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“Who’s on the books?” I’m nosy.
Her head cocks to the side. “Who do ya think?”
I take a sip of my coffee, lip grazing the rim. “How the fuck should I know?”
“Think long and hard about the brother who’s been turning his entire body into a suit of ink.”
“Viper.” That fucker’s on a mission. The green hair and multiple piercings ain’t enough. He’s moved onto ink as far as the eye can see. Quality ink, since Jade’s been working it. Freehand, at that. He lets her go wild. No stencil. No preconceived thoughts. Just her and the machine. She’s our very own sexy, big-titted, born again tattoo wizard.
She scratches a patch of colorful ink on her forearm. “Exactly. Viper. I’m the one who’s gotta endure his eight-hour sessions. Tonight, we’re working the neck. I’m gonna bring tears to his eyes.”
Hell yeah, she will.
I salute my mug, smiling. “Make the bitch cry. Post that shit on YouTube.”
“You know I won’t do that.”
She’s the nice one of this duo. I’m always tryin’ to corrupt her. Life is too short to stroll through it like it’s some boring, snooze fest. This lady needs to live a little. Get some dick. Any dick. Christ, I’d be over-the-moon if she used the sparkly dildo I gave her for her birthday to tickle her sleepy kitten. It’s collecting dust in her bedside drawer. I checked. ‘Cause boundaries don’t exist here. Well, mine don’t.
“It’s a shame I’m workin’. ‘Cause I would post a vid of him cryin’. Of his dick. Of his ass.” I groan, picturing that biteable rump in my mind. “Have you seen that fine ass?”
She chuckles. “I know you would. And yes, I have.”
The front door opens and slams shut without so much as a knock. There’s only one person who’d welcome themselves into this humble abode without a proper invitation—my son. Like mother, like offspring.
Jade watches him enter her remodeled kitchen before I do and nods a hello.
“Beautiful,” he greets, blowing her a sugary kiss that she catches midair and smacks to her juicy booty.
Josh snorts his approval. I roll my eyes so far back they might get stuck. You think I’m weird? These two… They’re… I dunno what they are. Friends? Besties? Which doesn’t work; she’s my BFF. I claimed her when he was still in elementary school. No take backs.
My beautiful boy dressed in torn jeans, his Sacred Sinner cut, and a tight Harley t-shirt takes Hunter’s vacated stool, then kisses my cheek as Jade sets his mug of black tar in front of him. Mr. I’m-The-Greatest has a special cup. The only mug in the house dedicated to one drinker. He bought it for Jade around Christmas when he was sixteen. It saysI’m not crazy. I just love cock… a lot.There’s a picture of a rooster beneath the plain black lettering. Now she makes him drink from it every time he’s here. It gives her some sort of sick satisfaction. My son, he’ll do just about anything to make her happy. He’s a good man. I’m a proud mama.
“You workin’ at the shop with Hunter today?” I nudge his shoulder with mine.
Josh combs fingers through his blond, windblown hair, an elbow resting on the counter. “No. Deke’s gonna be there. We’re on high alert and prepping for a run. All hands on deck.”
Guess that works. Deke’s a decent brother. Better than some.
For the next however long we lapse into comfortable banter as Josh waits for Hunter to get his butt in gear. Today he’s off school. We’re lucky the teen’s up before lunch. If it weren’t for the gear-head in him, he wouldn’t be. Jade’s got a fine kid on her hands. Just as I got mine, who’s now grown and living on the Sacred Sinner compound in a clubhouse bedroom. It ain’t nothing to write home about, but he’s a biker through and through. Doesn’t take much to make him happy. Some mothers might be put-off by the lifestyle he’s leading. Me, not so much. I’ve been a club whore since before I was legal. Bangin’ men in their leather cuts has always been my thing. It takes a special kind of woman to embrace sluthood. Just slap my ass and call me Whore. I’m ready for the ride and always prepared for the wet slide.
2
Blimp
Booted feet flat on the ground, straddlin’ my Harley outside Clove’s Bar, I take a long hit from my blunt. The smooth smoke fills my lungs as my eyes slide closed in high bliss. Enjoyin’ myself, my head tips back and I hold in the quality stuff for the count of five before blowing it to the heavens. A set of nearby footsteps refocuses my surroundings. Two regulars lift their hands in greeting as they pull open a metal door to enter the bar. I jerk my chin in acknowledgment, knowin’ not a person around will give a fuck I light up in the parking lot before I see my girl. Truth, nobody in this town cares. And if they do, they don’t say shit. The patch on my back is a deterrent for opinionated dumbfucks, unless they’re lookin’ for a fist to the face. I’m a chill guy 99% of the time. I don’t do drama. You want to drink, then drink. You wanna smoke, then smoke. You wanna fuck, then fuck. That’s on you. I’m too damn old to give a rat’s scrawny ass about your life choices. We on the same page? I sure hope so.
Not lettin’ my weed to go to waste, I snuff out the blunt and return it to my inner pocket just as my phone vibrates with an incoming text. It vibrates a second time when I retrieve it from my jeans pocket.
Shoulda guessed… It’s Viper spouting off in our group text. First, there’s a selfie of his new neck ink. It looks badass, but swollen as fuck. Jade’s got her purple gun next to his Adam's apple, doin’ what she does best. Below, is a ridiculous message I’m sure will have all the brothers salivating to see. ‘Cept me.
You gotta stop by. Jade’s tits are practically in my face. If it wouldn’t fuck up my neck, I’d motorboat those juicy melons. You’re missing out brothers.
The chorus of raunchy replies flood in. If I were in the mood to joke, I would. But I’ve got better things to do than carry on about a woman’s jugs. Especially Loretta’s best friend. I respect them both enough not to participate.
Turning my phone off, I put it away, comb my beard with my fingers to look presentable and dismount my bike with an old man grunt. Making sure I’m not showin’ off my gut, I double check my shirt placement and belt before I stroll into Clover’s to see my favorite gal.
Three steps in the door and I’ve got a biker groupie hangin’ from my neck. This chick is smashed and young enough to be my kid. Not that I discriminate against age. I’ll fuck twentysomethings. I’m no saint. But I don’t fuck drunk biker groupies outside the Sacred Sinner’s compound. That’s cause for drama I don’t have time for.
