Chapter Nineteen
Rome-eo Has Fallen
“So then the preppy douche dude was like, ‘you asswipe, you just took my parking space,’ and I was like, ‘I don’t see the name Dumbass on it, so it must not be yours.’ Then he got super pissy, so I had to put on my jacket to show him who he was messing with. He shut up double-quick, hopped into his small-dick-energy Porche, and went on his merry way. That’s the power of the jacket you’re wearing right now, Shiloh.”
Alone in the Barracks’ commercial-sized kitchen with Arthur, my protective shadow whenever Romeo wasn’t around, I checked items off the monster-sized grocery list as I put the provisions away. Ten loaves of bread, fifty bags of hamburger and hot dog buns, sixty pounds of ground chuck, an equal amount of bratwurst links, enough ribs to rebuild a small herd of cows, fresh produce standbys like onions, peppers, lettuce, tomatoes and potatoes, countless bags of chips, vats of ranch dip, five extra-large veggie trays, ten trays of cold cuts, plus cheese cubes and slices, and a pyramid of boxes of soda just inside the back door.
Cases of beer and alcohol had already been delivered straight to the Clubhouse. Everything else had been sent to the Barracks in prep for the mandatory regional “church” meeting and the huge barbecue blowout that was supposed to happen immediately after. I’d offered to help in the food prep, which explained why I was in the kitchen at eight in the morning, overseeing the food delivery and getting the coffee going for the likes of Slash, one of the Gravedigger lieutenants. He’d already been in twice to pour himself a cup, and Arthur had gazed at him in something close to puppy-like devotion. I thought it was downright adorable, but since Arthur had aspirations of being a badass—and therefore would die of embarrassment at being called adorable—I prudently kept my thoughts to myself.
“I’m a native Chicagoan,” I muttered, running a pencil down the receipt that had come with the grocery delivery. Something was off and I couldn’t figure out what it was. “And as a native Chicagoan, I’ll admit I’ve never heard of a barbecue happening in January, unless it’s happening outside Soldier Field during a tailgate party for the Bears. Now that’s something that makes sense to me.”
Arthur’s face lit up. “You’re a Bears fan?”
“No, my friend, I’m the Bears fan. As in, the best fan, the greatest fan, the most rabid fan of all time. Except for my father,” I added fairly. “He’s the one who taught me all about football. We never missed a game, and some of my greatest childhood memories are of us huddled around the TV, screaming our heads off.” I looked around the kitchen, taking stock. “The only barbecue I ever attended in January was a tailgate party when the Bears were one step away from getting into the Super Bowl.” I made a little face at him. “They didn’t make it, so in the end our tailgate party turned into a tailgate wake. My dad was so sad he couldn’t even polish off his bratwurst.”
“Now that’s sad,” Arthur said so seriously I snorted. “I don’t think tonight’s barbecue is going to be sad, though, and the weather’s actually going to be pretty decent for it.”
He wasn’t wrong. The forecast for the next several days was for mild, spring-like temps and clear, sunny skies. Even Mother Nature seemed to bow to the will of the Gravediggers, and who could blame her? Almost all of them were crazy-hot and had that special aura of danger that was impossible to resist. It was like a prerequisite.
Arthur, my stalwart protector, was no exception, even though he was a couple years younger than me. Built like a high school quarterback with that same cocky swagger that I remembered from my own high school years, Arthur had graduated from being a hang-around at the clubhouse to an actual prospect. The next step for him was to become “patched in,” or a full-fledged member of the Gravediggers, something he yearned to be with every fiber of his being. I’d already learned he had a mad love for the open road, and felt genuinely “caged” when inside a car. He rode his bike even in subzero weather, something that not even Romeo was willing to do. He could also break down a motorcycle engine and put it back together in an hour. Apparently this was an awesome feat, and since I couldn’t even fix my toaster when it broke I couldn’t help but be impressed. I wasn’t alone in that regard; since he’d first shown up on the Gravediggers’ doorstep, Arthur had gained the respect of every mechanic and fabricator at Ride Or Die Choppers. Most prospects washed out before ever getting patched in, but everyone knew Arthur wasn’t going to be one of them.
“Speaking of jackets,” I said, sliding Arthur a glance, “let’s talk about yours.”
“I thought we were talking about the Bears.”
“We can talk about anything we want, and right now I want to get back to something you said about the power of the jacket.”
His brows went up. “What about it?”
“If I’m understanding how things go in this club, you’re working to earn your patch, right?”
He adjusted his leather jacket and stood a little taller. “You got it. I’m almost there, too.”
Yep. I knew he was close. “I’m just wondering how you scared that guy off without having an official Gravediggers patch.”
“It’s all in the attitude, Shiloh. I may not have my patch yet, but I have that all-important Gravedigger attitude, you know?”
“Really.”
“Yeah. No one pushes a Gravedigger around. For instance, when I put that jacket on right in front of that dude who was pissed off about a parking space, it was like putting on Superman’s cape. People can feel that attitude. They respect the power of it. You’ll see what I mean after wearing that jacket for a while.”
“I always wondered what it felt like to be Superman. I’ll take it if I can get it.” I frowned again at the receipt. Aha. Finally figured out what was missing. “When do you get your patch, Arthur? You seem like you’re ready for it.”
“I know, right? I’m totally ready, but I’ve still got a few trials to go through.”
“Trials? Like what?”
“That’s club business.” He said it with such a sense of importance it took everything I had not to laugh. “I’m just hoping we can finally get this war going so I can get a chance to prove myself.”
Like that, my humor vanished. “Not funny, dude.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You do realize people die in war, right?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Clashes like this have to happen periodically, Shiloh. It clears the air and sets strict boundaries. In the long run it actually helps keep the hostilities down to a minimum. So if you look at it that way, war is a good thing.”
“Nobody should look at war that way. What if you’re the one who dies?”
“I’m too quick to die. I’ve got catlike reflexes.”
Good grief. “Do me a favor and see if you and your catlike reflexes can catch the delivery guy. We’re missing twenty pounds of buffalo-style chicken wings. If he can’t cough them up on the spot, maybe you can go to war with him.”
Arthur rolled his eyes again, grabbed the receipt I held out to him and trotted out the door. I watched him go, frowning at his casual attitude toward what I thought of as a looming catastrophe. I was only two years older than Arthur, yet somehow he seemed almost like a kid playing soldier who had no idea the guns were real. Thankfully Romeo didn’t share that alarmingly casual, dislocated-from-reality point of view, and none of the officers in the club did either, as far as I could tell. That gave me hope. Maybe that would be enough to keep blood from being shed.
“Morning, sunshine.” Misty wandered into the kitchen, yawning and sleepy-eyed. “Ugh, I feel like I need another eight hours of sleep. I never sleep well away from my own bed, and on top of that I never sleep well when Lasso’s not there for me to use as my pillow. I feel like the walking dead.”
Aw. “Maybe next time he goes abroad he can take you with him.” I opened a cabinet and gave a tiny cheer. A nice big crockpot that I could put my queso con carne in was exactly what the doctor ordered.
“Usually Lasso leaves me at home when it comes to business, but this time around he’s been gone for almost two weeks, and I’m missing that man something fierce.” She came to a sudden halt, blinking hard. “Shiloh, honey, what are you wearing?”
I placed the crockpot on the counter before turning to face her, all the while wondering if my face was as red-hot as it felt. “A present Romeo gave me yesterday. Like it?”
Misty’s expression lit up like a Christmas tree, and she let out a screech loud enough to be heard in Wisconsin. “Like it? Oh my God, I love it! Question is, do you like it?”
I beamed at her. “It’s a package deal—the jacket comes with the man, so it’s by far the best present I’ve ever received.”
Misty let out another screech and tackle-hugged me, which I returned in spades while laughing like a loon. Had it not been for Misty, I probably wouldn’t have understood the full value of what Romeo had given me yesterday when he gave me this jacket. The warmth and genuine happiness in her eyes told me everything I needed to know about Misty—she loved the people in her sphere, and she was at her happiest when they were happy. In my book, that made her amazing.
“What the hell is going on in here? You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.” Looking a bit haggard but still well within the range of blonde bombshell, Mabel and another Gravedigger woman I’d met last night—Zee’s new woman, Ana-Sofia Xenakis—came into the kitchen. “There better be a mouse or a rat or something that’s freaking you out, or I’m going to be pissed.”
“Mabel, look.” Not at all daunted by the older woman’s tone, Misty beamed and presented me like I was a prize she’d won. Then, she flipped me around to show off the back of the jacket. “It’s official—Rome-eo has fallen.”
The collective gasp from the women in the doorway was oddly satisfying. Then Mabel let out a whoop of her own, and the next second I was surrounded by everyone, offering up hugs and excited chatter. At some point someone broke out some orange juice and a bottle of cheap champagne they found in the fridge to make mimosas, and before I knew it we were gathered around the kitchen’s stainless-steel island, glasses in hand and sharing stories of how they had received their jackets. This was a surprisingly romantic side of the biker world I hadn’t even known existed, and as I listened to the Gravedigger women tell their tales of the men they loved, I found myself falling for the world Romeo had chosen to live in just as much as I’d fallen for the man himself.
“I’m still adjusting to the mysterious ways of the badass biker,” I admitted with a grin and set my glass aside when my head began to swim oh so gently. Getting lit before lunch was never a cool idea. “But normal events like get-togethers and barbecues help me realize that the world I come from and Romeo’s world have a lot more in common than I thought.”
“Ooh, sister, I like the positive attitude you’ve got going on, because it’s a beautiful thing,” Misty said, toasting me with her glass. “But I also feel that as your self-appointed guide to your new world, I need to prepare you for what’s to come tonight after the men wrap up their regional church meeting.”
My brows raised. “Romeo said that’s when the three Bs get rolled out—bonfire, barbecue and beer.”
“Tonight’s party isn’t going to be like any suburban barbecue you’ve ever gone to, honey,” Mabel put in, before she nodded at Ana-Sofia. “You’re new here too, so the two of you need to listen up, because tonight’s going to be a test for you both—a test to see if you can really handle being in this world.”
Ana-Sofia’s dark eyes widened before she and I exchanged glances. “A test for us? I thought it was just going to be a party now that all the Gravediggers are together.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Misty nodded. “Thing is, when Gravedigger men get together, they party hard.”
Again Ana-Sofia and I looked at each other, and I wondered if I looked as worried as she did.
“I’ve got a question for you girls,” Mabel said, leaning both hands on the island. “What is a mama?”
Ana-Sofia blinked, while I frowned.
“The opposite of a papa,” I said when it was clear Ana-Sofia wasn’t going to answer other than shaking her head in bewilderment. “I sometimes called my own mother that—you know, when we were still speaking to each other.”
Mabel’s mouth curled ruefully. “That’s the civilian world term. Here in the Gravedigger world, a mama—which is what I used to be back in the day—is a girl or young woman who hangs around the club day in and day out because she loves the scene. More and more often these days they’re called club girls, but they mean the same thing. You two are seen as civilian wives, which is quite different from the mamas or club girls.”
My frown didn’t go away. “Okay, so… what’s the difference? And also, doesn’t this seem like a lot of complicated labeling? It’s almost like another language.”
“That’s exactly what it is.” Mabel beamed at me as if I had said something brilliant. “You’re in a new world, so you’ve got to learn a new language, as well as the importance of all those so-called labels. And the first thing you need to know is that you’re not the only women in your men’s lives.”
Ana-Sofia’s back snapped ramrod straight. “I damn well better be.”
I was liking Ana-Sofia more and more.
Mabel held up a calming hand. “Bear with me, because I’m trying to help you make sense of this new culture you’ve chosen to be in. The men in this world understand you don’t necessarily know the rules, but they’re usually too busy dealing with club business to sort it out for you. That’s why I’m here, trying to explain what everything means.”
“So what is a mama, exactly?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.
“A girl or woman who hangs out at the clubhouse because she loves the life of a biker—specifically, getting drunk, getting rowdy, and getting laid.”
Okay, then.
“In other words, mamas-slash-club girls are the biker version of party girls.” Ana-Sofia’s perfect little bow mouth tightened. “I come from Lincoln Park, with its private schools and country clubs, but I assure you, we have our fair share of party girls in that world, too. They’re more like sharks than humans, though—always on the move and always on the lookout for a big, juicy bank account in the form of an unmarried man.”
“See?” Mabel gestured at Ana-Sofia, nodding. “They exist in every world, no matter what label you put on them, and back in the day I was the biggest shark of them all. I was going to land myself a biker, come hell or high water, and that’s the main thought in every hot little mama’s head.”
I nodded, filing it away. Good to know.
“Now,” Mabel went on, “as far as I know, the two of you haven’t actually spent any real time inside the Clubhouse. Is that right?”
Again Ana-Sofia and I exchanged looks before I shook my head. “I’ve never stepped foot inside the Clubhouse.”
“I have,” Ana-Sofia said, with a dainty grimace. “We were headed out to dinner with my parents when Zee got called in by Tyr, so I didn’t have my jacket with me when we walked into the Clubhouse. Some Neanderthal grabbed my ass the instant Zee stepped away. All I remember is lots of shouting, a massive brawl, and then Zee got me the hell out of there. I think I was inside for all of eight minutes.”
“I heard about that misunderstanding,” Misty said from her side of the stainless-steel island, grinning. “Tomahawk was the ass-grabber, and Zee made the idiotic mistake of leaving you all alone without you wearing his patch. Tomahawk thought you were available, since you weren’t officially identified as Zee’s ol’ lady, and there are only two types of women allowed inside the Gravediggers Clubhouse—ol’ ladies, and mamas.”
“Don’t forget the easy lays,” Mabel added, nodding seriously. “Or easy fucks, if you want to get down and dirty, which is how our men usually refer to them. Other clubs sometimes refer to them as sweet butts, but we’re Chicagoans. We call ‘em as we see ‘em.”
This was getting better and better. “What’s the difference between a mama and an easy lay?”
“Agendas,” Misty said smartly, shrugging. “The mamas, or club girls, are genuinely dedicated to the life, and they want to find a good man within this world who feels the same way. On the other hand, an easy lay shows up every now and again to take a walk on the wild side. Maybe she has something to prove to herself. Maybe she just has an itch that needs scratching that no one in her everyday life can reach.”
Ana-Sofia looked confused. “Like what?”
Mabel sighed. “Okay, let’s give you an example. A couple years back there was a woman who showed up. Real looker, dressed head to foot in that high-priced Dolce and Gabbana shit. Come to find out, this woman is some brainiac VP at some swanky-ass bank, dealing with lots of high-pressure situations. She said she needed to blow off some steam, so she came over here because she wanted to know what it was like to have a train run on her. She must’ve liked it, because she’s come back at least half a dozen times since then.”
“A train?” I said it carefully, not wanting to sound judgy, because Mabel had once been one of the Gravedigger mamas, and I had no idea how closely she related to the so-called easy lays. Good God. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“If you think it means being fucked by a bunch of men, one right after another, then yes. It does,” Mabel kept her gaze on mine as if searching for my very soul. “I know you were a nice suburban girl kept by Marvel at his daddy’s club, so I don’t know if that sort of thing was done to you—”
“It wasn’t.” Now that I knew the whole story behind my kidnapping, I realized that Hades and Marvel hadn’t wanted to break me so completely they’d never get my brother to cooperate. But I hadn’t known that at the time, so for those three horrible days I’d lived in terror that it would come to that. “It was just Marvel, but… that was enough.”
Mabel nodded. “You didn’t want to be there, but in this banker woman’s case, she wanted to be where she was. You understand me, girls? All the easy lays are exactly where they want to be, just like all the mamas are where they want to be. No one’s forcing them to be here with the Gravediggers. Hell, you’ve seen these men. Women with half a brain are ready to line up around the block for a chance to be with them.”
“Believe me, I’m not judging the women, or the men who take what’s being offered,” I assured her. “I’ll admit I don’t know anything about this world, but I do know enough about life not to judge what people do. My dad taught me that lesson—instead of questioning what had happened to me for three days, he just made me feel like I’d asked for it, so I try very hard not to pass judgment on situations I know nothing about.”
“That sonofabitch,” Mabel muttered as if to herself, before she shook her head as if dismissing bad thoughts. “Don’t you worry, honey, you’ve got a new family in Romeo, you hear me? And you can add Ashtray and me into the mix, and Misty and her Lasso, though you’ve never met him. He’s good people, and I get the feeling little Ana-Sofia is good people too. So you just hang with us, and we’ll show you what true family’s all about.”
“Absolutely,” Ana-Sofia reached over and gave my hand a warm squeeze, making me love her all the more, before she turned her attention to Mabel. “Now, tell me more about tonight. What should we expect to see at the party?”
Mabel pursed her lips in thought. “Well, if it’s like other parties this club has thrown, it’s going to get real rowdy real fast, and I don’t want the two of you to be so shocked and horrified that you get scared away. That’s why Misty and I are giving you fair warning about it now.”
“I almost broke up with Lasso after my first party at the Gravedigger Clubhouse,” Misty volunteered with a little shudder. “I wasn’t sheltered, considering what my mother was, but dear God.”
I gave her a leery look. “That bad?”
“Let me put it this way, girlfriend. I never knew orgies were an actual thing until I walked in on one.”
Both Ana-Sofia and I gasped.
“Orgies happen,” Mabel said, her tone as mild as if she’d just acknowledged that hiccups happened. “It might even happen tonight at the party. You’re going to see a lot of the hottest little mamas doing what they do best, and any and every member of the club doing what they do best with their mama of choice. Same for the easy lays.”
“What about our men?” Ana-Sofia said, and her expression looked exactly how I felt—torn between worried and ready to go to war with any woman who would dare to set their sights on her man. “Because I’m saying it now—I will cut a bitch, and then Zee, if he decides he’s going to screw someone else while I’m right here.”
“You need to make that very clear to Zee,” Misty advised from her end of the island. “But I’m fairly certain he would never do that, considering how possessive he is of you, Ana-Sofia. Same for you, Shiloh,” she added, shooting me a wink. “I’ve seen Romeo with you and how he hovers and tends to your every need. That man knows damn well you’re his treasure.”
“Make no mistake, though,” Mabel added with a seriousness that told me she was about to drop some epic wisdom. “As sweet as your men might be with you when they’re behind closed doors, they’re used to life being a certain way. This is their world you’ve chosen to enter. Some of their behaviors might be tough for them to change. It might even be difficult for them to understand why you’d want them to change.”
“Romeo’s a smart guy.” It was almost impossible keeping the heat out of my voice at the thought of Romeo hooking up with some rando while taking care of “club business,” so I didn’t even try. “I’m with Ana-Sofia on this. If I threaten to cut off his favorite appendage, I’m sure he’ll be able to understand that as long as he’s with me, his easy-lay days are over.”
“Or, you could make it so your man doesn’t have any need for other women when he’s got you right there, all hot and ready to go,” Misty said, her smile turning sly. “Rock your man’s world before church, and he’ll never be tempted to touch another woman. At least, not without knowing he’s running the risk of losing the best thing he’s ever had in his life, and that’s you.”