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Not today. Sully looked up at him and frankly, looked murderous. Deadpan, like he was suddenly empty. Lyle stopped in his tracks.
“You got eyes? Read the menu,” Sully snapped.
Lyle raised an eyebrow. “Alright, man, I was just asking if you thought it was any good-”
But then there was a shriek from beside them. “Oh my fucking god, Sully, is that a love bite?” It was Jessie, resident sweetbutt and Sully’s regular at the moment.
Sully looked at her but fixed her with that same deadpan stare. Lyle frowned, this wasn’t Sully. Sully was normally calm, sunny, and cool.
He merely shrugged with one shoulder, a lazy gesture and carried on eating.
Jessie pouted. “Sully, I thought you were with me all last night, did you slip out of bed and find someone else?”
He shrugged again.
“You fucker, after everything you said the other night-”
“Wasn’t tired.”
Jessie was clearly hurt. “But you said-”
“Don’t care what I said, I ain’t yours, baby. You know how it works.”
Jessie opened her mouth to argue back.
But Sully picked up his plate, and without a backward glance, slouched off to the kitchen.
Lyle watched and sure enough, on the side of his neck was a dark purple hickey. Jessie pursed her lips and flounced out the way she had come in.
“Wow, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Lyle commented.
Rita gave him a sidelong look, neatly balancing a sliced strawberry on the edge of her glass. “Told you, Sully’s a moody bastard sometimes, you’ve only seen Sully being all friendly with you, but there’s a darker side to him, he’s fucking Jekyll and Hyde that one-”
Lyle rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, I’m still not convinced that he didn’t just piss you off, Rita, but whatever.”
Rita tutted. She held up her glass, a very beautiful elegant creation, admiring it for a second, before promptly necking it down in one. She chased it swiftly with the strawberry, again, one big mouthful, chewing loudly. She smacked her lips and bounded out from behind the bar. Lyle would kill to down a drink like that. Fuck, he needed a drink.
Colt came out of the kitchen at that moment, with a plate of food in his hand.
“You eaten lunch yet, brother?” Colt asked.
Lyle sighed and shook his head, eying the plate of food. When had he last eaten? A decent square meal, not just fucking greasy takeout in between black outs? Lyle bit the inside of his cheek. But then, he didn’t feel hungry. He didn’t feel anything these days. Except thirst. Thirst for alcohol.
Lyle thought about sitting down, getting a plate of food, having a calm, friendly chat with his Prez. But then he thought about it more. Colt asking him how he was doing, how much he was drinking, how he was feeling…
Yeah, fuck that.
He slouched out of the bar area, feeling Colt’s blazing stare on him with every step.
* * *
He followedthe sound of straight pipes revving loudly, into the parking lot out the front of the clubhouse. Everyone’s shiny motorcycles were always lined up neatly outside. His own motorbike hadn’t been ridden in a while. Lyle couldn’t remember the last time he rode. He was realizing he couldn’t remember very much at all. Except this morning. With Penny.
And Nix and Ash.
Fuck, he thought, as he let the smirk swipe onto his face.
“What you grinning about?” Max said, as he swung himself off one of the motorcycles. He had a chamois over his shoulder, and the new prospect had clearly been put to work on ensuring the bikes stayed spotless.
