Chapter Eight. #2
“The begging rule is off for lunch,” he muttered as he bent his head and brushed a light kiss over my lips.
“Just for lunch,” I agreed, intending to take full advantage of it. Wylde grinned and wrapped an arm around my waist.
As we approached the table, I checked over the people sitting there. It was clear who his parents were. He favoured his father but had his mother’s eyes. A heavily made-up young woman sat with a space next to her, clearly meant for Wylde. A couple sat near the girl with disapproval in their eyes.
Next to his parents was an older couple, disgust and anger pouring from them, with censure added to the mix. Opposite them was another older couple who were the total opposites of everyone else. The woman had sheer glee written across her face, and the man had a huge grin.
“Hayden, my boy!” he cried as he stood up. “Who is this delightful creature?”
“Hey, Pops,” Wylde said as he approached and let go of my hand to shoulder-clasp the older gentleman in a hug. “This is Sapphire.”
“My dear girl, you’ve no idea how relieved I am to see someone normal!” the man said. “Call me Pops!”
Someone snorted, but I chose to ignore them.
“Hello, Pops,” I said as Pops lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles.
“Gramma, control him,” Wylde teased, snatching my hand back. The woman Wylde called Gramma stood and wrapped me in a hug.
“Thank fuck you’re normal!” she whispered in my ear, and I laughed.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” I replied, and she pulled back, her eyes twinkling.
“Tom, shift along and sit with Megan while Sapphire and Hayden sit with us,” Gramma ordered.
Tom shifted along as the woman who’d been smiling at Wylde pouted and looked disgruntled at suddenly finding Pops next to her. Wylde held out my chair, and I sat as he shunted it forward.
“Are you going to introduce… your guest?” the woman who was Wylde’s mom asked.
“Sapphire, these are my parents, Jennifer and Malcolm Wylde, and my paternal grandparents, Marla and Harold Wylde. Pops and Gramma are my maternal grandparents, and this is Mr and Mrs Dickenson and their daughter, Megan. This is Sapphire, everyone,” Wylde said as he held my hand on the table.
His mother’s eyes shot to it, and a sneer flicked across her face. “Just Sapphire?”
“Well, I also answer to Prez, but you don’t know me well enough to call me that,” I replied, and Wylde squeezed my hand. Amusement crossed his face.
“Prez?” Mr Dickenson questioned.
“I run the Portsmouth Chapter of the Royal Harlots MC.”
“You’re a gang member?” Jennifer exclaimed, and I laughed. “You find that funny?” she demanded.
“I don’t find ignorance funny at all. Especially in a so-called educated company,” I retorted. Jennifer’s mouth dropped open as Gramma began laughing. “I said I run a motorcycle club. The emphasis is on the word club. Not a gang. Please don’t insult me further.”
“You ride one of those Harleys?” Gramma asked.
“Yes, I have a Lowrider.”
“Shall we order?” Jennifer interrupted with a sniff.
“Sure,” Wylde replied. “How’s things going, Pops?” Wylde asked, passing me a menu.
“All’s good, boy. It looks like you’ve been busy,” Pops replied with a nod at me.
“Sapphire likes to keep me on my toes. She’s a handful like Gramma,” Wylde replied.
“Wylde,” I murmured.
“Why do you call him Wylde?” Megan demanded. “His name is Hayden.”
“He’s Wylde, because, well… he’s wild where it counts,” I said, and Wylde turned and kissed me. I smiled against his lips and felt his own grin.
“You’re amazing,” he muttered.
“Are you ready to order?” Jennifer demanded rudely as a waiter approached.
Jennifer, Megan, Mrs Dickenson, and Marla all ordered a version of salad, and I wrinkled my nose. The hell I would.
“Sure, I’ll have the sirloin steak with peppercorn sauce and sauté potatoes. Sweetheart, what would you like?” Wylde asked, turning to me.
“I’ll take the same with salad, please,” I replied.
“You’ll eat all that?” Megan demanded, appalled, and looked me over.
“Yes. Wylde hates women who have salad for lunch and pick at it like a rabbit. He can’t stand them.
What was it you said to me, babe? Ah, yes, a woman who is all skin and bones doesn’t make an attractive bed partner.
Men like something to grab; luckily, I have the tits and ass to keep you happy even though I’m slender,” I said.
The waiter choked on a laugh as he took everyone’s orders and scurried away.
Gramma burst into gales of laughter as the other four women looked insulted.
“Too true. Who wants to take a stick insect to bed? Give me something to grab any day!” Tom exclaimed.
Wylde laughed and clapped his grandfather on the shoulder. “True, Pops, true,” he agreed.
“We are at lunch. Do you mind? Please mind your language, young lady,” Malcolm snapped.
“Why?” I retorted, and Malcolm appeared taken aback that I’d challenged him.
“Because I asked, show some courtesy.”
“Respect is earned, and you’ve not gained mine.”
Malcolm looked nonplussed. “What, because you’ve got money, you think I should automatically respect you? Dude, get a life,” I continued, and Wylde slung an arm over my shoulder. Delight was rolling off him in waves.
“How long have you two known each other?” Malcolm inquired with distaste.
“A few years, but we were friends first before deciding to take it further,” Wylde answered as he went to pour me a glass of wine.
“Water, please, Wylde. You know I never drink in the day,” I murmured.
Jennifer’s eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline. “You don’t? Dressed like that and an MC member, and you expect us to believe you don’t drink?”
“No, I don’t. Not when I might be called out to attend to an issue.”
“Problem?” Mr Dickenson spoke for the first time.
“Yes, today is my turn to be on call for our companies.”
“You have businesses? A coffee shop or something?” Megan tittered, and her parents laughed. Okay, the gloves were coming off.
The food appeared and was placed in front of us. I cut into my steak and took a bite. It was perfect.
I smiled sweetly. “Is that where you work? A coffee shop?”
“Oh, I don’t work,” Megan replied.
“Then what do you offer to society? Pretty faces are a dime a dozen, as is breeding. What’s the point of your life?” I asked, and Gramma broke into gales of laughter.
“I… um… Mom!” Megan hissed.
“Well, what do you contribute? Does your gang keep the local officers in a job?” Mrs Dickenson asked.
I laughed. “I won’t repeat myself. We are a club, not a gang.
Should you insist on continuing to insult me, I shan’t be so restrained.
But in answer to your question, let’s see.
The club owns The Royal Ink, a tattoo shop.
We also own Ambrosia, a restaurant I’m sure you’re all aware of and have dined at.
The Royal Sleep is our hotel. We own the Royal Gardens, the garden centre.
In addition, we own three motels called Royal Motels. ”
“Anything else?” Pops asked as silence filled the breath of air I took. Mr Dickenson was looking disgruntled.
“Oh yes. We are also the owners of the Royal Club, an exclusive women’s club which Mrs Wylde and Mrs Dickenson both belong to—for now.
Megan has applied but hasn’t been accepted yet.
We also own Mystic Aura, the premier psychic shop in town, and Royal Tours, the local boat hire and tour service.
The Harlot’s Garage is ours, as is the Harlot’s Strip Club, and The Harlot’s Hire, a stripper service. ” I paused and smiled.
Mr Wylde was narrowing his eyes in consideration.
“And let’s not forget the Royal Resort in Wolfeboro, the Royal Clean, a cleaning service that specialises in tidying up after crimes and home deaths.
There’s also our dance studio, The Royal Grind.
And we just bought a bookstore, which is awaiting a name.
Does that answer your question about how I contribute to society?
I do not sit on my ass looking pretty and waiting for a rich wallet to turn up and then spawn more kids who’ll do the same. ”
“I dislike your attitude,” Mr Wylde said, and I smiled sweetly.
“We’re even, as I don't like yours.” I paused before speaking my mind.
“From the moment I entered, you all sat here being judgmental. Feel free. But don’t expect me to sit here and take it.
Especially as three of you sitting here use several of my club’s services.
If you want me to be a bitch, I could start spilling secrets,” I stated with another grin.
“You’re a rather vile, insignificant person, aren’t you?” Marla spoke for the first time.
“Says you. Without your husband, who would you be?” I challenged.
Marla subsided with a baleful look, and Wylde shook beside me. For a moment, I wondered if I’d gone too far, but when he turned to me and kissed me, I saw the glee in his eyes.