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I sighed. “No. Tate wrote me about six months ago, saying there might be some new evidence in his case but he won’t call me back or see me when I go visit him.” It gutted me to have my baby brother locked up for a crime he didn’t commit. But I hired everyone I could to help get him out and now he’d shut me out. I wanted to help but he was a man, and if he felt the need to fight this battle on his own, I had to let him. Even if it killed me.
“My wife keeps him in her prayers, son. Six years is a long time to spend in prison in general, but especially for another man’s crimes. Want me to see if I can find out anything?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, it’s just I can’t have both things weighing on me.”
“Then you won’t have to. Go to your class. Flirt with a pretty girl and paint something. Talk soon.” He disconnected the call before I could express even more gratitude.
With a shrug, I stood and scanned the living room since it was time to go. I stared at my kutte for a long minute, unsure if I wanted to wear it. In the end, I opted not to wear it, not because I was ashamed of my club. I wasn’t. Reckless Bastards MC saved me when I needed it. Two years ago, I was fresh out of the SEALs and my mind was all fucked up, and all I wanted to do was come see my baby brother. Only to find out he was in jail. No, not jail, fucking prison, and he’d already been there for years. But his club took me in, kept me safe when my mind would have me hurt myself and others. They treated me as one of their own, and eventually I was.
But lately, sleepless nights and a restless mind had made me a shit member. Between Tate and my own fucked up head, I didn’t have time for club business. The Reckless Bastards weren’t like other clubs. We kicked ass only when we needed to and we didn’t fuck with any drugs except grass. Tourists came here for it now and they loved buying legitimately from big ass bikers, and they loved it more that the town was called Mayhem. Because of the pot and the custom bike work, we didn’t need to fuck with guns or hard drugs, instead the third leg of club business was ass. Titty bars and brothels for every income bracket, and it was more than enough to keep us flush.
But still, I knew I hadn’t been carrying my weight at the club. Hopefully this class tonight would help with that too.
The little storefront in the middle of the street looked girly and expensive, the oversized windows featuring pricey paintbrushes and easels. Inside was more relaxed, with soft muted colors surrounding all the materials. “Just go straight on to the back,” a voice called from somewhere to my left.
“Okay, thanks.” I did as the voice said and went down a dark hall that opened into a spacious room with paint splattered floors. Nearly a dozen chairs and easels sat in a half circle and only one other person had arrived, a woman with long white blond hair sat at the chair all the way on the right with her head down as she arranged her palette. I could have taken any seat, but I took the one right beside her.
She didn’t turn or acknowledge me at all so I sat there and looked around, until the teacher came in, a svelte woman with long black hair streaked with silver. She wore a billowing red dress that looked to be made of rayon or some other crinkly material and nearly two dozen bracelets covered her arms. She gave me a strange look, shrugged and went back to setting up her own easel plus the wooden crate in the center of the half circle.
“Hi,” I leaned over and whispered.
“Hi,” she said softly, her voice was smooth and gentle.
“We don’t get graded or anything, do we?” I didn’t look over because she kept her head down, clearly not wanting me to look at her. Or see something, I hadn’t decided yet.
“No. Just a chance to paint. And socialize.”
I opened my mouth to ask her name when several women stomped in on pointy heels, carrying two bottles of wine each, and wearing sashes. One wore a tiara that said ‘bachelorette’. “Shit. A bachelorette party.” A snicker sounded at my right and I grinned. “I’m glad my pain amuses you.”
She laughed again and I realized her voice was deeper, huskier, than it seemed at first. She had the voice of a woman. “Sorry. Incoming,” she whispered and quickly turned away. I swore I heard a squeak but her warning had me on edge.
I looked up to see one
of the women sauntering my way, a little wobbly on her stilts. “Hello, handsome.”
“Uh, hi.” Everything about her screamed ‘woman on the prowl’ from her skintight jeans to her lowcut top that showed everything but the nipple.
“Why don’t you come sit with us?” She leaned over, giving me an even bigger eyeful of round pale tits. She squeezed my arm.
I wasn’t going anywhere. I glanced over my shoulder and leaned forward. “I would, but this is part of our date night and my girl is crazy jealous.” I thumbed towards the blond behind me. “So you should probably join your friends.”
She glanced over my shoulder and I have no idea what she saw, or if she saw anything but a golden curtain of hair, but she huffed, turned and walked off with plenty of swing in her hips. “He’s got a jealous girlfriend so he’s a no go,” she shouted to the rest of her friends. They all groaned their disappointment.
“Thanks,” I whispered. She shrugged and I turned to look at her, what I could see, anyway. She was pretty, her lips were plump and pink, with just a hint of moisture on them. But her cheekbone was high and sharp, like a warrior princess. I couldn’t see much else because her hair hung nearly to her waist in thick wavy tendrils.
The teacher stepped in front of the class, did her spiel and then we all got down to work to paint the fruit, cheeseboard and a decanter half filled with red wine sitting beside the bottle. “Shit.” I mostly drew landscapes and the sky, nothing like this.
“Just focus on what you can draw first.”
He grunted. “I don’t see any trees or an ocean.”
She laughed. “Try the cheeseboard. Focus on the detail in the woodgrain of the board.”
I looked at it again for a long time, taking in the multiple shades of brown and the small crack between the gouda and the brie. “Yeah, I can do that. Thanks.”
“No problem.” She spoke so quietly I had to lean closer just to hear her. I didn’t think it was a power play though, I suspected she was shy. Or wary.
Maybe both. “You’re very chatty,” I told her.
