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Where are you, Carlton?
He hates that name, and so I use it every chance I can get. Why? Because it’s fun to needle him.
I never said I was nice.
On the west side, with my mc.
I can’t help grinning as I text back:
Are you at Chelsea Piers, playing mini golf?
I need to throw in some mention of bikes—pedal bikes. That’d really get under his skin.
I mean, yeah, sure, he had the valet bring his Harley around that night at the Clover Club, but when you have a valet driving your Harley to deliver it to you, I'm sorry, that just doesn't count toward the masculinity factor. I refuse to think of someone who uses a valet as also being a rough and tough guy. It just…doesn’t compute.
Before I can come up with the best way to ask him how fast he can get his Schwinn bicycle to go, he responds:
No, although I can take you there sometime if you really want to go. I’m here at the clubhouse. Wanna come over?
Very much. What is the address?
I’m totally going to Google Map whatever addy he gives me. It’s probably going to be for some Italian restaurant or something.
I’ll warn you; you’ll probably have to give blowjobs to every club member in the joint if you come here.
I study my screen, biting my lip as I think. I’m pretty sure he isn’t being serious, but…what if he is? I mean, I want it rough; I want it from a man, but I don’t want to be gangbanged. That’s too far, even for me.
I decide to play it safe, for now.
We should compromise. You come to my place in Times Square. I don’t have a MC hanging out in the lobby, but I do have a gym.
You want just me, or do you want some of my buddies too?
I gulp. Oh my god, he can’t be serious, right?
Right?
I think your dick is big enough to satisfy me.
As long as you’re happy…
67
Diesel
The car is headed toward Lisa’s and I look over my messages on my phone, trying to make sure that I’ve answered everything. I’m pretty sure I won’t be available for the next several hours.
All of a sudden my phone rings.
I see who it is, and pick up.
You want to know who it is, isn’t it?
You know I can’t tell you. You’re too close to Lisa. You’ll just go and tell her.
Besides, one of the rules of my MC is that I can’t fucking talk about inside business with outsiders. Doesn’t matter who the fuck I am, they’ll take away my patch and maybe even kill me if I started giving out the deepest, darkest secrets of the club.
Don’t worry. We’re not trafficking in women or drugs. At least not this chapter. But we can’t have just every single reader on the Amazon store know our business, you know?
