But to be with the same woman for the rest of forever seemed far-fetched to Splice, though most of his buddies were loved up and seemed to enjoy it. He just reckoned that some men weren’t meant for that lifestyle, because if a relationship were ever going to stick, it would have happened already with the number of women he’d casually dated.
There was a time, he remembered, when he’d wanted only one woman, but that ended abruptly.
Splice switched his gaze toward Tomb again, who was draining his glass. Though older than him by a decade, his closest friend had a wise head on his shoulders, and Splice knew the guy would limit his booze, mainly because of what was happening tomorrow.
“You got your fair share of that,” he remarked and watched Tomb’s eyes light up, amused. “Since you’re getting married again.”
“And it was my idea.” He seemed proud of that fact as Tomb flashed a grin. Splice laughed and shook his head.
Right then, a crash was heard, and Splice twisted around on the barstool in time to see two old goats breaking a low coffee table as they landed on it. Grappling, punches were thrown, and a baying crowd laughed at their antics.
It wasn’t a good funeral until someone was bloodied.
After a quick scuffle, the two elderly men swayed, their arms linked, as they made their way to the rear.
Axel and Bash joined the pair.
Their Prez announced. “I’m heading out soon. Don’t wanna leave Scarlett overnight.”
His old lady was expecting their first child.
Chain’s wife was also in the latter stages of pregnancy.
“I’ll go with you, Prez,” Splice told him. “I don’t wanna bed down here.”
Bash nudged him with his shoulder, half-smirking. “You don’t have your eye on any sweet things?”
Splice hadn’t even looked.
He was that far into celibacy, but no one seemed to take him seriously when he told them, so he’d stopped saying it. Instead, he shook his head. “Not enough to give up sleeping in my bed tonight. I need to be prettier than ever to stand with my boy tomorrow.”
The others laughed.
“Second fucking wedding, in this economy.” Said Bash, but Tomb only smiled. Because he was always at Tomb’s place like his second home, Splice knew better than anyone that he’d do anything for her.
“What was that?” Asked Tomb, craning his neck to eyeball Bash, their club secretary. “Didn’t you buy your little nurse a state-of-the-art camper van earlier this year because she got a fancy for traveling around the country? How many days did she last before wanting to come home?”
“Three,” Axel answered, amused, when Bash hesitated.
The teasing went on about who spoiled their old ladies the most.
It was a conversation Splice couldn’t add to, but he enjoyed ribbing the guys about their sappy ways.
As he climbed off the stool, he felt himself being bookended by soft bodies on either side. He switched his gaze to the woman on his left. With blonde hair streaked with pink and soft curls cascading over her shoulders, she looked up at him, her pink lips smiling as her fingertips brushed his shoulder.
“Hi, I’m Lyra. Is there anything you need, sugar? Food? Drinks? Double company?” She smiled and walked her fingertips up his chest. Her friend was pressed against his side, and Splice levered his gaze between the pair. Sara introduced herself and mentioned they were cousins, then slipped her arm through his flirtatiously.
“We saw you looked lonely and came to change that.”
God, he loved forward women, so Splice grinned at the pair. As beautiful and open as they seemed, his answer would be the same anyway.
“Thanks for the generous offer, ladies, but I’m about to head out.”
They gave him matching pouts. “Aww, really? You don’t wanna change your mind? I promise we can make it worth it.”
He bet they could, but he still untangled himself from the women. It took him another five minutes to escape them, and he met Axel and the others outside. Some of the Diablos were too wasted to drive, so they were staying overnight.
“Didn’t expect to see you, brother,” Axel remarked, straddling his bike as he tied his hair in a tail at his neck before he slipped on a pair of leather gloves.
