She’d been here almost three months now. Usually time I wanted to clear out the club bunny room and start again with fresh pussy.
And I’d called her my old lady in front of her ex. That hadn’t been intentional at all.
But I wasn’t in the mood for someone new. I’d deal with it after New Year’s.
Would I have just put off sending Polly away forever. . .
And then. . . we had an unexpected visitor.
My brother Grease arrived at the Clubhouse right after dinner, just as Polly was decorating an apple pie to go in the oven, cutting out little motorcycle shapes and wheels to put on the top of it.
Had watched as she spelled out Legends MC, and crafted the tiny wheels, but when she huffed in frustration when one tiny motorcycle broke apart, I said,
“Don’t fuss. It’s fixable.”
And when my brother came in, I was sitting with her at the table, carefully laying the last motorcycle on the pie.
“Yo, Grease,” Vladdy said, and I looked up.
My brother was staring down at me, his arms crossed. We had always looked similar, both always bigger and stronger than everyone else in the room, only his hairline was now receding and the braid behind his back was thin and lank.
“Grease,” I nodded, and was conscious of a slight embarrassment as I stood up to shake his hand and it was covered in flour.
The Prez didn’t cook.
He was wearing his old cut, and I wondered if that meant he’d want to be active with the club again. For a long time, he had been doing his own shit, and last I’d heard he’d been doing time.
“Bones.”
“Polly, this is my brother Grease.”
And she hopped up, covered in sugar, and looking nothing like a MC ol lady, sweet as honey and pushing her glasses up her nose with a messy hand.
Grease eyed her up and down.
“What is this shit?”
“It’s a pie,” Polly said after a moment when I didn’t say anything.
He snorted. “Bones. Want to talk to you. Club members only.”
“Oh—yes, well, I’ll—just do the pie later. Does—that sound good, Abraham?”
Her eyes looked almost beseechingly at me, but I wasn’t in the mood.
“None of your shit now. Go in the other room. Club business.”
There was a little flash of pain in her eyes as she left, but I turned away.Iran this club.
“What the hell have you been up to?” Grease asked, crushing the beer can in his hands and throwing it on the ground.
He picked up one of the little motorcycles on the top of Polly’s pie with dirty fingers, rolled it into a little ball, then flicked it back on top.
“Same old,” I said as we settled around the table.
Uncle shot me a disgruntled look, while Vladdy’s face looked like stone. What the hell was up with them?
Grease grabbed a cigarette, but Vladdy rapped his knuckles on the table.
