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Anyone was allowed to drink at the bar, but to pass through the doors that connected the Double H to the clubhouse, visitors had to be invited and accompanied by a club member. Most nights started out with drinking in the bar, then the brothers and whatever women they’d gathered for the night would mosey on over to the clubhouse side for a more private party.
Well, sometimes private. Sometimes on full display of the entire club. To each his own. Zach wasn’t much of an exhibitionist, preferring his entertainment to be for his eyes only, but he didn’t mind watching. Could be a nice way to get the evening rolling. Especially if he’d found a woman who also enjoyed a little visual stimulation.
“Hey, Z, ’bout time you got here, asshole,” Maverick hollered as soon as Zach’s boot cleared the doorway.
“I’m ten minutes early.” He accepted a beer from Carli, one of the club girls who’d been hanging around for years, before making his way over to Maverick and the pool table.
Handlers’ Honeys, Double H girls, or just the Honeys, they’d come to be called. Carli also happened to work the pole at the club’s strip joint. And she was one of the unlucky girls to have been on the receiving end of some man’s fists a few days ago.
The right side of her pretty face was covered in a thick layer of makeup, but no amount of goop could hide the swelling. “How you doing, darlin’?” Zach asked.
“I’m good, Zach. You?” Her eyes roamed him appreciatively, but before long returned to Maverick. They’d been messing around on and off for years. Zach suspected Carli was half in love with Mav and secretly hoped she’d one day become his ol’ lady.
Never gonna happen.
But it wasn’t surprising. Mav drew chicks like flies to honey. Something about his hair, or so he liked to brag. It was shaved to stubble on the sides and in back but long on top. He often slicked it back or sometimes even wore it in a man bun. What had he called it? An undercut or some shit. Regardless, he was convinced it was hair porn for the ladies.
Mav would give up his bike before he’d take on a woman long-term. Not that he didn’t like women. Mav liked them too much to ever pick just one. That and a shit upbringing being passed from one foster home to another had built a deep-seated distrust of women. But he didn’t need to trust them to fuck them.
“Beat it,” Maverick said to her.
Her expression fell, but she left. In the end, she was just a club girl. Not anyone’s ol’ lady, so she did as she was told. Mav didn’t mean to be a dick to her, but if he gave her an inch, she’d be writing his name with hearts and flowers. Cold hard truth of it was she was there to fuck, nothing more. Best not to blur the lines.
“Bad news?” Maverick asked after Carli was out of earshot.
Zach clinked the neck of his bottle against Mav’s then downed half of it in one long gulp. “The worst.”
“Fuck.” Named Road Captain about a month ago, Maverick was new to board meetings, but no less invested than the guys who’d been in charge for years. The club was his life, as it was for most of them.
Mav was tall and strong but lean as a whip. And he modified his body as often as others changed their socks. Who knew what he’d do when he ran out of skin to ink. Maybe move on to piercings, though Zach’s best friend claimed he was leaving the holes at eyebrow, tongue, nipples, and some kind of metal in his cock. Made Zach’s balls shrivel imagining someone aiming at his junk with a needle.
“Any idea how Copper’s gonna want to handle it?” Mav returned his pool cue to the rack.
“Not sure. But I’m guessing some kind of show of force will be necessary to get the message across. Let’s move. You know Prez will flip his shit if we’re late.”
Just then, Copper poked his head out of the meeting room. “Why the fuck am I in here by myself? I get any more alone time and I’m gonna whip my dick out and start beating off.”
“Told ya,” Zach mumbled as Mav chuckled.
They filed into the meeting room along with the rest of the board members. Copper sat in his usual spot at the round table with his VP, Viper, at his right-hand side. Viper had a good fifteen plus years on Copper, but never wanted the president’s patch. Instead, he was the best fucking VP around. Gave everything he had to the club and kept Copper in check. He’d been around, seen it all, and knew how to advise his leader. In great shape for a man in his late fifties, Viper had a long, graying beard and even longer hair. Mav often compared him to a young Willie Nelson.
