Chapter 8 - LEXIE
LEXIE
“Oh my god, girl, that was amazing!”
I stumbled as Ivy, or Poison, gave me a huge hug while I refilled the cookie platter.
Her dark hair was tipped with a bright green that stood out against her black leather cut.
Her makeup was absolutely flawless. I tried not to feel self-conscious standing next to her, knowing by now my hair was a sweaty mess and my face was flushed.
“I don’t know where Bear found you, but I hope he doesn’t lose you. That veggie burger was divine. I’d love to talk to you about doing something for my salon. I’ve been wanting to try a Sunday Brunch and Style, but—“
“Babe. The salon is closed. You’re off duty.” A tall guy with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard wrapped his arm around her waist. Based on his patch, he was their medic. I suppose that came in handy with… whatever it was they did.
“Fine.” She sighed and grabbed a cookie. “Lexie, I’ll get your info from Bear and text you next week.”
I smiled. “Sounds great.”
They turned and headed to the fire pit. I stared at the “Property of Stitch” patch on the back of her cut. I guess they did take that old lady stuff seriously.
I’d been surprised by the MC’s outdoor setup.
I figured their backyard would consist of an assortment of broken plastic chairs, a pile of beer cans, and maybe a busted volleyball net.
Instead, there was a gorgeous outdoor kitchen I would give my left pinky toe to own.
Not only did they have a Traeger pellet smoker that had my mind racing with possibilities, but the built-in gas grill was large enough it had no problem handling all the burgers and sausages Bear cooked.
And damn, did that man handle a grill with ease.
He set my catering heart all a twitter. And possibly a few other body parts.
They even had an outdoor pizza oven. Next time, I’d make sure we used it. After trying the burgers, Mav locked in the dates for the next three cookouts. With Ivy’s potential brunch, my business was officially off the ground.
With evening rolling in and the leftovers put away, all I had left was to clean up.
Armed with a trash bag, I took my final walkthrough of the backyard.
Even though trash and recycling cans were set out in several locations, people had left unfinished plates and half-empty cups lying around.
I walked through the picnic tables, filling my trash bag as I went.
Most of the club members were either inside at the bar playing pool or scattered around the fire pit. The music inside the bar was pumping, and the outdoor speakers were also blaring. A few of the brothers played corn hole while Ivy and Stitch danced by the fire pit.
When was the last time I’d hung out with family and friends? Never? Or maybe it was back at Dan’s house when I was sixteen. My heart hammered in my chest.
I hiked the trash bag over my shoulder like Santa Claus and headed around the side of the building to the dumpster.
Bear had long since disappeared. We hadn’t spoken much while grilling, but we’d fallen into a good rhythm. I thought we’d bonded. Slinging a couple hundred burgers and sausages usually did that. But then he’d run off, so who knows. Maybe it only meant something to me. Gah, how pathetic was I?
“Hey, Lexie, I can get that for you.” Baller, an extremely flirtatious brother who’d begged for my number between plates of food, rushed to my side with a bag of his own. “Or better yet, a prospect can get it. Where are those two assholes?”
I chuckled, raising my voice so he could hear over the music. “No, it’s fine. That’s what you’re paying me for. Setup, takedown, cleanup. All part of Lexie’s Limitless Catering.” I gave a short bow.
“Baller, what’s taking you so long? I thought we were going to have some fun,” Kayla’s voice whined from the back door.
Baller looked torn, glancing at his trash bag and back at Kayla.
I laughed. “If you choose a bag of trash over Kayla, I’m not sure she’ll ever recover. Give me your bag and go take care of that poor woman.”
He laughed. “You’re probably right.”
“Baller!” she screeched.
We both turned to watch as she began rubbing her breasts. He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. This is good exercise.” I grabbed his bag with my other hand and looked across the dark parking lot at the dumpster corral, rolling my eyes.
Someone had piled several full trash bags in front of the wooden enclosure.
I didn’t understand people sometimes. You made it that far, why not walk the rest of the way and sling the bags inside the dumpster?
“Right, well, thanks for dinner. Talk to you later.” He turned and jogged toward Kayla.
Good for them, I guess. More and more of the guys had disappeared.
Were they all hooking up with bunnies? Was that where Bear went?
Not that it was any of my business. As long as I got paid, it didn’t matter what, or who, Bear did.
Not that whoever he was spending his evening with would appreciate his executive Costco membership like I would.
I shook my head. It was officially time for me to get out of here.
I passed the pile of bags and threw my two into the dumpster. Never one to leave a mess, I walked to the front of the corral to grab the bags that had been left out front. As I picked up the one on top, a moan erupted from the pile.
“What the—“
I tossed the bag to the side and moved the rest out of the way to uncover one of the brothers. He was somewhat upright, having been propped up against the wall.
“Are you okay?” I bent down, placing my hand on the man’s cheek. I remembered seeing him go through the line. Checking his cut for his name, I called to him. “Tracker? You with me, buddy? I’m not sure how you ended up under a pile of trash bags, but let’s get you inside.”
Was this a prank? Get a poor guy drunk and toss him out with the trash? If so, that wasn’t very nice. Having been way too close to sleeping by a dumpster while I got on my feet, I didn’t see anything funny about this.
“Can you stand up?” I looped my arm behind his back when he gasped. For a brief moment, his eyes opened and linked with mine. Instead of drunk, he looked panicked.
“Diablo,” he whispered.
Diablo? As in the Devil? Was he hallucinating?
“Uh, Tracker?” I slapped his cheek lightly, but he was gone. Completely passed out. Well, I didn’t care what their hazing practices were. I was not going to leave this man by the dumpster. I moved my hand to the back of his head, intending to give him a little shake when I felt something wet.
Gross. What kind of nasty garbage juice had he been laying in? I pulled my hand out to examine it in the lamplight and realized the liquid was bright red.
“Did you knock yourself out on the wall?” I maneuvered his head toward the light. “Dang, you sure did. No wonder you’re seeing things. Do you hurt anywhere else?”
I don’t know why I bothered asking. Nerves, I guess. Of course he couldn’t answer. I quickly checked him over, and my heart sank into my stomach when I opened his leather cut. A bright red stain spread across the bottom of his white t-shirt.
“Hey! We need some help over here!” I shouted as loud as I could, hoping someone would hear me.
I needed to get him away from garbage and under the flood light. I moved behind him, locking my arms under his armpits like I’d learned in my advanced first-aid training. Dragging him into the light, I laid him down flat and called out again.
“Help! Somebody help!” I reached for my phone and remembered I’d left it in the kitchen since it kept falling out of the loose pockets of my shorts. Damn it.
The bottom half of his white shirt had turned red, soaked in blood. I lifted his shirt and found the problem, a two-inch gash that was steadily leaking more blood. I looked up at the trail of blood we’d created and didn’t think he could have much left. Where was the rest of the club?
“FIRE!” I’d heard if you were in trouble, people didn’t always respond to help.
They thought you were playing, or they didn’t want to get involved.
But if you said fire instead, they were more likely help because they didn’t want their stuff damaged.
“FIRE!” I screamed again before turning back to the wound.
His eyelids fluttered and he groaned.
Thank goodness. “Tracker? It’s okay. Help is on the way. FIRE!” At least, I hoped it was.
“Diablo,” he mumbled. “Diablo here.”
Because of my babysitting and my job at the senior home, I’d taken Stop the Bleed training in one form or another every year since I was fourteen.
Tracker was going to bleed out if I didn’t act quickly.
And since there wasn’t a trauma kit anywhere around…
I shrugged and pulled off my tank top. Gauze would have obviously been a better choice, but I was working with what I had.
Of course I would be wearing my lucky Tinkerbelle tank top today.
I’d worn her during all of my culinary exams, my interview at the senior home, and then today when I’d landed my first catering job.
Hopefully, she was about to save Tracker’s life.
I shoved the corner of my tank into the gash, packing the wound like I’d been taught.
When I couldn’t fit anymore inside, I bunched the rest of the tank on top of the wound and pressed down with my hands.
I raised my elbow to brush the hair from my face and screamed again “Fire!” I screamed until I was hoarse and tears streamed down my face. “Fire!”
I finally heard male voices and the pounding of boots. I continued to hold pressure on Tracker’s wound, terrified to move in case he bled out.
“It’s okay, Lexie. Stitch can take it from here.” Strong arms wrapped around me, but I fought them.
“No, I can’t let go. I have to apply pressure until the paramedics arrive.”
“Fuck,” the familiar voice swore.
“Lexie, look at me.” Stitch’s face was suddenly right in front of mine. “You did great, and now I’m here, and I’ve got this until the ambulance comes. Your arms are probably tired, right? After all that work you did today? Let me take over. I’ve done nothing but lie around and eat all evening.”
I blinked slowly, taking in my surroundings and realizing the brothers were there. I was just the caterer. Stitch’s hands covered mine, and I slowly pulled back. The warm arms surrounding me pulled me up, forcing me to stand before flipping me into his embrace.
“You did good, pixie.” Bear kissed the top of my head while stroking my ponytail.
“Real good.” He squeezed me again, his tight embrace grounding me to the present.
Then he bent down and whispered in my ear, “But I’m going to need to put a shirt on you before Stitch is stuck treating a few more injuries. ”