Page 10 of The Price of Love

DIMPLES

Luckily, everyone expects me to be smiling because I can’t help it after Storm outsmarted Frost. I want to give Storm a high five, but it’s better saved for when no one’s watching.

Storm pushes through the heavy steel door into the Iron Thorns’ sanctum—our meeting room. It’s where everything important happens. She switches on the light at the same time she turns on the industrial noise-canceling machine.

Usually, the long, scarred wooden table sits in the room’s center, but on church nights, it’s up front to make space for the rows of chairs. Just like us, the chairs are ragtag and mismatched. While we bought new chairs for the clubhouse, here we cling to nostalgia for the early days when we couldn’t afford anything more than furniture picked up from someone’s trash.

The room holds a faint hint of leather, beer, and motor oil, which is likely embedded in the fabric of the chairs. Another reason not to replace them.

Unframed, mostly candid pictures are pinned to one wall. In the center of the chaotically placed pictures are two large framed photos. One is Aces by herself, the other is the original nine club members. Only Diesel and Pinky are left.

As she always does, Storm stops at Aces’ picture and puts her hand against her chest before she moves to the head of the table. We all stand waiting for her to sit. She pauses for a beat before pulling out her chair. As if savoring her victory, she slowly lowers herself, staring at Frost the entire time, almost daring her to sit first.

Frost waits with a sour expression on her face, but as soon as Storm’s ass hits the seat, Frost yanks out her chair. As the VP, her seat is to the right of Storm, but she’ll never be her right hand. That honor goes to me. I sit three seats down with Frost and Jinx between us.

It’s easy to figure out how Jinx got her name. When she was prospecting, anything she touched went to shit or broke. After Aces died, Jinx cozied up to Frost. Since I’m superstitious, it’s best she hangs with Frost and keeps her bad luck away from Storm.

Nails sits last, left of Storm. As the sergeant-at-arms, her job is to keep order and protect the president. She takes her role seriously, and I trust her with Storm’s life. She’s tough as nails, which is one reason she got her name.

Despite her grit and muscles, she’s one of the sexiest women in the club. Instead of having a cut with a zipper, hers laces in the front, and most times, she doesn’t wear a shirt underneath. Her boobs have stopped more fights than her strength. Despite being a wrench jockey and managing Black Briar Motors, her fingernails are always manicured and painted.

Once everyone is seated, Storm says, “I wanted to check in with the officers before church. See if there’s anything we need to discuss behind closed doors.”

She doesn’t look at Frost, but I know who she’s talking to. If Frost doesn’t speak up and then stirs shit at church, it’ll make her look bad.

When nobody says anything, Storm turns to Halo, our treasurer, who sits next to Nails. “Since nobody has anything, I was hoping to get a sneak peek at the financial reports.”

Halo holds up her folder. “Sure thing.” She passes them out, and I glance at the spreadsheet, but I’ll study it later. I prefer hearing what Halo has to say.

“As you can see, our finances are strong,” Halo says. “Last season was a banner year for revenue, and our expenses were in check. We—”

“I think we can do better this year,” Frost says, interrupting Halo.

“Let her finish,” Storm says.

Frost glares but keeps her comments to herself.

Halo continues, but I tune her out, concentrating on the tense energy sizzling in the room. Frost is wound tight. Nails must feel it, too, because her gaze is laser-focused on Frost.

Once Halo finishes, Storm says, “Thanks for the report. Excellent numbers.” She turns to Frost, throwing her a small concession. “Would you like the floor?”

Frost nods. “We should aim higher. It’d be easy to triple, even quadruple our revenue.”

“We’ve talked about adding more Moonlight Races this year,” Storm says.

Frost waves her hand toward Storm as if brushing her off. “Small potatoes. We need to think bigger.”

I lean forward, trying to catch Storm’s expression from this angle.

When Storm speaks, her voice is measured. “I’m not sure we heard the same report.” Storm looks at Halo. “Sounds like our numbers are solid.”

Halo’s head bobs up and down. “Absolutely. We have a strong balance sheet.”

Frost snorts. “If we wanna stay small time. But we’re leaving a lot of money on the table.”

Storm puts her finger on the spreadsheet and pushes it toward Frost. “This number isn’t small to me.”

“All about perspective,” Frost says. “It might look like a big deal here in Cinder Ridge, but clubs downstate would laugh at our pathetic bottom line.”