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Three days had passedsince she arrived in Snowshoe. She’d done little else but catch up on sleep. Jupiter reviewed her reflection in the mirror. Brown hair stared back at her and she reminded herself it was for the best. Avoiding the club members was partly due to her healing bruises. The less questions to answer, the better. Thankfully, the makeup was finally covering up the purple and green on her face and a comfy hooded sweatshirt hid the rest. It was time to meet Macha.
Jovial voices drifted up from the floor below, seeping into her very soul. It just felt right to be down there. She descended the small staircase and wound through the hallways until she found the kitchen. The granite countertop and top-of-the-line appliances came as a surprise, as did the man with bright red hair currently dicing vegetables.
“Hey, you must be Queenie’s friend.” He grabbed a celery stalk. “Jupiter, right?”
“Yeah.” She took a seat on a barstool and surveyed the kitchen. It opened to a spacious dining room with a long wood table and matching chairs. She’d heard the bikers during mealtimes, their joking and voices always sounding so pleasant.
“I’m Brewer.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I run the club bar, Booze & Tattoos.”
“And do meal prep?”
He chuckled and added the celery to a growing pile of vegetables. “If the club needs it. We rotate making dinners when the nymphs are busy. With the upcoming Xtreme Winter Games, they’ve been very busy.”
He said the last part with a slight smile and Jupiter immediately wanted to hear a biker’s perspective of the women. “Nymphs are… uh… club girls, right?”
Brewer’s light blue eyes danced merrily. “Yes, ma’am.” He walked to the fridge and pulled out a bag of bell peppers. “My sister, Dolly—I think you met her already— takes care of the nymphs, and the nymphs take care of Macha’s bikers.”
Jupiter nibbled on her right thumbnail, trying to piece together this biker club. Other than what was portrayed on television, she was clueless when it came to their inner workings.
“You have questions.” It was a statement, and one Brewer didn’t seem to mind saying.
She nodded. “A lot of them, actually.”
“I’m not sure I’m the right person to tell you.” Brewer dug out a plastic Tupperware. “But I’ve been in Macha since the day I was conceived, so I suppose I’m as good as anybody.” He quickly put the assortment of diced vegetables in the container and grabbed the peppers. “Hit me with what you got.”
“What is Macha? Is it a person?”
Brewer retrieved a ceramic mug and filled it with black coffee. “Sugar or cream?”
“Cream, please.”
After he handed her the coffee and creamer, he started dicing the yellow peppers. “Coffee first is what I always say. Now, back to the subject at hand. Macha was a Celtic goddess of war, life, and death. She was as badass as they came and men both feared and worshipped her. She was a protectress in battle and peace.”
Jupiter blew on the coffee then took a small sip. “How does she fit into a biker club?”
He finished the yellow peppers and moved on to the red. “Our club is quite different when it comes to women. We treat women with respect and as equals which isn’t the biker norm.”
Jupiter took another drink, hints of butterscotch infusing the brew. “But why? Aren’t women possessions to MCs?”
“Yeah, usually.” Brewer rinsed off the cutting board before placing it in the dishwasher and took the seat next to her. “If you’re a Macha old lady, you put up with a bunch of bullshit from the club. It’s why women deserve our respect and devotion. Any woman can satisfy, but a Macha old lady knows what it means to be truly loyal to her Macha man.”
“Are you saying cheating doesn’t happen?” Jupiter knit her brows. That wasn’t normal in many relationships, let alone one in a motorcycle club.
“Oh, no, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying, if it does happen, the members have a safe outlet for it.” He scratched at his neatly trimmed beard. The only unruly thing about him was his wavy red hair. “Enter nymphs. Macha nymphs have more than one job in the club. The main one is personal satisfaction.”
“Sex.”
He smirked. “Yeah, sex. But they also help us run our businesses, take care of club members’ kids, cook, clean, and a lot more.”
“What do they get out of this arrangement?”
“Our protection and opportunities.” Brewer leaned over and grabbed the pot of coffee, refilling her cup. “Macha doesn’t treat nymphs any different. Any violence toward a woman could result in being thrown out of the club. If a nymph no longer wants to be here, they can leave with our full support.”
After receiving both violence and disloyalty from a man, Jupiter found it difficult to believe. “Someone mentioned that Dolly is the nymph wrangler. What does that mean?”
“Ah, yes. So, Dolly is the madame of the nymphs, which means she makes sure they’re taken care of, they get to work on time, and have chances at a life outside the club should they choose it.” He nodded at a woman passing through to the den. “Dolly has set up many nymphs over the years with spouses, colleges, jobs, the works, and Macha supports this.”
The notion that women were revered struck Jupiter’s heart. It was precisely what she’d hoped to find in a man, and instead, she found it in a motorcycle club.Of all places.
