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Without warning, Ghost pulls off his cut, laying it across the wooden bar before ripping off his black shirt. His chunky, silver rings clank against each other as he aggressively points to a freshly tattooed snake on his pec.
“Damn, she did that?” I ask, inspecting the badass art across his chest.
He nods, smiling like a proud papa bear while putting his shirt and cut back on.
“I’m low-key pissed as hell I lost her behind the bar. She has the best fucking personality to work that shit.”
“Give her time, man. I’m pretty sure she’ll come back once in a while,” Tiny says.
“That’s the truth,” Patch adds with a nod.
“Alright, fuckers. I gotta be up early. Don’t burn the place down,” Ghost states with a yawn before draining the rest of his beer.
Patch slides another beer across the bar to Tiny and I before I can protest. I look to Tiny for some sympathy, completely beat from the day and wanting nothing more than to follow in Ghost’s lead and get in my own comfy bed.
“Come on, man. One more,” Tiny says just asBlack Dogby Led Zeppelin comes over the surround system.
I let a grin pull at my lips and grab the beer off the bar, and stroll over to the vacant pool table. I feel Tiny follow behind me and see him stop near the cue rack. I hold the mouth of my beer between my teeth as I rack the balls.
When I’m done, I take a healthy swallow and drop the bottle on the high top. I catch the stick Tiny tosses my way and lean against the table as I wait for him to break.
After Tiny sinks two solid balls, he scratches on his next shot, making it my turn.
“I haven’t played in a long damn time, don’t fuck with me,” I glare at Tiny before breaking into a smile and taking my shot.
I’m just as surprised as Tiny when I successfully sink four stripes.
Even though I start off strong, Tiny still beats me in the end. Despite the loss, I don't think I did too bad for not playing in so many years.
While Tiny racks the next round, my eyes drift over the club once again and land on a raven-haired woman and a blonde sitting on the couch across the way. I don’t let my gaze settle for too long before I move on. There is nothing too intriguing to look at, but I bet if a brown and curly-headed spitfire was sitting there, my eyes would be glued.
I’m pulled out of my perusal when Tiny slaps his open palm against my shoulder. “Your turn to break, brother.”
During our second round, Razor comes over, landing his ass in one of the tall bar stools. “I get winner.”
We assemble a small audience. Drinks are flowing and the noise is deafening. I have to take a pause in the bathroom when it becomes overwhelming. Prison can get pretty damn loud, but not for long periods of time since the guards could be dickheads about it. The constant noise that is a clubhouse full of drunk men and women alike has my brain ready to explode with sensory overload.
While in the bathroom, I decide to call it a night and head down the hall towards my room, pulling an Irish goodbye.
Before I can make it there, the raven-haired woman from the couch stops right in my tracks and smiles up at me, giving me her best fuck-me eyes.
“Ringer, right?”
“That’s me.”
“I’ve heard so much about you,” she purrs, pressing her slim hand against my chest. I look down at her pale skin against my cut.
I fucking hate when chicks grab my cut.
I gently take her by the wrist and remove it from my chest. “I bet you have.”
“All good things,” she says, biting her lip while looking down at my dick.
I let out a chuckle. “Barking up the wrong tree, babe.”
Her smile falters. “No one said you were gay.”
Now it’s my turn for the smile to wipe from my face. “I’m not gay. You’re just not the pussy I’m looking for.”
