2. Ryder
2
RYDER
5 years later…
I slam the shot glass down and grin. Nobody’s ever beaten me in a drinking game. I can hold my liquor. Call it a gift, one that I use as often as possible.
“Should’ve known with that patch on your jacket,” says the asshole who just lost, shoving the bills toward me as I laugh.
I can’t hold back my grin.“I tried to warn you.”
“You gotta watch the pretty ones,” Bronco, previously known as Torin, laughs. “They’ll swindle you before you can even blink.”
Asshole mutters something incoherent, stumbling away as I pocket the cash.
“Tell me again why we drink here?” I mutter.
Bronco side eyes me. The Whiskey Straight is owned by Logan, my club brother’s Brew and Haze’s older brother, he isn’t part of the NOLA Rebels like the rest of us, but he’s happy to have us frequent the bar and keep the trash out from time to time.
“Because the booze is cheap.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.”
A couple of wolf whistles ring out as a couple of girls enter the pub. I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a shit week, and prospecting for the NOLA Rebels may have been the very thing to save me, but some days there just isn’t enough time in the fucking day to get shit done. “We should split.”
Bronco shakes his head. “Party’s just getting started, plus there’s that new club I’ve got tickets for. They expire this weekend.”
“Fuck that.”
He grips my shoulder. The two of us have been friends for a lifetime, and when Bronco introduced me to Cash, the club Prez, I knew I wanted in. The club has given me the thing I always wanted: a family. I may be shit kicking, but I know that one day I’ll earn my place, and then I’ll be around the meeting table with a patch to my name.
Until that day, I’ve gotta keep my head above water.
“Come on, man, don’t be a stick in the mud.”
“I’m not. I’ve worked eighty hours this week. I’m fucked.”
“Cry baby.” Bronco taps his bottom lip with his finger, making baby noises. “It’s not even eleven, bud, the night is still young, and there’s gonna be a shit ton of pretty girls there.”
“Fine. Let’s get goin’. Sooner we get there, sooner you can find a chick, then I can split.”
“You’re forgettin’ you’re my wingman. Maybe gettin’ some pussy might put you in a better mood.”
As a prospect, you don’t get access to any of the sweetbutts; the chicks that hang around at the club for booze, free grub and sex. In fact, they’re completely off limits. Not that I’ve ever really been interested in sweetbutts anyway. Call me old fashioned, but I kinda cringe at the idea of being with a woman all my club brothers have been with before me. Not that I have any room to be fussy. Still. The brother’s hate it because I never grew out of this baby face, apparently, and women do seem to flock to me. I’ve had more than one beating over the years because I stole some chick without realizing she wasn’t mine to steal. Not exactly my fault.
“Doubt it,” I grumble.
“You’re no fun.”
“So I’ve been told. Let’s get goin’.”
We give Logan a chin lift as we head out. Our sleds are parked out front. I’m not so sure that going into a club with our cuts on is a good idea, but when we arrive downtown, it’s clear we will need to remove them. No point getting into a fight unnecessarily, plus the bouncers on the door won’t let us in dressed like this.
Cash will have a fucking field day if he finds out.
The only good about this club is the free drinks, and I don’t want to think about how Bronco even acquired these tickets. I’m better off not knowing.
It’s loud. Dark, but with flashing lights that blind you every few seconds, and hot bodies grinding against one another. There are fucking stripper poles, but they’re perched higher off the ground, with cages. People are fucking dancing in cages… I guess this club could be looking up after all.
“What the fuck is this place?” I holler to Bronco.
“It’s called The Jungle.”
Of course it is. Normally, I’m not such a pill, but this week took its toll, and I have to be up early tomorrow because as a prospect for the NOLA Rebels MC, you never have days off. If Cash is feeling kind, which isn’t all that often, he’ll give me a day off, but with how busy things have been lately, that isn’t gonna happen any time soon. At least on Sundays I can take my sweet time with what I’m doing, because nobody is ever around or up early enough to check on what I’m up to.
Bronco was right about one thing; there are chicks everywhere. Not that I have the money to be buying my own drinks, let alone anyone else’s, and let’s face it, chicks don’t expect to buy their own. This whole thing was a bad idea.
We wind up at the bar, and Bronco flashes the free drinks tickets at the bartender. He failed to mention that the drinks on offer were ridiculous looking cocktails. The bartender presents me with a tall glass filled with blue liquid, a slice of pineapple stuck on the rim, and a pink umbrella. I stare at it, then pinch the bridge of my nose. Am I expected to drink this shit?
I turn to Bronco with a questioning look. “You fuckin’ owe me for this.”
He just grins. “I said free drinks, didn’t I?”
“What is this shit?”
“Who the fuck knows, it’s wet. Shut up and drink it.”
“Fucker.”
I glance around the busy floor. The sea of people in every direction makes it impossible to move or take in anything. The music blares, rattling my brain around in my head. I swear I’m getting old before my time.
There’s a group of girls close by taking up an entire booth. One of the chicks with her back to me is wearing angel wings, her long golden hair hanging down her back in waves.
Bronco looks over too as one of the girls starts dancing on the table. Of course, nobody stops her. The other chicks around the table holler and laugh, throwing dollar bills at her. They’re just young, having fun, but they’re also attracting attention. When a group of guys move closer, clearly drunk from their swaying around, it soon looks as if the attention from them isn’t wanted. The girls make faces and one of them shakes her head, turning her back on one of the frat guys.
Where the fuck are the bouncers? It’s typical in big, obnoxious places like this that all the security is out front where the lines are, but nobody seems to be monitoring what’s going on inside.
One of the dudes tries to pull the girl off the table, but she stumbles and almost falls. Two of her friends try to shoo him away, but he and three of his buddies lurk, trying to talk to the others around the table, even though it’s clear they don’t want them there.
Here I was thinking we’d be having a couple of drinks, maybe find a chick to make me forget about all the shit I’ve got going on, and keep my ass outta jail. The Jungle has other plans.
“Why do we always show up when trouble’s brewin’?” I complain.
Bronco frowns. “Think we should step in?”
I glance at the dudes. They’re college looking frat boys, and we could take them. It might be a sure-fire way to get kicked out and get the fuck outta here, so maybe it’s not such a bad idea.
“That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard you come up with all night.” I crack my knuckles. I’m a brawler by nature, but only when provoked.
Thanks to my deadbeat stepdad, I learned how to fight early on. Unfortunately, I only used my fists on him when I’d had enough of his shit, and I was bigger than him by then. Damn asshole nearly knocked my head clean off my shoulders. I was just a kid, but he didn’t give a fuck. My stepbrother didn’t fare much better, but he always blamed me for his dad’s drunken rages. It had nothing to do with the fact the man was a raging alcoholic when my mom met him.
I rip the pineapple and the umbrella from my drink, ditch the straw, and down the god-awful concoction. A shot would be better, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Bronco’s right by my side as we approach. “I think the ladies are sayin’ no, asswipe.” I tap one of the dudes on the shoulder. I’m broader than him, and taller, so there’s that.
He turns around, sizes me and Bronco up and waves his hands. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just talking to the ladies here.”
“Looks like they don’t want your attention. Beat it.”
“Fuck you!” His friend smirks, coming to stand next to him.
“You don’t want any trouble?” I shove his asshole friend in the chest. “Get your buddy off the fuckin’ table. Only gonna say it once.”
I glance up, and asshole number one is still groping the girl while she tries to push him off. Her friends are all frantic as the other guys, who don’t see us approaching, standing there laughing.
“Allow me.” Bronco moves fast, grabbing the dude by the ankle, yanking him so he crashes onto the table. Drinks ultimately fly everywhere and everyone shrieks.
Fucking great. A brawl it is. He’s a pussy, rolling around holding his head with a piece of glass stuck in his cheek. That’s gotta hurt like a bitch, but still. Man up.
I roll my eyes, turn to the smartass and punch him in the face. Bronco takes out the other guy who turns and lunges toward us — he goes down fast. When the fourth frat boy sees his friends in a heap on the floor, he turns and runs in the other direction. So much for loyalty.
The girls look shaken up; some of them give us grateful but wary glances.
“Sorry about that.” I lean down and wipe my hand on one of the loser's jackets. Looks like I busted his nose. “Some assholes don’t know when to quit.”
“Oh, my God!” The girl on the table, who Bronco is now helping to the floor, cries. “That was insane. These guys just wouldn’t stop harassing us.”
“Might wanna rethink the tabletop dance.” Bronco smirks. “Some dudes take that as an invitation to do whatever they want.”
She gives him a cute smile, clearly grateful and my eyes flick to the other girls. One of them, the girl with the angel wings, is staring at me. I meet her gaze, and for a second I don’t register. For a moment more, she seems familiar… I narrow my eyes, cocking my head to the side…
“Holy shit, Ryder?” It sounds like Crystal, but it sure as fuck doesn’t look like Crystal.
All the memories come flooding back, including that night on the couch.
“Crys?”
A big, wide smile erupts on her gorgeous face. Well, I’ll be damned.
“Ryder!” She flings herself into my arms, and I’m enveloped with a sweet scent, like marshmallows, that I remember like it was yesterday. “OMG, how are you? What the hell are you doing here?”
I pull back, searching her face for the girl I used to know. She’s been replaced by a woman. Her bright, blue eyes are framed with perfect brows and full lips. I dip my gaze, taking her in. She’s wearing a shorter-than-fuck mini skirt and a tank that leaves nothing to the imagination, her belly ring on full display. She also has a full sleeve of tattoos, and if she isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen then I’ll eat my hat. Holy shit. She really did grow up.
“I’m doin’ alright. Drinkin’ cocktails with fruit in ’em because apparently this is the club to be seen in.” I grin. “What are you doin’ here?”
“It’s my birthday.” She has to lean in closer to me because of the music, and in doing that I get a view of her impressive rack. Not that I mean to look — it’s right there in front of my face.
The guys start to rouse, and I shove one of them with my foot. He and his buddies quickly scamper away. I glance in their direction and thankful no security are coming our way. My ass won’t be in jail tonight.
Her birthday, huh? I glance at the button on her tank strap that reads 21 Today!
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m partying with my friends.”
“I can see that,” I murmur, then add, “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” She shakes her head. “I can't believe it’s you, after all these years. You look good.”
I open my mouth to say something when Bronco decides to butt in.
“Hey, stranger.” Bronco, his arm slung around her friend's shoulders, grins at her. “Long time no see.”
“Torin? Holy shit!”
She pulls him into a hug as he laughs. “I go by Bronco now.”
“How come?”
“We’re with the NOLA Rebels MC, though you know that already.”
The fact I didn’t keep in contact with her and Bronco did, is a testament to how much I meant it when I said she had to make a better life for herself than staying in Greenlark and getting mixed up with somebody like me. I can’t help but wonder what her strict parents think of that tattoo, though. A lot, I’ll bet.
“I keep tabs on the two of you,” Crystal muses.
She’s different. Confident. She’s always had spirit, but not like this. I can see it in her eyes. The way she holds herself, the way she speaks with confidence, her head held high and a cheeky grin on her face. She knows she can do no wrong. The little brat.
“It’s been a long time,” I murmur. Too long.
I still keep in contact with Luca, but he’s a big hotshot law student who got offered a placement in California. I hear from him from time to time, but our circles don’t exactly mix these days. Still, he never forgot his roots.
He talks about Crystal sometimes in passing, and Casey’s still in high school but thinking about becoming a nurse or an EMT. I think Luca drops those comments just to let me know that they’re both doing okay. After that night at their parents’ house, I called Luca to tell him what happened, explaining everything. He believed me. He was mad at his father for punching me, but in some respects, now that I'm older, I can see how it looked. If I had a teenager daughter, I probably would have done the same thing.
“A very long time,” she says. “Stay and have a drink with us.”
I motion to the table. “Looks like we might have to relocate.”
“Fine by me,” Crystal singsongs. She turns to motion to the others that they’re moving tables. With those wings on her back, and that golden hair cascading around her face, she really does look like a fucking angel.
“We don’t wanna ruin the party,” I interject. “Probably best if we?—”
She puts her hands on her hips. “It’s my birthday and you won’t even stay and have one drink with me?”
Looking like that? No fucking way. I haven’t forgotten about that night, but maybe she has?
“One drink.” I look over my shoulder at Bronco, who’s now got the girl he rescued all over him. “Then I’m gonna split.”
She pouts. “Fine, don’t be happy to see me.”
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. I forgot about the pout. “Still know how to get me with that sulk.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the mischievous glint in her eyes tells me otherwise.
So we get caught up. Which isn’t something I envisioned doing when I started my night having a quiet beer with one of my best friends at Logan’s bar.
“So you’re going to college in Arizona?” I ask when we find another table.
She nods approvingly. “Have been checking up on me?”
“Your brother mentions you sometimes; said you were studyin’ childcare.” Why I say that, I don’t know, because it makes me sound like an asshole. “I never saw you as a teacher.”
“Really? What did you see me as?”
I shrug. “I thought you hated kids.”
She snorts. “I don't hate kids. There was a time where I may have been annoyed that I had a little sister, but that passed pretty quickly.”
“What do you plan on teaching?”
“Kindergarten, but we’ll see.”
I’m proud of her. I’ll bet her parents are, too. A lawyer, a teacher and an EMT in one family.
I swallow the lump in my throat when I think about all the stuff I didn’t do. Sure, I did my apprenticeship as a mechanic; heck, Cash even helped me enroll in trade school to gain more technical experience. Eventually, I may even be able to pursue a degree once I’m certified. I’ll be the only member of my family to have any kind of college education, but that’s a long way off.
“Long as you’re happy.”
She nods. “I am. I’m making friends in Arizona. It’s different, but a world away from my parents.” I don’t miss the roll of her eyes.
“How are they?”
She gives me a pointed look. “Do you really care?”
“Not really, but your dad has one hell of a swing.”
Is it just me, or do her cheeks flush? “Well, you never let me apologize?—”
“Yeah, you did, multiple times, but that’s in the past now. They were just mad because they thought I was takin’ advantage of you.”
“I hated myself for a long time, for doing that to you.” Her eyes cast down to the table. “They wouldn’t listen, of course. Maybe it was that, or their controlling ways, but I think something inside me broke that night.”
I stare at her, unsure why she’s telling me all this. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.
“We had a big fight, as I’m sure you can imagine, and I said some things. The truth is, I meant them all.”
I wonder if she remembers telling me she loved me and always would. I’ve kept her text messages all these years, never daring once to text her again. It was better that way. From time to time, she’d message me, telling me about her day. And I’d read them, turning my notifications off so she wouldn’t know if I had or not. And that’s how it was for a long time. I meant what I said about getting out of Greenlark, creating a life for herself, and she has.
“Is that so?”
“Yep.” She pops the ‘p’.
“Well, we’ve both grown up a lot since then.”
“Crystal?” One of the girls tugs on her arm. “I want to dance.”
“In a second,” Crystal replies, then turns back to me. “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”
I stare at her. Fuck, she’s so pretty. But she’s Luca’s little sister. I want to ask her what she’s been doing. If she’s happy. If she ever thinks of me. But that would be dangerous.
“I am.” It’s not a complete lie. I’m happy some of the time. “What about you? Are you doin’ everythin’ you said you were goin’ to do?”
“I promised.” Her intense gaze says something else, and I don’t know exactly what that means. “I keep my promises.”
I pique one eyebrow. “I’m glad. You were always better than that shitty place.”
She shrugs. “It wasn’t so bad.”
Maybe on her side of town. They say the grass isn’t always greener, but that’s a load of shit.
Her friend tugs at her again and I take her in one last time for old time’s sake.
“Dance with me?” She stands.
I laugh. “Not on your life.”
Crystal huffs.“Don’t go anywhere,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”
She turns, and though I try not to fixate my gaze on her ass, it’s impossible.
I can’t help but snicker to myself. Still the same bossy little brat, not much has changed there.
But I need to get the fuck out of here.
It seems Crystal may be the only one around here to keep her fucking promises.