13. Chapter 13
thirteen
W ith a week left to go until Christmas, Cassie was at work, shuffling through the racks of tees left in disarray by customers.
It was a dark afternoon, with heavy clouds spitting snow onto the dirty ice and slush of the downtown Spokane streets. Cassie’s spirits were as low as the flickering neon light overhead. As it finally gave up the ghost and blinked out, she tipped back her head to glower upward.
“That’s all I needed,” she called to the dead bulb, and the store, empty of customers at this hour. It was nearly five o’clock. Seemed everyone but her was home, or somewhere having supper or drinks.
Then the bell over the front door tinkled, and she turned to see who the hell—and yes, her language had deteriorated in the last few days, sue her--was coming in just before closing.
She groaned to herself. Just her freaking luck, it was a couple—a cute one, with the tall guy’s arm protectively around his smaller date. Now she had to smile while they giggled and cooed at each other.
“Hi, Cassie,” the guy called.
She straightened, and blinked in surprise. The late customer was Drew, and he had a chick with him. This must be his mystery girlfriend.
“Hey guys,” Cassie called, already on the move toward them, thrilled by this break in the boredom.
She brushed a hand down over her top, making sure it was mostly straight, and fluffed her hair with her other hand. Thank God she’d worn a RaeAnn-approved outfit today, tall boots with black leggings tucked in, and a long, black-and-cream plaid, Western-style, flannel shirt with big, red roses embroidered all over the yoke, over a black tee. Sparkly black earrings dangled from her ears, and her dad’s fancy, black Western belt cinched in her waist.
“Hey, Cassie,” Drew said back, with a big smile. “Got someone for you to meet.”
He wore a snow-dusted beanie and a down jacket over jeans and boots. He had his arm around a slender young woman, who was smiling at Cassie, her eyes bright. And she was gorgeous, with creamy skin a shade darker than Drew’s, and spirals of dark caramel hair curling from the hood of her aubergine down jacket. Under this she wore jeans tucked into tall boots similar to Cassie’s.
“This is Piper,” he said with obvious pride. “Piper, this is my friend Cassie.”
“Hi, Cassie,” Piper said, so quickly her words nearly tumbled over themselves. “Drew’s told me a lot about you. It’s so great to finally meet you, I can’t believe I’m finally here, and—ooh, there I go.” She raised a fuzzy-mittened hand to her face, hunching her shoulders and turning into Drew’s embrace. “I kinda babble when I’m nervous,” she said, her voice muffled by his coat.
Drew tipped his head down to her, grinning. “It’s okay, baby. Cassie’s cool, like I told you. You’re fine.”
Aww. Cassie made a surreptitious heart emoji at him with her hands before her chest, and he returned her smile. The two were adorable together.
“I’m glad to meet you too, Piper,” she said.
“So, we were hoping you could come and have dinner with us,” Drew told Cassie. “Downtown here somewhere. Give you girls the chance to get to know each other, before…y’know, Piper has to meet the whole crowd.”
Piper nodded, her curls bouncing, her lovely eyes wide. Cassie’s heart melted a little more. Piper might be tall and gorgeous and slim, all the things Cassie was not, but she was like a fawn, uncertain of her own place in the wide world.
Geez, when the old ladies met her, they were gonna want to adopt her.
“I’m so glad you stopped by,” Cassie told the couple. “’Cause it is closing time here at Mamba Mama’s. Let me just lock up and count the till and such, and we can go.”
“Cool. We’ll look around while you do that,” Drew said. “This place is the funk.”
Cassie grinned to herself as she went about closing up, and they wandered off through the racks. The funk, indeed. Maybe she could figure out a way to use that in a window ad.
By the end of supper at Sparky’s Brews and Chews, a popular brewpub two blocks from Mamba, the three of them had eaten their fill of pizza and wings, along with their drinks of choice.
Even better, a new friendship had begun.
Drew sat back in their booth, smiling as Piper and Cassie talked about school—community college for both, Piper was enrolled locally in accounting. Roommates—Piper lived with three other girls in a small house in west Spokane, one of whom was nice, but two were bitches (Drew’s opinion). And jobs--Piper worked part time as bookkeeper for the auto-repair business where Drew was a mechanic.
“Ooh, an office romance,” Cassie teased. “Are you two on the down-low, or do the other guys know?”
“Oh, they know,” Drew said, a dark look passing over his face. “’Cause one of them thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I had to let him know Piper needs nothing from him, verbal or otherwise.”
Piper gave Cassie a bashful smile. “I like coming to work since Drew started there. Before … it was kinda rough.”
“I hear you,” Cassie said, with a sigh.
“What?” Drew demanded, leaning forward. “Your boss gives you a hard time? He put the moves on you?”
“Oh no,” Cassie hastened to assure him before he went into Flyer protective mode. “He’d have to wake up long enough. A complete stoner, he keeps edibles in his desk. Rolls in late, and does nothing all day. Worst of all, he won’t listen to any of my ideas, won’t let me do anything different.”
“That’s gross,” Piper sympathized. “But I like your shop. I think I want one of those big, hand-woven baskets, to keep my laundry in.”
“I’ll give you the employee discount,” Cassie assured her.
Drew merely grunted, leaning back again to survey a group of newcomers pushing in through the glass doors of the brewpub. He was gonna make a great Devil’s Flyer—he already had that protective vibe going on. But then he straightened, lifting an arm. “There’s my buddy Dean,” he said to Piper with a pleased smile. “You mind if I go say hey?”
“Go ahead,” she said.
Cassie watched as Drew strode through the tables to greet another guy. The newcomer turned and greeted Drew with a shoulder-clapping hug, and a grin that creased his lean, tanned face under his gray beanie. He pulled open his black puffer coat as they spoke, revealing jeans and a snug tee.
Drew waved toward their table, and his friend looked over, his gaze locking on Cassie in a way that sent a little zing through her middle.
Huh, maybe Heavy Hanks wasn’t the only fish in the sea.
Dean Bucholz was the perfect casual rebound guy.
He was good-looking, easy-going and just out of the USAF, so he had time on his hands until he took another job. Best of all, Drew knew him well, as they’d gone through high school together.
So when Dean asked Cassie for her phone number on the sidewalk outside the brewpub later, she gave it to him. “As long as you’re not afraid to hang out with a girl who has a bunch of nosy bikers up in her business all the time,” she said, only half in jest.
He gave her his slow smile. “I think I can handle that. ‘Sides, if I know Drew, he’ll be the first in line to whale on me if I disrespect you.”
“Drew’s a good guy,” she said, hoping the dim glow of the streetlights hid her hot cheeks. “And I like your manners just fine.”
“In that case, you like to dance to country? I hear there’s live music now at that big place up north of the river.”
“I love country,” she said eagerly. “Muscle Road plays there sometimes.”
His smile widened. “It’s a date. This weekend suit you?”
“Perfect.”
“Darned near.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, leaving little doubt what would make the situation truly perfect.
He was a smooth talker. But the twinkle in his eye said ‘sure, he was a flirt, but wasn’t it fun?’
She smiled back at him, and tipped her head to one side, playing with her earring. “Maybe we can work on moving that further up the scale.”
He lifted his brows in admiration. “I’ll bet we can.”
And just like that, instead of dreading more lonely nights, wondering who a certain biker was with and exactly what he was doing with her, Cassie was actually looking forward to the coming weekend. And she was gonna use Dean to do more than have a good weekend—a lot more. If he was willing, of course.
With his help, she was gonna shove that biker where he belonged, wa-aay into the back of her memory.
And leave him there, to gather dust.
When Cassie came home that evening, she found an elf candy dish with red and green M3 Christmas’ in red embroidery on her pillows.
Whoa, what was next, a pair of Christmas jammies left on her bed? She liked Christmas too, but she drew the line there. She didn’t wanna hurt Rae’s feelings, but maybe she should lock her door when she left the house?
Connor’s door was open down the hall, so Cassie poked her head in. He sat at his desk, a textbook open, his phone in his lap.
Cassie looked around his room, decorated with posters of famous soccer players, decked-out Harleys, and the usual teen boy clutter. But she snickered when she saw the new items on his pillows, and on his desk.
Con looked up with a start, hiding his phone. “What? I’m studying.” When he saw it was her, his shoulders sagged with relief. “Hey, what’re you laughing at?”
“I see your mom has been here,” she said, pointing to the fat Santa pillow on his bed, and the girl-elf pencil holder on his desk. “She hit my room too.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. She kinda goes nuts at Christmas. She used to be the same at Easter and Halloween, till I got too old for that shit.”
“It’s cool,” Cassie said. Her mom had always put up a trendy, white and silver tree and a few baskets of flocked pine cones, bought Cassie a gift card or two, and called it good. “Except … she won’t make us wear matching sweaters for a photo, will she?”
He rolled his eyes. “No. As if Dad would let her.”
Cassie snickered again, picturing the look on their dad’s face. Although for RaeAnn, who knew what he might do?
“But you can bet she’ll be leading the charge tomorrow to get the clubhouse decorated for the big Christmas party,” Con warned her. “So if you don’t wanna help, get up at the crack of black and go to the gym or something.”
“Thanks,” Cassie said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Actually, she liked seasonal decorating. She just didn’t want to get roped into clubhouse kitchen duty, which at Thanksgiving had meant three different old ladies giving her contradictory instructions, until finally she was shooed into a corner to chop onions–euww.
She knew the last weekend before Christmas always meant a big bash at the Devil’s Flyers’ clubhouse.
The food would be a combination of catering from the Hangar and homemade specialties from the old ladies. The libations, ales from the Hangar, mixed drinks from the bar, and an array of hot mulled ciders and cold sparkling drinks for all who did not imbibe.
Cassie had heard about the party for years, and seen pictures of the happy revelers on her dad’s phone—even a few risque photos she hadn’t been meant to see.
Younger Cassie was convinced that her mom always made her stay home for Christmas just to prevent her from going to this party. Cassie had an idea she herself had been conceived after a similar Christmas party in the Tri, so she understood Nina’s feelings about this one, but she’d still resented having to miss the party because of her parents’ mistake.
This year, she was of age, and she had the perfect dress.
The red dress, with long tight sleeves, a daringly draped vee neckline that somehow managed to make her breasts look bigger, and a short, flirty skirt with sparkly thread woven through the knit fabric, seemed to have been made just for Christmas—and for her.
Cassie pictured herself strutting into the clubhouse in the dress, with her new look… And then she pictured Heavy there with that skinny bitch, and she faltered.
She could invite Dean, and make a fun foursome with Piper and Drew. Dean might not be a long-term guy, but he was good-looking, a good dancer and he was nice. He even smelled good, and she kind of got tingles when he kissed her. So he’d do for a party date.
But even with a date at her side, could she really face watching Heavy with another woman? Holding onto her, maybe kissing her, dancing with her?
Then she glared at herself in the mirror. Heavy didn’t want her—he’d said it, he’d shown it, and that meant he was nothing to her, not anymore. She had her pride, and she had a goddamn backbone. She could do this.
Fortunately, Dean instantly accepted her invitation to the party.
And on the evening of the party, by the time she’d donned some seriously smoky eye-makeup, red lipgloss, a pair of dangling diamante earrings and bracelet, the red dress and her black booties, she knew she looked good, which buoyed her mood considerably.
Ready to go, she fairly danced out of her room into the upstairs hallway.
It helped that she met her stepmother coming out of the master suite, and Rae’s eyes widened. “Oh, honey, you look amazing,” she breathed. “Is that a Nina Deloitte?”
“I guess so?” Cassie said, trying to recall the name embroidered in the label inside the low vee back. “I found it at 2nd Chances, that classy, little resale place downtown.”
“Nice,” RaeAnn approved. “I might have to look in there once in a while myself.”
Cassie smiled happily. “You’re looking pretty stunning yourself, Mrs. Carson.”
Rae had opted for a dress of deep, forest green cut velvet, with an inset of matching peekaboo lace that revealed the shadow of her cleavage. She wore her hair swept to one side, with ornate gold-toned chandelier earrings set with tiny green stones.
“Whoa!” The two of them turned to find Cooler standing at the foot of the stairs, gazing up at them. He clapped a hand over his heart, and shook his head. “Both my ladies are lookin’ so fine I’m gonna be fighting off the men tonight. Maybe we oughtta practice some self-defense moves before we leave.”
Cassie giggled. “Thanks, daddy. I’m good.”
RaeAnn rolled her eyes at him, but she did it smiling. “I think we’re safe, but thank you. You look pretty nice yourself.”
He did, in a crisp, white Western shirt and black jeans with a tooled leather belt under his cut, his short hair styled.
“Let’s grab our coats and go,” Cooler said. “Cassie, you ridin’ with us?”
“I am. I’m meeting Dean there—and Drew and Piper.”
Cooler’s smile disappeared. “This Dean can’t give you a ride?”
It was Cassie’s turn to roll her eyes at him. “Daddy, he has to go to another thing first. And I’m fine meeting him there. He’ll give me a ride home.”
The double doors of the Flyers’ club house weren't open tonight, because it was below freezing. But even in the parking lot, muffled music could be heard, and twinkling lights shone from all the roof edges.
Through the frosty windows, Cassie could see Flyers, their old ladies and friends of the club rocking out to some rollicking rock 'n' roll Christmas tune. When Cooler opened the front doors and she followed RaeAnn in, the music sorted itself into the Tractors singing raucously about Santa comin’ on a ‘Boogie-woogie Choo-choo Train’.
An oldie, but fun anyway.
Cassie stopped inside the doors to divest herself of her coat, scarf and gloves on the coat rack that the old ladies that made sure was installed, and look around.
The clubhouse looked festive in the extreme, with sparkling red and gold and white ribbons and lights roped from the overhead rafters, festooning the tables, and twinkling from the fat Christmas tree in one corner.
The women present were dressed to the hilt as well, in equally festive colors and fabrics. The men’s clothing ran the gamut, as always, from dress shirts, and slacks to tees and jeans under their Flyers’ cuts. A few men wore ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters.
Heavy, she saw with a furtive scan of the big room, was not present at all. Good, then. She could relax and have fun and not worry about the big, muscle-bound biker.
Except that the sag in her shoulders felt more like disappointment. Knowing he wasn’t here, the party felt a bit flat, as if some of the air had escaped from a festive balloon, leaving it listing in midair.
"Cassie girl," Della called from the crowd at the bar, throwing her arms up enthusiastically. She was clearly enjoying the party. Unusually for her, she wore a skirt, short and black, with a sleeveless emerald top that showcased her fit arms and shoulders and her lush figure. Her cheeks nearly matched her top, and her glossy, black hair was messy in a way that said her biker man had likely made it that way in one of the back rooms. So did the relaxed look on his handsome face as he leaned against the bar beside her, one hand on her hip, as he chatted with Rocker.
Cassie made her way through the crowd, stopping to greet her honorary uncles and their old ladies. She received admiring looks, a few squeals over her new look, and hugs or pats on the back. She also had her ass pinched. She wasn’t quick enough to catch the culprit, but suspected a glassy-eyed, smirking Snake. She gave him a dirty look and moved on.
Finally, she reached the bar, and Della.
“Hey," Cassie called over the music and the babble of voices and laughter. “Merry Christmas."
“Merry Christmas to you, girl." Della threw her arms around Cassie in a hug.
"Whoa, ease up," Cassie begged. "you're gonna crack some ribs." Della’s regular workouts paid off not just in her appearance. She had the grip strength of a boa constrictor.
“Sorry. Let's getcha a drink.” She towed Cassie to the bar. "You need to catch up."
"What's the hurry?" Cassie asked when she and Della had squeezed in between Rav, and Moke on his other side.
Della widened her eyes dramatically. "Because!” she hissed, her breath laden with tequila. “Heavy is here!"
Okay, that was a good reason. Cassie picked up one of the full shot glasses by the bottle of tequila, and tossed it back, shuddering at the burn, then grabbed a chunk of lime and sucked.
“Another one?” Della offered.
Cassie made a face, tossing the bit of fruit into the trash beneath the bar. “Ugh, no. I don’t know how you stand the taste of that stuff.”
“Hey,” Rav protested over his wife’s shoulder. “This is top shelf agave, girls. Have some respect.”
“Don’t care, don’t like it.” Cassie held up her hand, catching the attention of one of the two young women dressed up as sexy elves behind the bar. "Bartender, a margarita, please."
The elf nodded. “One margarita, coming up.”
“And while she’s mixin’ it, come dance with me,” Rav demanded. “Della’s got a blister ‘cause she wore new heels.”
Della made a pouty face. “He’s right, I do.” She showed Cassie her black, patent leather heels, which were darling, but had given her an ugly red mark on one heel. “Should’ve worn my dancin’ shoes, ‘cause I’m not going out there barefoot with all these big-foot bikers stomping around.”
“I will, Rav, but I need a margarita first,” Cassie decided.
“Okay, then I’m gonna ask Velvet,” Rav said. “Webb’s arthritis is actin’ up, an’ he can’t dance a lick.”
“Aw, that’s sweet, honey,” Della said, leaning back into his shoulder and tipping up her face to smile at him.
He grinned back and murmured something that made her giggle, and kissed her, before setting her upright on the stool, and moving away.
“You two are so sweet I need another lime to cut the taste,” Cassie said, poking Della with her bootie toe.
“We are, aren’t we?” Della agreed happily. “Got me a sweet hunk of southern man. Now we need to get you one.”
Cassie shook her head. “No-oo, we don’t. I have a date, and he’ll be here in a bit. And right now, I’m going to dance with my daddy.”
She grinned as Cooler approached, and held out his hand to her. “Hey, baby girl. How’s about a dance with your old man?”
“I’d love to.”
Heavy had never been much for the Christmas holiday, seeing it only as an excuse to get folks to spend a whole lot of money on stupid shit they were just gonna toss out the first time they had a spat. But the old ladies of the club had done a fine job of putting out one helluva spread of food, although way too much of it was sugar, which he did not eat.
Still, he was pleasantly full, and on his third glass of Hangar ale.
He made his way to the bar, stopping to let a flushed, giggling Manda hurry by, pursued by her giant, ginger biker. T-Bear was grinning like a fool, and for some damn reason, wearing a Santa hat over his wild curls. Oh, well, whatever jingled their bells.
Rav danced by with Velvet, both of them having a ball laughing and doing fancy moves to an instrumental version of some Christmas song with lots of fiddle. Webb watched from his seat beside Stick, smiling. Poor old guy had been hobbling around with a cane lately.
Heavy collected his drink and turned, elbow on the bar, to watch the other dancers.
Cooler was on the dance floor too, altho not with RaeAnn. No, he was dancing with a little blonde in a tight red dress that showed off her bodacious ass and legs.
Heavy’s shoulders twitched in premonition, as if someone had opened a window nearby, letting a chill winter draft down the back of his neck.