Chapter 14
Indigo
I’d never been to a party before, let alone a patch party.
I tried to subtly offer my help in planning Prospect/Turner/Rook’s patch party to mark his official membership with the LCMC, but Bear (politely) shot me down.
I guess he wanted to be a diva and plan the entire thing himself, seeing as he was the Crow who sponsored Turner’s application to join the club.
It was his loss, though. I had some truly inspired balloon arch ideas, not to mention the sparklers.
Lennon had towed me upstairs while the guys did their mystical bonding ceremony or whatever turned someone from a prospect into a true Crow.
She did my makeup for me and thanks to my thrift shopping and her frequent shopping issues, I now had a slightly expanded wardrobe to choose from.
I slipped an acid-washed black Def Leppard T-shirt I’d found at Goodwill over my new deep purple bra.
I’d cut the neck of the shirt, causing it to slip off my left shoulder.
Lennon had talked me into wearing a pleated skirt, the plaid pattern containing the same shade of purple as my bra.
I fidgeted awkwardly with it, trying to tug it down.
“Leave it,” Lennon said with a playful scowl as she finished applying her makeup and zipped up a purse-sized pouch of cosmetics. “You look hot as hell. Stop fidgeting.”
“It’s just so…” I bit my bottom lip, stained candy-apple red, and swished my hips, making my pleated skirt swirl a bit around my thighs. “Breezy,” I finished lamely. Lennon tied my shirt into a knot at my waist, tightening it so my growing curves were a bit more defined.
“You said you wanted to try a few new things, but if you want to change, we can figure something out.” Lennon slipped out of her leggings and slid on a frayed pair of denim short shorts.
She threaded a belt with a big brassy buckle into the loops on her shorts and looked over her shoulder. “I can lend you a dress if you want?”
“No,” I sighed, swishing my skirt one more time.
I slipped my sock-clad feet into my ass-stomper boots, ignoring Lennon’s annoyed tongue click.
My bestie was always trying to get me into new (and uncomfortable-looking) footwear, but I always gravitated back to my boots.
I’d found them in a box someone left in a shelter’s donation bin about six months after I left the basement.
They weren’t the most comfortable shoes to wear sometimes, but they were there for me when I needed them, and I couldn’t bear throwing them away or finding a new favorite pair.
By the time I was done lacing my boots and slouching my socks down, Lennon had finished getting dressed.
She wore a rusty-red leather vest that made her boobs look amazing and emphasized the wide flare of her hips.
I threw my hair up into an artfully sloppy bun on the top of my head, while Lennon French braided her long, curly mane into two pigtails.
A few curls were left loose, giving her a wild, untamed charm.
Retro-looking brown cowgirl boots completed her outfit, causing me to mockingly click my tongue at her lack of heels.
She stuck her tongue out at me. “At least mine are cute.”
“I’m telling Sheila you said that!” I laughed, flipping my best friend the middle finger.
“No! I take it back.” Lennon giggled. “I don’t want to lose shotgun privileges. Riding in the back with Cricket is so annoying!”
“Nah, Sheila will forgive you,” I say with a smirk. “That’s why she’s my best bitch. You’re pretty awesome too, though.”
Music thumped through the speakers set up in the clubhouse, and the room was packed with Crows, ole ladies, a few club girls, family members, and select townie friends.
Lennon pointed out Archer, a friend of the Crows who ran a tattoo parlor in Sagebrush.
He had set up a folding table in a corner of the clubhouse and was currently tattooing the newest Crow to literally mark the occasion.
Turner waved at me as we entered the room while Archer was busy inking his left bicep.
I couldn’t wait to see what he ended up getting!
Earlier in the day, Turner had taken off his plain cut and had been presented with a new one.
The LCMC colors, a crow in flight over the handlebars of a motorcycle with the words “Los Cuervos Motorcycle Club,” was embroidered on the back of the cut.
On the front, a patch with “LCMC” had been sewn on the upper right-hand side, with the name “Rook” embroidered in stylized letters below it.
Turner—I mean Rook—wore his new cut with obvious pride and spent the beginning part of the night getting slapped on the back in congratulations.
Rook was now an official Crow, and the party was in full swing.
Leather-clad bikers were taking shots—some in honor of their new brother, and others in memory of the one they’d recently lost. Someone had placed a picture of Ace on the far side of the bar, with a shot and a small candle placed next to it.
It was nice to think of Ace being here to welcome a new brother, even if it was only in spirit.
I took a shot of whiskey from Lennon’s offered hand, and we both raised our glasses in Ace’s direction and then in Rook’s before throwing them back.
Some of the older Crows had their ole ladies with them, and I waved to Lorna from across the clubhouse.
She was talking with Blaze’s wife, Susanne, while Duke, Blaze, Bear, and Knuckles played a game of pool.
She and Susanne waved back, and I continued my scan of the room.
Erica and Winnie, the club girls, had just been allowed access to the clubhouse again.
Mindy and Amber were MIA since the night Pyro turned on his club, and I couldn’t say they were particularly missed on my part.
Rose and Knuckles’s kids couldn’t make the trip to visit so soon after the funeral, but some of the local Crow family members showed up to hang out and have a good time.
There were a few men and women from town who must be friends with one Crow or another to be allowed in.
Duke still had someone guarding the gate, and all guests had to be vetted in order to attend this particular party.
The threat of the Iron Raiders wasn’t going to stop them from celebrating their new brother, come what may.
I wasn’t used to the thick press of people in the clubhouse.
People danced over by the jukebox, while others played pool.
A few couples were making out on the couches, and I really hoped they came up for air soon.
I wanted to tell them that I watched nature documentaries and History Channel conspiracy theory shows on those couches, and I’d super appreciate it if they could keep their fluids to themselves…
but I wasn’t sure if I had the right. They weren’t my couches, after all, and I wasn’t a Crow.
Priest said the compound was my home now, but I wasn’t sure how long they’d let me freeload here.
I pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to spoil my own time.
This was my first party! I wanted to enjoy it.
Cricket was talking to Ratched animatedly not too far from the bar, so I pulled Lennon along to say hello.
Cricket wrapped his arm around my shoulders and tugged me into his side. I smiled and hugged my conscience.
“You’re looking lovely tonight, ladies,” Cricket said charmingly.
Some guy from Sagebrush walked up and asked Lennon to dance, and she shocked the hell out of me by accepting.
Usually, she brushed off any guy who tried to chat her up when we went out.
I looked around for Sticks, but I didn’t see him.
I guess Lennon wanted to get in a few dances before her dad came in and scared away any guy who looked at her for too long.
She always seemed exasperated by Sticks’s and Bones’s protectiveness, but I think she secretly enjoyed it.
Lennon always wore a small, self-satisfied smile whenever Bones puffed up and stepped between her and some rando.
They began dancing along to “Living Dead Girl” by Rob Zombie while Bones pretended not to watch them from his seat on the couch.
He had some girl from town in his lap, her lips plastered to his neck, but he couldn’t seem less interested in her if he tried.
I left Cricket and Ratched and took a lap around the clubhouse.
Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
I spied Bard and Thor taking shots at the bar, which was manned by Shiloh, one of the bartenders I worked with at Crow’s Landing.
I waved to her, and she sent a quick wave my way between serving beers and shots of whiskey.
I’d made an almost complete circle around the clubhouse when I noticed the Crow I’d been subconsciously looking for.
I spied Priest across the room, now standing next to where Bones sat on the couch.
Bones was still ignoring the girl in his lap as he spoke to his friend, and Priest nodded his head as he sipped from his glass of scotch, eyes roaming over the room.
Our gazes collided, and an exhilarating shiver rushed through me at the heat in his expression.
We both took a moment to admire each other from across the room, my eyes sliding from his lips, which I knew were pillow soft, and catching on his muscled forearms where his shirtsleeves were shoved up to his elbows.
How did he manage to make faded Henleys and oil-stained blue jeans look so sexy?
I felt like he should be made to pay reparations to woman-kind as a whole for the sheer audacity of looking effortlessly drool-worthy while the rest of us mere mortals struggled with attempting to look semi-attractive after an hour in the hair and makeup chair. It wasn’t fair!