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“Mav, tell him your fucking news already, brother,” Zach said. Christ, he practically bounced with excitement.
“What, are you a fifteen-year-old girl?” Mav tossed at his friend.
“Just fucking tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Jig asked as he did a quick phone check. For the past week, any time Jig had been more than twenty feet from Izzy, he’d checked his phone nearly every sixty seconds on the dot.
“I—”
“He’s getting married!” Zach blurted.
Both Mav and Jig stared at him.
“What?”
“Seriously, brother?” Mav asked. “Thunder stealing, much?”
“You were taking too long.” Zach shrugged and chuckled. “I’m excited for you guys. What? Fucking sue me.”
“I ain’t gonna sue you, but I might staple your fucking trap shut. It’s my news!”
With a snort, Jig shook his head. “Why the hell don’t you two just get fucking married? You already sound like you are.”
Mav raised a brow at Zach, who scowled like he’d sucked back a mouthful of sour milk instead of beer.
“Fuck no!” Zach said. “I couldn’t put up with your ass night and day.”
“No worries then because I’d be the one taking your ass, not the other way around.”
“Jesus,” Jig muttered. “Wish someone had stapled my trap shut.”
“What?” Mav said with a shrug. “I’d be a shit bottom. Let’s be real.”
“The fuck?” Screw’s voice came from behind the trio. “Who’s bottoming?”
“Zach,” said Jig, completely straight-faced, which wasn’t hard for the guy since he wasn’t the most jovial of the crew.
Screw stopped dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open. “How did I not know this?”
Mav snickered as Zach opened his mouth to respond.
Jig beat him to it. “They’re getting married.”
With his brow wrinkled, Screw said, “Who? Z and Toni?”
“Nah, Mav and Z.”
“What?”
“Jesus Christ,” Zach said on a groan as Mav burst out laughing.
He couldn’t help it, he loved this shit. It fed the jokester inside of him. “What can I say?” Mav said with a shrug. “He’s got a big dick.”
“Seriously?” Zach said as he threw his hands in the air. “This is your fault.” He pointed at Jig. “And when the fuck have you seen my dick to know its size?”
As his mouth turned up in a slow, teasing grin, Mav lifted the bottle to his lips. “You saying I’m wrong? You don’t got a big dick?” He took a drink.
“No, it’s fucking huge. Just saying you’ve never seen it.”
Screw’s gaze bounced between the three of them like a spectator at a ping-pong match. “You three are hurting my fucking brain.”
“Maverick proposed to Steph. She said yes. They’re tying the knot on New Year’s Eve.” Zach said as he smirked at Mav.
What? That little shit.
“Hey! Congratu-fucking-lations, brother,” Screw said, whacking Mav on the back.
The words and gesture barely registered. “Again, thunder-stealer?”
“Yep, dick-looker.” Zach shot him the shittiest grin. Any other time, Mav would have been damn proud of his friend for his shit-giving abilities. Of course, when the joke was on him, it lost some of its appeal.
“All right, enough with the bullshit,” Zach announced, lifting his bottle. In his left hand. “We all love that girl of yours, Mav.”
“Oh, hold up!” Screw jogged around the bar and grabbed a beer for himself. After popping the top and ignoring the fact it flipped onto the floor somewhere, he said, “Okay, I’m good. Continue.”
Mav chuckled. He couldn’t ask for a better fucking family than this group of shit-talking fuckers.
“As I was saying. Steph makes a fantastic ol’ lady, and she’ll make just as good a wife. We’re all glad you found one who’s willing to take you on for life. And this club needs all the happy events it can get. Love you, brother.” Zach lifted his bottle as he finished speaking.
“Love you, brother,” the other three parroted.
Mav cleared his throat and blinked. Some fucking time to develop allergies. “Thanks. I—”
The door to the clubhouse flew open, and a tornado of red hair, muscle, and unintelligible grunts blew through the bar and straight into Copper’s office. Their prez stomped with so much force the liquid in Mav’s bottle rocked like a choppy ocean. Two seconds later, the office door slammed shut, and the Hell’s Handlers’ placard popped off its nail and crashed to the ground.
“The fuck was that?” Jigsaw said at the exact same time the other three held a finger to their nose. “Not it!” they all chorused, staring at a slack-jawed Jig.
“Oh, come the fuck on,” Jig said as tossed his hands up. “No. No fucking way. I’m not doing it.”
“Oh yes you are,” Mav sing-songed.
“Nuh-uh. Find some other jerk-off. Not happening. He’s liable to tear the fucking head off the poor asshole who walks in there.”
“Sorry, brother,” Zach said with a laugh. “You were too fucking slow.”
Jig looked at Mav with the most pitiful pleading expression on his bearded face.
“Sorry, man,” Mav said as he raised his hands. “Rules are rules.”
With a snort, Jig stood and walked behind the bar. He grabbed a bottle of Scotch and speared Mav with a death glare. “Like you’ve ever followed a single goddammed rule in your life.”
