Chapter 3
Vince came in so close his stubble scraped my ear. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow night,” he murmured.
“No can do. We have the charity run tomorrow.” And thanks to his shitty bid, I’d no longer be bringing up the rear. Pixie won Tail Gunner.
Vince looked confused.
“Where we get on our Harleys and ride? Bikers from all over have pledged money for the chance to ride with us Heelz. It’s for a good cause.”
I’d never seen a man so disinterested. Vince checked a watch probably worth more than I made in a year. “Meet me here the next night then, at 8 PM for our date.” He released me.
As I watched him walk away, I couldn't help but check out his fine ass. It got me more than just curious. Fuck. I hoped pretending to be married to Vince came with a honeymoon. I’d try for an Oscar. He disappeared into the crowd, leaving me sitting there, fucking flustered.
What the hell had I just gotten myself into? I had no idea, but I was damn well going to find out the day after tomorrow at 8PM. Shaking my head to clear it, I made my way out of the Roost. The place was still alive from the auction, but I made it to my little corner of the compound, a cozy cabin I share with one of my sisters.
My roommate, Raven, was sprawled out on the couch, a bottle of beer in hand and a smirk on her face. Her other hand was buried in a bowl of mixed popcorn. She was one tough biker chick with dark hair and a dark humor to match. The biker had to be tough. Raven owned a shop, and she often had to prove herself to the mechanics working for her. Prove who’s boss.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she teased, passing me a beer. “I wouldn’t be caught dead auctioning myself off.”
“Eat a dick, Raven,” I grumbled, dropping onto the couch beside her.
“I’d have to fight you for it, skank.”
“Couldn’t you just loan me one of yours since you’re always double fisting?” I made the motions.
"Perhaps I can sell one through an auction, just like you sold your dignity."
“It’s not a ticket to my lady pocket. It’s a date. You won’t believe the shit that just happened.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”
Taking a deep breath, I recounted the events of the night, from the strip-off with Pixie to the mysterious and indecent proposal from Vince.
Raven listened intently, her sneer never wavering. “Look at you, Demi Moore.”
“He said nothing about sex.”
“Sex and marriage go together…like a horse and carriage.”
“That’s love and marriage,” I said, thinking of a theme song. Raven and I loved to binge shows together. We joked we were becoming couch potatoes.
“But he’ll want more,” she said, as if it were a fact.
“One can only hope. Fuck, Raven. He’s a smoke show. Designer suit, nice nails, pearly whites, looks like he washes his face every night, and he smells good, too.” Around the Roost, around all these bikers, these qualities in a man were rare.
“What the hell was he doing slumming it at the Roost?” Raven put her finger to her lips. “Named Vince, has money to blow, looking for a fake fiancée. You’ve got yourself a mobster.”
“Perhaps he's in finance.”
“Is he six four, too?” She laughed.
“Just shy,” I quipped. “Dark hair and blue eyes. He looks like a fallen angel. Handsome but dangerous.”
“Definitely in the mob.”
“If he’s in the mafia, why did I lose the bet to Pix? I lost my Tail Gunner position.”
She let out a low whistle. “Damn, Psycho. Sounds like you’ve got yourself a real situation there.”
“No shit,” I muttered, digging in her popcorn for a caramel. “I have no idea what he wants, but he’s got my attention.”
Raven took a sip of her beer. “I meant losing your position.”
I waved off her worry. “Oh, that. Whatever this Vince is offering, I’ll add a bit to his donation and say I really won. Get the job back. Easy. You think Pix can do the job?”
“You gonna go through with it?”
Knotting my fingers, I shrugged. “Hell, if I know. But I’m curious. And you know how I get when I’m curious.”
Raven blew air. “Yeah, like a cat in heat on a hot tin roof with nine lives. Just don’t let this one be your last.”
My eyes shot to the ceiling. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
The day after our charity run was my day off, so I spent most of it lounging around the cabin, trying to make sense of the other night. With Raven at her nine to five, I was all alone. My mind kept drifting back to Vince and his cryptic words. What could he possibly need a fake wife for? And why the hell me?
Fuck, I had to do something, so I grabbed a wrench and went to tinker with my bike. After thoroughly covering myself in grime, I decided it was time to get ready for my date. Raven checked in at the clubhouse after work while I was in the shower. Then she was off running errands when I got out, so I rummaged through her closet, looking for something suitable to wear.
I’d burned most of my old clothes in a fit of rashness a while back, leaving me with little more than my biker gear and trashy digs. From a corporate world in a past life, Raven had a better sense of style and a fancy wardrobe to match.
I ended up with a hot black dress that highlighted all the right spots. It goes without saying, it was way classier than my usual outfit. I matched it with some killer five-inch heels and let my hair hang loose in waves around my shoulders. The look was completed with just a touch of makeup. I didn’t think high end broads wore much. But I wasn’t truly dressed until I coated on my favorite shade, painting my lips red. Looking in my cracked mirror, I had to admit, I cleaned up pretty damn well.
Just as I was finishing up, Raven walked in, carrying a bag of groceries. She took one look at me and let out a low whistle. “Damn, Psycho. You look like a Real Housewife or a Stepford wife, take your pick.”
Twirling, I snickered, “Thanks. Borrowed your dress. Hope you don’t mind.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “No worries. Just don’t ruin it. Again.”
“No promises.”