one of your eyebrows off.” I whip out my Zippo and flash a flame.
“I’ll piss on that shit.” Temps isn’t intimidated by my threat at all. I suppress my smile ’cause I know he’ll do it.
“Breaker? What’s your fucking issue? You’re extra obnoxious today.” Fender nudges me. “Did you have a bad lay? Need a little extra release?”
I laugh. “Nah, it’s not that. I’m just feeling the love and want to reciprocate.”
“By being a bee stinger?”
“It’s all I know. By the way, your hair looks great today. Extra fluffy.” Fender definitely has the rock-god vibe on point. Leather cuffs, flannel shirt, and fly, feathered hairstyle.
“You jealous?” He rubs my head. “High and tight not working for you?”
“Not exactly the look I was going for,” I admit.
“You’re still a heartbreaker.” Vet hands me another beer from left field.
“Where’d the fuck you come from, Ghost Rider?”
“I was picking up a present.” Vet opens up his leather cut that’s patched Baum Squad on the lapel, and a little, white whiskered head pops out. “She’s for Kira. Think she’ll like her?”
This gesture does not surprise any of us in the least. Vet loves animals more than he loves people. He’s a tad on the awkward side and seems to connect more to four-legged, furry friends than two-legged Homo sapiens.
“Well, look at that little cutie.” Fender scratches the green-eyed kitten under her chin, and she purrs.
“She’s gonna love her, bro.” I smile, assuring him. Sometimes the baddest-looking motherfuckers have the biggest hearts.
“Hey, Ky!” I shout across the glistening pool where he and Kira are conversing intimately. He is one smitten, pussy-whipped amigo. I never thought I’d see the day. “Come over here, and bring your ol’ lady.”
“Damon, don’t call me that.” Kira scrunches her pretty little nose. I know she hates that term, so of course I had to use it.
“And still a ball breaker.” Vet rolls his eyes.
“What can I say?” I shrug. “I am who I am.”
