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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
*Brodi “Bro” - Tail Gunner*
Lace and Zane don’t stay in there for long. Not nearly as long as the rest of us would have kept her in there. A song… maybe two.
As soon as they come out, though, Chaz rushes over. With a smug grin plastered on, he leans against the side of the DJ booth, reaches over me to tap, tap, tap on the mic, then watches as everyone gives us their attention.
Snatching the mic away from Chaz, I begin. “Bay!” The mic squeals, and a collective groan follows. However, Baylor is nowhere to be seen. Not at first, at least. A few seconds later, he comes out of the private dance area, Vee stumbling a short distance behind him.
Bay claps Zane on the shoulder en route to sit on the edge of the stage.
Lucky fuckers. Or maybe not. Watching whatever Lace and Zane did in there might have been a worse sort of torture than simply imagining it. Imagining it was bad enough.
Zane and Lace watch with keen gazes as Baylor and Vincent grab a seat. Zane blanches a whitish-green comparable to how sickly he looked when he and Kio got back from their assignment.
Lace shakes her head, amused, but her eyes also flare with that intoxicating heat at the realization that Vee and Bay were watching.
“You called?” Bay hollers.
I lower the music and bring my mouth close to the mic. “Yep, do that thing you do. Chaz and I have an important announcement to make and want to be sure everyone is accounted for.”
There are a whopping nine of us in attendance. We can all count. But screwing with a club member always makes the evening just that much more enjoyable. Baylor was the mark this time. He narrows a glare at me, flicks his gaze around the room, and starts counting backward obnoxiously loud until reaching me.
“Perfect.” My eyes move to the dark corner, because this dramatic revelation is mostly for Coty. We could simply sit Lace down and tell her.
A bright light flares over his face as he stares down at a cell phone screen. I don’t bother to call him out, knowing he is paying attention even if it appears otherwise. Plus, watching his expression change from focused to pissed off will be worth it.
“Lace? Come here.”
That gets his interest right away. His eyes flick up from the screen, creating deep, hooded shadows above them. Lace saunters over to the DJ booth. When she snuggles up to Chaz, he immediately puts his arm around her and gives her a kiss on the temple.
Without further ado and no pussyfooting around, I lay everything bare: “I am incredibly excited to announce the newest Miss Gulf Coast contestant for the fall Gulf Coast Bike Rally.” I want to see her expression, but I am living for Coty’s reaction right now. The hand that was gripping the cell phone tightens, and his whole body practically vibrates.
Only then do I turn my attention to Lace who is looking up at me wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Before she can say anything, I finish explaining. “Chaz and I were talking to Becca about the outfits for our booth, and we decided to take it upon ourselves to fill out an application for Lace. Figured it would be nice to give her something to do for the rally outside of the club. Plus, we all know our girl will fucking win.”
I dare another quick glance at Coty, lips quirking minutely. He tilts his head to the side, and his rigidness loosens. Yeah, we like fucking with him, and having her on a stage being judged as well as everything else that goes along with the responsibilities of a pageant participant will certainly accomplish that. But we also back our VP. We are on his team. In his club. And whether the move is selfish or selfless, safe to say more than one of us wants to see her dig out of the grave this saloon lifestyle buried her in. Now even more so since Kal tightened her cuffs.
Coty lays the phone on his lap and leans back more comfortably — appreciatively.
Silence stifles the room for a few seconds, but then the entire crew, Coty included, cheer and catcall. I look down again and grin at Lace. She rolls her eyes at me, but a small smile ticks up on her mouth, and a light dusting of pink covers her cheeks.
