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The door opened and a gust of icy air made a chill run through her body as she glanced over her shoulder to see Hack, his friend Mike and the little girl Sydney walk in. Thoughts of Ax straddling a chair and mocking the thrusts he’d provided to her in the past dissipated at the sight of the man currently angling his daughter toward a table with a protective grip on her shoulders.
“You’re on my list Ax, practice is starting soon, I’ll let you know.” Snagging her can and tossing her purse across her body so it rested at her hip, she walked over to the table where they’d settled in as Hack had headed up to Red’s office leaving his friend to fend for himself. “Hi there Sydney, Mike.”
She set her can down on the table and knelt next to Sydney. “Can I get you something to drink. I think I could find you a root beer or orange soda?”
“Do you have Sprite?” Sydney asked in a low voice her eyes lifting from the tightly twisted blanket she used as a shield on her lap.
“Sure, I can find that for you. Mike, do you want something too?” Porsche cocked her head to the side, waitressing was one of her many talents. “It’s going to be a bit before dinner is served.”
“Um, a root beer would be good. Thank you.” Mike began to stand. “I can go get them if you want.”
“Let me go to the bar and get your drinks, Sydney probably wants you close. I really don’t mind.”
“If you’re sure.” Mike sat back down, his eyes cutting to his daughter as worry furrowed his brow and he scanned the room in a way she’d seen more than once with the men who were used to running missions.
“Trust me, we share the load around here.” Porsche headed to the bar. “Ax can I get a Sprite and a root beer for Hack’s friends over there?”
Another gust of cool air blew Roadkill, Nightingale and Dreamer into the clubhouse. The crew assigned to cooking was here meaning she needed to help in the kitchen.
“You good Porsche?” Roadkill approached her. “I left the clinic around two and hadn’t seen you yet.”
“Yeah, I’m good.” She shimmied her hip a bit to make the pills shake in her purse. “Doc put me on a rack and tortured me long enough she was comfortable giving me drugs.”
“Okay,” Roadkill said as she placed her hand on Porsche’s arm sending the strangest sensation. A mix of comfort from a friend and unease from being comforted as if Porsche didn’t understand the motivation. “We all care about you.”
“Never a doubt,” she said plastering on the fake smile she’d mastered years ago. “I was just grabbing our new friends something to drink. Let me introduce you.”
Porsche placed one can on top of the other and headed over to the table where Mike sat sentry next to Sydney. Roadkill followed, flanked by Nightingale and Dreamer.
“Here you go.” She placed the two cans on the table. “Mike and Sydney this is Roadkill, Nightingale and Dreamer. They are Ol’ Ladies of a few of the guys here. Mike and Sydney are friends of Hack’s and decided to come visit for spring break.”
“Cancun is played out I guess,” Nightingale said with a soft laugh
Mike stood and extended his hand to shake only to have Porsche shake her head slightly indicating the faux pas in the face of patched and claimed women. Acknowledging, standing, greeting all good, touching, not so much. He quickly got the message and retracted his hand.
“It’s a pleasure,” he said placing his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Syd can you say hi to these nice ladies.”
She shook her head and started to prod only to have Roadkill hold a hand up to stop him.
“Around here, we don’t force kids when they’re uncomfortable,” she said taking the hard tone Porsche was so used to it wasn’t until she saw Mike’s reaction did she realize the harshness of it. “Around here we don’t force hugs or conversation. Politeness doesn’t mean a child has to speak. Trust is earned around here and in about an hour this place is going to be full of people she’s never met before. Don’t push her, not a man or woman here will have an issue with her silence.”
“Plus there’s a good chance when the kids roll in here they’re going to get her out of her shell,” Dreamer said tucking a bit of her coppery hair behind her ear. “For the most part they have zero fear which means to them everyone is a friend.”
“Why do they call you old?” Syd ask as she plucked at the aluminum tab on her can, but not because she couldn’t open it, she was fidgeting.
Roadkill laughed. “We’re not old. They call us Ol’ Ladies it’s just a name they use for women in a motorcycle club.”
“Porsche are you one of the Ol’ Ladies?”
“No, they have a different name for me,” she said not about to explain what a Hoez was to an eight year old.
“We’re wives—”
“Or soon to be wives,” Nightingale corrected.
“Or soon to be of some of the members. My husband is the president and they call him Red. Nightingale is Mountain’s woman and Dreamer has been married to Freaky for close to a year now.”
“That’s a lot of names to remember.” Sydney’s downcast eyes had warning bells chiming for Porsche.
