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Muttering something about crazy party girls, the guy punches the address into his GPS, and we take off into the night. Sophie bounces in her seat in her excitement while I laugh at her.
We’re in an industrial part of San Remo when the SUV turns into a warehouse complex. Climbing out of the vehicle, we wave off the driver’s questions of “if we’re sure” and look around eagerly.
There’s an auto garage, locked up, and a glass and chrome café. But the main event is the warehouse-looking “clubhouse.” The windows are lit up, and to get to the small porch, we cross a loose gravel parking lot that continues around the side and past a row of gleaming motorcycles. Sophie giggles at the sight of them.
“That’s so manly,” she sighs. I can’t help but giggle too.
“Imagine Hugh on one of them.”
Sophie’s eyes glaze over, and she looks dreamy.
“That would be the greatest day of my life,” she chokes out. I snag her hand, rolling my eyes, dragging her onto the porch and through the wooden doors.
I’ve never been to a biker bar, but I’m in love with it the second we step inside. Smoky, dimly lit, filled with leather-clad people. This place is amazing. Music is coming out of an old-school jukebox. There are scantily-clad women draped over men in jeans and leather vests playing pool on two large tables in one corner.
The opposite corner has a gleaming motorcycle mounted on a small stage, lit by floodlights. The walls are adorned with pictures of scantily-clad women straddling motorbikes. The bar is long, gleaming wood, with a hundred liquor bottles behind it. The bartender is a cute dark-haired guy in a leather jacket with a snake tattoo curled around the back of his neck. Sophie sighs over the sight of him immediately.
I pull out my phone, texting Lana.
SHELLEY: Here. Where are you?
She doesn’t reply immediately, so I search the crowd to see if I can catch a glimpse of her ash-blonde hair. There are quite a few blondes here, but they’re mainly platinum blonde. Bottle platinum blonde. Honestly, I expected something more likeSons of Anarchy, but this place is awesome. It has fewer long scruffy beards than I was picturing. And more sexy men.
A squeal brings my attention off the room as Lana appears in front of me, throwing her arms around us.
“You came!”
Laughing, we hug her back.
“Of course we came, babe.” Sophie rolls her eyes. “We weren’t missing the party of our fucking lives.”
I nod in agreement. Lana seizes each of our hands, dragging us through the crowd to the bar. The cute bartender eyes Sophie with enough heat to melt plastic as he pours us three beers.
We find a bar table near the pool tables and jukebox, sipping our beers and swaying our hips in time with the beat. Lana is dressed for the party – booty shorts, a tight cropped top, and a leather jacket with cowgirl boots. Sophie and I are dressed for a house party in Pinedale.
As always, Sophie looks like a million bucks in a bright yellow bandage dress. I’m in a black tulle, tutu-style skirt, a low-cut, black lingerie-style bodice blouse, and a cropped denim jacket. I have a weird style, whatever.
“You should have told us there was a dress code. We would have changed first,” Sophie yells over the music at Lana.
I smirk as Lana’s eyes drop to take in our outfits. For all her wearing a bright yellow, eye-catching dress to stand out, Sophie really wants nothing more than to blend in.
“Why?” Lana shouts back. “You ladies look amazing!”
“Thanks! You too!” I shout back, beaming at Lana.
“People are…glaring,” Sophie bleats.
I glance around in surprise. I thought I misheard, and she actually said staring. But no. People are glaring at us. Specifically, several heavily tattooed women who are dressed like Lana is, are glaring at us. One woman, with masses of dark hair, a rich tan, and huge red lips, looks like she’s trying to melt our faces off with her eyes. If looks could kill, we’d need some body bags and a hearse.
The glares only get worse when two guys walk over to us.
“This is Bullseye.” Lana pokes her finger at the blonde with cropped hair, blonde stubble, and colorful tattoos spilling out from the sleeves of his T-shirt and up his neck at the collar.
“And this is Justice.”
She slings her arm around the waist of the dark-haired guy. He has more of a short beard than just stubble, his hair is slightly longer, swept out of his eyes, and the tattoos down his arms are black.
Both guys are wearing jeans, dark T-shirts, and leather vests. At a closer glance, though their vests both say the names Lana introduced them as, plus a1%erpatch, Bullseye also hasL. Bannerstitched on his vest, and Justice hasK. Cartwright, so I’m guessing Lana gave us their biker club nicknames.
