Chapter Five
Twister
The longer we stayed in The Badger’s Den, the more the place filled up. Not packed, but steady. Locals came in and eyed our crew with a mix of curiosity and caution. We weren’t being loud yet, but we took up space, and people noticed.
Rev nudged me from two stools down.
“Hey, Prez, either order some damn food or we need to find somewhere that serves more than whiskey.”
I turned my head and spotted Tempi behind the bar, moving fast but smooth. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy knot with tendrils escaping near her neck. Her tight black ribbed tank top and jeans fit like they were made just for her curves. She had a sharp look in her eye that made it clear she didn’t take shit from anyone.
I cleared my throat and leaned forward.
“You got food here, doll?”
Tempi didn’t miss a beat. She reached under the bar, pulled out a laminated single-page menu, and slid it toward me.
“May not be a lot, but it’s all fucking delicious.”
I picked it up and gave it a scan.
Fresh Cheese Curds. Deep Fried Cheese Curds. Soft Pretzel with Beer Cheese. Loaded Nachos. Fries. Disco Fries. Wisconsin Cheeseburger. Cheese Curd Bacon Burger. Grilled Ham and Cheese.
I let out a low whistle.
“You guys like cheese around here?”
Tempi rolled her eyes as she dried a glass.
“You’re in Wisconsin now, Twister. Cheese and beer are king.”
I chuckled and looked over the menu. Yeah, it wasn’t a huge menu, but every single thing on it sounded good. Bar food done right.
“How about you surprise me with enough food to feed all of these assholes?”
Tempi pursed her lips and gave the crew a look.
“You just want apps?”
I shrugged.
“Do ten burgers, but cut them all in half. Throw in some curds and fries. Mix it up.”
I was footing the bill like usual, but I wasn’t looking to drop a few hundred on dinner. We still had to pay for drywall, a new back door, and a fuck ton of other things.
Tempi gave me a short nod.
“You got it. Britta!”
she called over her shoulder.
“Got a big order!”
From the kitchen doorway behind the bar, Britta hollered back, “On it!”
and disappeared through swinging doors. Tempi rattled off a list of food, and Britta said ‘aye’ to each thing.
Tempi got back to work. She checked in on a table of regulars, poured a few beers, and cracked a joke with an old guy in a Packers cap who seemed to be part of the furniture. I sipped my whiskey and leaned on the bar as I watched her move.
She didn’t rush. She didn’t panic. She just worked. Like this was hers, because it was. I respected that. Admired it, even.
I’d worked my whole life to get to that place. To own something and to build it brick by brick. That’s what the clubhouse was going to be, and I dared anyone to take it from me.
Britta started passing plates out from the kitchen pass-through, and Tempi brought them over one by one. Cheese curds, fries, a tray of pretzels with beer cheese so thick it clung to the spoon.
“Food’s up!”
she called.
The guys swarmed the bar like it was a buffet at a bachelor party. Sully and Nugget grabbed cheese curds, Hodge immediately claimed the pretzel plate, and Plug damn near elbowed Cord for the disco fries.
Tempi slipped down to my end of the bar with her arms crossed as she watched the chaos unfold.
“More?”
she asked.
I looked down the bar. The guys were tearing through everything like wolves, and it was only a matter of time before they started licking the plates.
“Another round, doll.”
Tempi turned and hollered toward the kitchen.
“Same again, after the burgers come out!”
Then she turned back and leaned toward me with her hands braced on the bar.
“Another whiskey?”
I nodded and slid my empty glass toward her.
As she poured, she asked, “So, what’s your plan?”
“For?”
She smiled, with a half-laugh playing under her breath.
“You being in Madison. Just gonna be a menace to society, or maybe contribute to downtown?”
I snorted.
“Got a plan. First, we’re going to get the clubhouse set up.”
“And then?”
“Rage room.”
She blinked.
“Um, what?”
That was the usual reaction.
“Looking at a place on the east side of town,”
I said.
“Half a warehouse we’re looking to rent. You come in, get a pair of overalls, goggles, and a sledgehammer. Walk into one of the rooms and smash the shit out of whatever you can for thirty minutes. Old TVs, glassware, lamps, whatever we can stock.”
Tempi stared at me like I had three heads.
“You’re joking.”
I shook my head.
“Not at all, doll. They’re popular in bigger cities. It’s a solid stress reliever.”
She reached for a towel and wiped the bar slowly while still eyeing me.
“Well, I’ve never heard of anything like that, but I can say there’ve been days I’d love to smash the shit out of things.”
Britta came out of the kitchen again with more cheese curds, hot and golden brown with steam rising from the basket. She set them down in front of me.
I plucked one and popped it in my mouth.
It squeaked against my teeth as I chewed.
I paused mid-chew with brows pulling together.
“I can’t even remember what we were talking about because the cheese in my mouth is squeaking,”
I said to Tempi.
Tempi laughed.
“That’s because we have nothing but the freshest cheese curds here. And when they’re not fresh anymore, they get breaded and fried. It’s the life span of a curd.”
I grabbed another one.
“It’s fucking delicious but also kind of fucking weird.”
She looked around and lowered her voice.
“Don’t let the regulars hear you say that. You’ll get carried out and banned for life.”
I popped another curd in my mouth.
“Then I guess I better just keep eating and hope I become a regular.”
Tempi gave me a look that was curious, skeptical, and amused.
“Yeah, we’ll see if that happens.”
The next round of food came out. Britta brought out the ten burgers, all cut in half and arranged on trays with pickles and crispy fries. The guys descended on them with all the grace of a biker mosh pit.
I grabbed one half before they vanished. The burger was damn near perfect, juicy, and dripping with cheese and bacon. The bun was toasted. The cheese curds stacked inside didn’t hurt either.
I leaned back on my stool and looked around as I chewed.
The Badger’s Den wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t need to be. Dark wood floors, aged but solid. The walls were lined with old neon beer signs: Leinenkugel’s, Miller Lite, and Pabst. A jukebox sat near the door and glowed blue and green while blaring rock from the early 2000s.
There were three pool tables in the back, two dartboards, and a handful of high-top tables scattered between the bar and the front windows. Everything had that lived-in feel, scuffed but clean, worn but loved.
It reminded me of the first MC bar I’d ever stepped into.
Swift walked over and dragged his hand through his hair.
“Guys are wanting to check out the rest of the area,”
he said.
“Ready to head out?”
I nodded and shoved the last bite of burger in my mouth. I chased it with the last of my whiskey and pushed the empty glass toward the edge of the bar.
Tempi walked over, receipt in hand, and dropped it on the bar in front of me with a flick of her fingers.
“Your drinks are on the house,”
she said, “but that food doesn’t grow on trees.”
I glanced down at the total and let out a low whistle.
“That’s it?”
She shrugged.
“Those have been the prices for years. That’s what keeps the regulars coming back.”
I pulled out my wallet, peeled off five fifties, and slapped them on the bar.
“Keep the change, doll. That food’s worth way more than what you’re charging.”
She raised an eyebrow and scooped up the bills.
“See you around, biker. Good luck with… everything.”
The guys were already filing out. Wheels shoved Plug toward the door while Hodge carried out a tray of fries, and Nugget was singing something off-key that might’ve been Bon Jovi.
I hung back for a beat, then slid off my stool.
Tempi was talking to an older customer now and laughed at something he said. She looked relaxed and easy, like this was the world she belonged to and had no intention of giving up.
She turned and caught me looking.
Her eyes locked with mine.
Neither of us said a word.
I nodded.
She nodded back.
And then I turned and walked out.
But that look?
It stayed with me all the way down the block.