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Doc nursed his beer, watching the trio play. Cueball lived up to his name. The guy was a pool shark if he ever saw one. Boulder wasn’t bad but got sloppy the more he drank. It was Rubble who shocked him. The guy was built like an ox and had more muscles than a bodybuilder, but on the sergeant at arms, it fit. He was always ready for action. In fact, Doc didn’t see more than one beer pass the big man’s lips.
“You’re up,” Rubble said, handing him a cue stick. “You break.”
Cueball moved to a seat with a club nymph in tow, and Hawk stood nearby, watching as closely as his name demanded. He didn’t miss anything.
“You’re Tank’s son, right?” Rubble said after Doc sank two solids in the pockets.
Doc lined up for another shot but missed. “Yeah. Did you know him?”
The bald man with tattoos on his skull lifted his cue stick. “No, but I heard he was a legend.” Rubble hit three stripes into pockets. His gravelly voice bespoke years of chain smoking. “You plan on staying here or going to Ireland?”
“Not sure yet.” Doc finished off his drink. “I guess it depends how this goes.”
Rubble’s mismatched eyes met Doc’s. Looking into one green eye and one blue had an eerie effect . He didn’t know which one to focus on while they talked.
“Let me give you some advice.”
Doc leaned closer.
“Don’t fuck up.”
Cueball chortled from his spot. “Yeah, don’t fuck up.”
“Shut up, Cue. Should’ve named you motherfucking Parrot,” Rubble barked.
Cueball immediately got to his feet and dragged the nymph with him. Only after Cueball left did Rubble nudge Doc with his elbow.
“That guy gets on my nerves fast.” He smirked. “Just takes a little to scare him.”
Swallowing the initial panic from Rubble’s reaction, Doc laughed. “You’re not too bad.”
The other man sank the eight ball into the pocket and stashed the cash in his jean pocket. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let the other guys know. They’ll think I’m a softie.”
Doc zipped his lips, causing Rubble to chuckle.
“Come on, you look like you could use a stress reliever.” He wrapped an arm around Doc’s shoulders and led him toward the back of the bar. A group of patch members sat in a large booth in the corner. Smoke wafted above them, empty beer glasses on the table.
“Have a seat,” Snoopy said, motioning to the open spot.
Only after Rubble sat did Doc. Snoopy’s old lady, Legs, sat on his lap, affectionately kissing his neck. Klink was beside him, a club nymph only visible by her bobbing head under the tabletop. Boulder was sandwiched between Klink and Rubble, his lap filled with a busty brunette.
“That Irish girl is so fucking hot. I’d like to sink inside that ass. Too bad she’s off-limits,” Boulder said, pinching the brunette’s breast. She squealed in delight and started kissing down the older man’s body. Doc didn’t have to guess where she’d end up—under the table just like the other nymph.
“What do you think, Doc?” Snoopy asked, his dark eyes alight.
“She’s very hot.” He glanced to Rubble and saw him smile into his drink. This was some kind of test. If he reacted, they’d know how he truly felt about Isa. Hell, he didn’t even know how he felt about the quiet woman yet.
“You been with plenty of nymphs, yeah?” Boulder asked. “I heard you’ve been celibate since Phantom’s daughter arrived.”
Keeping his face complacent, Doc nodded. “What of it?”
“I doubt she’d like it if you were trouncing around with the nymphs.”
He shrugged, not liking the conversation’s direction.How does not fucking nymphs give me away?
Boulder took a shot of vodka. “We all figure you and the Irish cutie will get together.”
“Why’s that?”
