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Cuckoo rolled his bike to a stop and cut off the engine. He turned my way, wearing a bright green dragon costume with shiny gold, pink, and purple scales. The top stretched over his head as the mouth opened, revealing pointed white teeth made from felt.
For fuck’s sake.
He looked ridiculous. Scales poked out all the way down his back. The ones beneath his cut puffed out the leather and made him look like a deformed, hunchback dragon.
I didn’t bother asking him why he chose this costume. Cuckoo always had a reason, and I didn’t want the headache when he gave the explanation.
“What are you, Puff the Magic Dragon?” I asked, shaking my head. Then I spotted the tail. “You rode your fucking bike with that tail?”
Cuckoo winked. “You bet I did. All I had to do was fold it a bit and sit on it. Didn’t get stuck in the tires either. So Carrion can fuck right off.”
“You know he told you that so you wouldn’t crash, right?”
Carrion saw things. His crow had visions, and while that freaked us out more than a few times, he never got shit wrong.
The gift manifested after Carrion died. Falcon, the club’s healer, brought him back, but he wasn’t the same afterward. There was darkness inside him, and he often stuck to the shadows like they had become home.
For some reason, Cuckoo liked to fuck with him. Fucking idiotic if you asked me. Carrion could sometimes see the future, which meant he had the ability to play a reaper. Not that he ever decided anyone else’s fate. He handed over information and walked away, disappearing from the chaos he always left behind.
Cuckoo sucked on his teeth and then frowned. “Fuck. He tricked me.”
“Or he saved you,” I pointed out.
“I’m gonna kick his ass.”
“You wanted to crash?” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Did you bring the packages?”
“Yeah, they’re in my saddlebags.”
I noticed he didn’t answer me about wanting to crash his bike.Crazy fucker.
Cuckoo handed over the packages, following me inside as his tail swished behind him.
“Hey, Cuckoo,” Gail greeted as he entered. She blinked.
Yeah, babe. He’s wearing a dragon costume.
“Hey, Gail. What’re you makin’?”
She fed him every time he showed up.
“Nothing special. Spaghetti and meatballs. All homemade, though. Garlic bread and salad, too. You want some?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” He sat at the counter, flopping onto a stool as he pushed the dragon’s head backward, folding a few of the scales that protruded down his back. “I’m starving.”
“You should eat before you ride for so long.”
The trip was a little under three and a half hours. Cuckoo could do that without any problem, but he didn’t tell Gail. Hell, that was hardly any time at all in the saddle for any of us. Bikers took long rides on the regular. Our club organized runs even when we didn’t have shit to take care of. It kept us sharp.
“And not be hungry for your cookin’? Hell no.”
She gave him a sweet smile for the compliment.
I walked to the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers, sliding one across the countertop. Cuckoo picked it up and popped the top, guzzling half the bottle before he belched.
I thumped the back of his head. “Watch your fuckin’ manners, asshole.”
He grinned. “You’re so sensitive, honey.”
