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What did I get in response? A grunt. Yes, an actual grunt.
“Very loquacious,” I said, nodding.
“Anyway, you’ve been here before,” Valen said, clearly wanting to rush through the task of showing me around, likely so he could get as far away from me as fast as possible. “This is the common room. TV. Gaming consoles. Pool. Darts. Bar. Kitchen is through there. Basement down there,” he said, pointing toward it. “Basement is off-limits unless you’re doing laundry. And you don’t go onto the roof unless someone assigns you there. The hallway where the patched brothers live,” he said as we moved toward it.
“The old crew or the new?” I asked because while I was playing at being a prospect, I did need to learn some shit.
“New,” Valen said. “Old crew is still around, but not as active.”
“Even your dad?” I asked, then immediately cringed at how familiar that sounded.
“Yeah.”
“Really? Adler is retired? The man considered being an outlaw biker his retirement,” I added, thinking of all the crazy stories I’d heard about Valen and Violet’s dad, who’d led a really interesting life after a truly tragic childhood.
“Like I said, they’re still around,” he said, brushing me off.
Damnit.
I was losing points already.
I had to at least act like I was completely disinterested in his and his family’s life. If I wanted to know shit, I could track down Vi when she was in town and ask.
“Where’s the prospect room?” I asked, moving the conversation forward. “Do I have anywhere to store some of my stuff?”
He said the next part under his breath, but I was so aware of him right then that I heard every single word, “Yeah, at your own fucking house.”
“What was that?” I asked, tone a little sharp.
“Right this way,” he said, not even looking at me as he led me toward a door then through it.
And inside was, well, a sort of gymnasium looking space, for lack of a better way to describe it.
The wood floors had that sort of honey tone to them, and the walls were stark white and tall. Almost windowless, but there were a couple tiny ones way at the top that were barred, letting a small amount of natural light into the space.
Along the longest back wall was the sleeping situation, a row of black bunk beds with white bedding.
Room for six people in total.
Along the shorter wall were four storage cabinets.
Not enough for all the beds, so if we filled up, we’d need to share.
Beside that was a door to what looked like a bathroom.
And, finally, completing the very sparse, almost militarian space, was an old dining table and mismatched chairs.
On top of the table was a deck of cards and what looked like chips.
No TV.
Not even a radio.
But, I imagined, there wouldn’t be a whole hell of a lot of downtime. I knew enough about the prospecting process to know they liked to run the new guys ragged doing menial tasks around the clubhouse, or even running errands.
“Do you even have a bike?” Valen asked, making me jerk back to the present, finding his gaze on my profile.
“Of course I have a bike.”
