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Fuck my life. Normally I’d say she wasn’t my problem, but she was most definitely my problem. As vice president of this club, and a woman, I had to look out for the women here. Me. Not Rocket or any of the other men. Me. More because I was a woman in a man’s domain than because of my position in the club.
As I left Gina with a wave and climbed on my own bike, I had to wonder if I’d bitten off more than I could chew. A nurturer I was not. I knew I’d learn to become one if I had to, though. Because of Scarlet and all she’d gone through. She was my best friend and she’d suffered horribly. Same as this girl. I’d figure it out for Scarlet and Gina. And just maybe along the way, I’d truly believe I was worthy to be VP to Grim Road.
Chapter Four
Lemon
It was truly gratifying watching man after man take a turn on that fucking pink Harley. Their disgruntled but resigned expressions did my heart good. I’d caught them more than once standing around it with a can or three of spray paint, each daring the other to start on it. Then they’d see me leaning against the door to the garage and scatter. Just like naughty schoolboys caught smoking in the boys’ room. (Love the song, by the way. Bit old, but… classic.)
Today, they just washed it down, parked it outside -- probably hoping someone would steal it -- and shuffled away. I grinned. Honestly, pink wasn’t my thing, but the bike had grown on me. Who ever heard of a pink Harley? I heard the guys talk. Apparently the words “pink” and “Harley” should never have been uttered in the same sentence. Who knew? Just made me embrace the monstrosity all the more.
On impulse, I climbed on and started it up. I loved the bike Rocket had gotten for me. Wylde had taught me how to ride while I was at the Iron Tzars, but Rocket had actually sprung for a bike of my own. He said I was his woman and I would ride with him, but every MC vice president needed their own bike. Yeah. That had gotten him a blowjob and me railed from behind by a man who acted like he hadn’t gotten any pussy in a fucking year. While the pink Harley was still Falcon’s even if he didn’t want to claim it, I was betting he’d take my bike in trade for it. If for no other reason than to not have to fuck with getting it painted again. Not that I’d ever get rid of my bike. Rocket had given it to me, and it meant the world to me.
Fuck it. I could probably just get Rocket to buy it off Falcon. I was betting that -- since it was already damaged goods because it was pink -- once I planted the idea in Falcon’s mind, he would probably sell it if Rocket priced it right. It’d be the easy way out. Just like I’d wanted him to. In a way, I kind of felt sorry for the guy. This was the second time I’d basically trashed his bike. He had to be getting a complex.
I revved it a couple times before taking off toward the gate. I didn’t even slow as I approached. I’d seen Rocket do this plenty of times and always thought it was cool as fuck. Head up, hair blowing in the breeze behind me, I approached the guarded exit like a boss. They’d either open the fucking gate for me or I’d bust through it. And quite possibly hurt myself, but I’d take great satisfaction watching Rocket beat those motherfuckers to a bloody pulp because I got hurt.
Unfortunately, they were ready for me and opened the gate. I halfway expected them to try to make me stop because Rocket wasn’t with me, but they didn’t. I sighed. Yeah, I was a little disappointed there wasn’t going to be lovely chaos, but the upside was I was riding through a cleverly cut path through the reserve that blended perfectly with the landscape while still providing stable, even ground for the guys to ride off the property.
Once I was back on the main road leading toward Palm Beach, I opened the bike up and embraced the power as I rode off into the proverbial sunset. Except it was high noon. And I always thought that was a stupid saying anyway. Yeah, I was aware everyone around me thought I was crazy and maybe I was. But life was too short to live a boring life always repressing your true nature. I didn’t have a death wish, nor was I sick from some debilitating, flesh-eating bubonic clap. But I’d seen death. I’d fought death.
I’d borne witness when Iron Tzars and Grim Road had literally sawed a man into tiny pieces and kept him alive so he could watch it all happening. I’d been there to witness his screams and look into Hammer’s eyes as he’d been made to watch someone cut out his balls and saw off his dick. It made me ill even as it gave me great joy to watch Hammer suffer. I especially loved watching the anticipation as he saw yet another member of either Iron Tzars or Grim Road wave the knife in front of his face, taunting him with the possibility of what they were going to carve out from his body next.
I headed to Palm Springs. It was only a ten-minute drive and I loved the views. It was safe territory because of a sister club of Bones MC in Somerset, Kentucky. Salvation’s Bane MC made their home in Palm Beach, so if I got in trouble, there was someone to have my back.
Then a thought occurred to me. I’d yet to meet with anyone from Salvation’s Bane other than when Rocket was with me. There were a couple women I wanted to touch base with. Neither were officers or even members, but the rumor was the Bane president, Thorn, was considering giving them the distinction of being patched members. I wanted to meet with the old ladies of Bane, but that seemed too much like me coming to them as Rocket’s property more than the vice president of another club. I wanted to be there as VP. If I met with one of the prospective female members of Bane who wasn’t an old lady, it would assert my position in Grim as more than just Rocket’s old lady.
I’d heard about one of the women. What was her name? Venus? Yeah. That sounded right. Though I’d visited the Salvation’s Bane compound with Rocket and the guys a couple of times, I’d yet to meet the woman. I’d heard she was pretty awesome. Apparently she dressed in hot pink, from her leather outfit to her hair and razor-sharp nails, to pink contacts. And…
She had a pink Harley.
I hoped she was as cool as I’d heard. It’d be lame if she wasn’t. While pink wasn’t generally my thing, I had to admit the thought of those freaky eyes staring straight into the heart of some overly aggressive club whore made me more than a little wet. Not for Venus. To each his own, but I didn’t swing that way. But giving a club whore the stink eye with pink eyes staring back at the bitch would have to be just all kinds of fucking creepy. The thought of fucking with those bitches got me all kinds of horny. Mainly because Rocket loved it when I got mean. Which got me laid. It was a vicious cycle.
Once inside Palm Beach, I thought I might head over to Tito’s Diner. Tito, Elena, and Marge were awesome, and Marge made the best milkshakes I’d ever had. I could seriously gain fifty pounds if I went there on the regular.
I pulled into the diner parking lot and parked in the front. It was just after noon and the place was hopping. I smiled. Of all the fancy places to eat in Palm Springs, anyone who knew the area came here to this little diner. But no matter how busy, Elena and Tito always had fast, friendly service. One rarely had to wait longer than a couple minutes for a table. How they managed it I had no idea.
When I stepped in, the bells on the door gave a little jingle. Tito turned from the griddle where he was flipping burgers, among other yummy-smelling things.
“Lemon! You haven’t been around in a few days.” He gave me a bright smile like we were old friends, when I’d only met the guy a few weeks before.
Elena, Tito’s wife, poked her head out from the back. “Did you say Lemon’s here?” Her gaze automatically went to the door. When she spotted me, her face split into a wide grin. “Mi niña bonita! You should come by more often.” She waved in my direction. “Marge, her meal is en la casa.”
Marge gave me a wide grin as she smacked her gum. “That’ll teach ya to not come ‘round more often.” The three of them laughed. The place was packed, but Marge managed to find me a place at the bar where she knew I liked to sit. I loved watching Tito sling hash. The man had seriously flipped an egg a few times.
I scowled at Elena. “I can pay my own way, Mama E.”
She shook her finger at me. “None of that, young lady. Or you’ll find yourself never paying for anything here.”
“Elena! What the fu -- err… fudge?”
She chuckled. “That’s my girl. You’re learning manners.”
“Well, don’t tell anybody. The guys all think I’m a heathen.”
“Sweet girl, those men adore you. Especially yours. Rocket believes you hung the moon. And for him, you do.”
I grinned. “Yeah. He does. Ain’t it awesome?”
