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The mood in his office was shit, but everybody nodded, so at least this particular pain in his ass was over for now.
~oOo~
The Horde was due in that night, and the party was already hopping as dark fully dropped, before their guests had rolled in.
It was a Tuesday, not usually a night the Bulls partied hard. They were located in the city and had neighbors all around, and they tried to be an asset to their community, not a pain in its ass. But they meant to be in SoCal Friday for the charter party, and that was fifteen hundred miles, so they were leaving tomorrow morning.
Five hundred miles a day for three days, and then a few days later, turn around and do it again. Once upon a time, Eight would have been able to ride that with no problem and loved every second, but these days, with his bum leg, and the usual aches and pains of a hard life moving up into deep middle age, that third day was going to kill him. And god help him on the day they finally made it home.
For now, though, the Bulls were throwing their first real humdinger of a party in a year. Carly, the sweetbutt in charge of the sweetbutts—they called her the chick wrangler, and Sage had wrangled Becker into making that an actual paid position—had all the girls in the house and tricked out for their guests. Since Eight still considered Sage the clubhouse queen, he’d called and asked for her help, and she’d come in that afternoon to make sure the food and drink were in place and everybody knew who was supposed to take care of what.
Eight had watched her being her usual tiny dynamo self, and knew she really was okay. Though she’d been quiet most of this past year, she wasn’t going to shrink up and hide on her compound permanently. She and her kids would stay in the family Becker had made for them.
She didn’t stay for the party, however. Once she was sure everything was set, and she and Carly had conferred about whatever magic the women did to make parties go right, she gave Eight a fist bump, waved at everybody else, and slipped away.
Otherwise, though, they had a full house. Every patch was there, except JJ, and most of the old ladies as well. Even a few club kids, those old enough to be present at a party like this.
Kelsey Helm, Mav and Jenny’s oldest, was the oldest of that generation, something like twenty-six—an actual grownup with an actual grownup job as a veterinarian. She’d come in early to help with setup and was now hanging with her mom and a couple other old ladies.
Quentin Fitzgerald, Fitz and Kari’s oldest, recently twenty-one, had just walked through the front door, in his usual paint-spattered black jeans and ratty black sweater. He was an artist—or, as Eight always snarkily said it,artiste.
That kid was a mystery to Eight, but he always managed to get trim in the clubhouse, even without the kutte, which he had no interest in wearing. Eight was glad about that. He was a good kid and loved the club, but he was way too fucking emo to take the Bull.
Apollo and Jacinda’s girl, Athena, was right behind Quentin. She had just turned eighteen, and this was her first clubhouse party. Watching that pretty little girl make her way through the already crowded party room, Eight wondered how she’d do tonight.
Not that she was in any danger; nobody would dare make a move on a club daughter at a party, much less hurt her. Still, she was a fragile thing, and mostly deaf, and things would get wild. How would she navigate it all?
Well, it wasn’t Eight’s problem. Her parents were here, and she was, officially, now a grownup.
He smiled as Athena and Quentin went to Sam, Simon and Deb’s oldest, and the three immediately launched into a lively conversation with their hands. All the kids and most of the rest of the Bulls family were fluent in ASL. Eight did okay with it, he thought, at least proficient for as much as he needed it to communicate with Athena, who also, thankfully, read lips.
Apollo and Jacinda had, apparently, had a months-long, knock-down, drag-out fight when their daughter was little. Eight had been inside at the time, so he only had second-and third-hand accounts to go by, but as he understood it, Apollo had wanted Athena to get that implant thing to help her hear, and Jacinda had insisted Athena didn’t need it, that there was nothing wrong with her, she just communicated differently.
Eight thought that was fucking stupid.Obviouslysomething was wrong with her. She couldn’t hear. But Jacinda, who was almost as bossy as Sage, with a bonus black belt in krav maga or muay thai or some shit, had finally won, saying it should be Athena’s call when she was older and could understand. And the whole damn family had to learn sign language.
By the time Eight was out of McAllister, most of the club was fluent. Since Athena had been a little kid back then, and he’d had enough trouble just remembering how to be a human being, he’d blown it off, thinking who cared if he could talk to her. Eventually, though, he’d felt left out, so he’d asked Apollo to teach him.
When Apollo and Jacinda decided Athena was old enough to choose, she’d chosen not to get the implant, so Eight supposed her mother had been right, and all that ASL was still very much in use.
Athena signed something—Eight couldn’t see her hands well enough to know what, but it was obviously funny, because Q and Sam both laughed loud enough to carry across the crowded room
Sam was eighteen, too, a few months older than Athena. Like his old man, he was big and shaggy. The kid had started growing a real beard in high school.
Eight had always thought Sam would want to prospect, but so far, he didn’t seem inclined. Eighteen was young yet—technically old enough to prospect, but they usually liked another mile or two on the men they considered for a patch. He was a good strong boy, though, working the farm with his mother. He’d do well with a patch.
Eight didn’t know where all the kids too young for a party like this were, but no doubt they were all together. That had become a tradition, where they had a sleepover or whatever, and the kids too young for partying but old enough for babysitting took charge of the young ones. With Sage gone, he wasn’t sure who was managing that. Probably Jenny.
The Bulls had become a huge fucking family. All these kids growing up, some of them near old enough to make yet another generation. All these husbands and wives, bikers and their old ladies, keeping their kids happy and well despite the wild way they made their living.
Eight had always been proud to be a Bull. The one solid thing in his life, the one place he had a place, even if he’d stood off to the side. Now he was at the head, and he was still proud to be a Bull, though he worried he didn’t have it in him to do the club justice as its leader.
Tonight, however, was the first time he could ever remember feeling like an outsider because he didn’t have a family of his own.
He wasn’t the only single guy in the club. He was the oldest, but Gargo wasn’t that much younger than him. There was no reason he should feel he was missing out on anything.
But he did.
~oOo~
