Chapter Two
Kylo
“Listen, don’t tell on me, okay?” I asked the macaw as I passed him a piece of my breakfast danish.
Eddie wasn’t at his usual place at the kitchen island. No bacon scents filled the house. There were no stacks of golden pancakes.
A part of me was disappointed. The other part hoped Eddie found his “honey” finally and was at home making her a breakfast spread instead of us. He deserved that kind of happiness.
“No!” a woman squealed as bare feet slapped on the steps.
I turned, brow raised, as a shirtless woman came running into view, a big smile on her pretty face, her tits bouncing up and down, trying to outrun Caymen through the unfamiliar house in some sort of primal foreplay.
“Gotcha,” Caymen said, throwing the half-naked (save for a barely-there pair of purple and pink striped bikini bottoms) over his shoulder and landing a hard slap to her ass.
“Oh, nooo,” the woman cooed at him, feigning some helpless Southern belle’s breathy voice. “Don’t you dare take me back to your bedroom and ravage me!”
Their voices trailed back up the staircase as I leaned against the counter and let out a little chuckle.
While all the guys aged up eventually, met a woman, fell in love, and moved on, I had to say they were missing out on some wild stories.
Especially since the Cider brothers came to prospect. They filled the crazy hole left by Coast, who was busy playing the part of step and foster daddy with the love of his life.
“Fuck you, Benny,” Mackie croaked at me. When I glanced over, he was watching me with those dark eyes of his and opening and closing his foot over and over. It was his version of begging for food. And because I was a sucker, I went over and gave him the last wedge of my danish.
I was just finishing putting a pot of coffee on when there was a hard banging on the front door. I stiffened just as Velle came downstairs, still pulling on his shirt, a tiny brunette trailing behind him as she desperately tried to finger-comb her hair back into order.
He shot me a scrunched brow look as I made my way through to the living room.
I waited, wanting to see if it was the cops banging with their club or something, since that damn sure wasn’t a hand whacking the wood like that.
Tension tightened in my stomach as I wished I wasn’t currently the most senior club member in the house. Huck was off in Navesink Bank with his whole crew, visiting his sister and her family, as well as our mother chapter.
I definitely didn’t want to be the reason we got invaded by the cops while he was gone.
Sensing my unease, Velle jumped on the couch, slightly pulling the blind back to peer out.
“Not the cops,” he said, a weird smile tugging at his lips.
Alright then.
Maybe some more hot girls.
Or a door-to-door salesman. Someone who wanted to pave the driveway or replace the windows, some shit like that.
I slid the locks and pulled the door open.
Then there was what the door had been getting knocked with.
A fucking cane. The kind with the bent rubber handle. Attached to the wrinkled hand of an elderly man.
He was a little stooped but had a bulldog kind of build, white hair, and pale green eyes.
“Yeah?” I asked, glancing behind him toward the fifty-plus community they’d built across the street. It also featured an assisted living facility.
It looked like the neighbors were coming to visit.
“Yeah? That’s how you answer the door?”
“What can we do for you, sir?” Velle asked, moving in beside me.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” the man said, his voice angry enough to be shaking.
“What about?” I asked.
“That racket last night. My wife couldn’t sleep. And when she—”
He trailed off when there was female laughter followed by feet slapping on the stairs as the little cat-and-mouse game seemed to continue.
Then there she was.
She was still topless, tits out, with nothing but a pillow hiding her junk as she streaked through the house.
“Get back here!” Caymen called, barreling down the steps while still yanking a pair of boxers into place.
“Try to catch me,” she taunted as she bolted through the kitchen, then, from the sound of things, out the back door.
Behind me, the man let out a wheezing sound that had me turning to look.
He was wide-eyed and flustered, color creeping up his neck.
“I, uh, well, that… wow.”
Velle and I shared a smile.
“Where are they going like that?” he asked.
“Either to fuck in the pool or the sh—” I trailed off, almost saying ‘shooting range.’ But I was pretty sure we weren’t supposed to have one of those. “Shed,” I finished.
“Really?” he asked, interest piqued.
“What was that about your wife again?” Velle asked.
I knew him well enough at this point to detect something leading in his voice. Like he knew exactly what the guy was going to say.
“Who?” he asked, then shook his head. “Eh, she’s always mad about something,” he said, waving a hand as he leaned on his cane, then started moving inside without an invitation.
“Makes it my problem too with all the nagging. Are there any more girls like that in… hello,” he said, seeing Velle’s overnight guest.
“Good morning,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Well, Velle, I have to get to work,” she said, giving Velle an awkward wave before grabbing her purse and moving out the front door.
Literally, as soon as that closed, York and Dixon’s guests also made their way downstairs. They were still in last night’s club dresses and their old makeup.
The old man looked between them, mouth falling open.
“There’s coffee and danishes in the kitchen, girls,” I told them, getting two smiles as they made their way through to get something to eat before they headed out.
“That offer for me, too? I’ve been cut off from coffee for three months.”
“Be my guest,” I offered, waving him toward the kitchen.
“Not entirely sure how to handle old men from across the street invading our clubhouse,” I admitted when he was out of earshot.
“Figure it’s probably better to just let him hang instead of being pissed at us and calling the cops each time we make noise.
What’s it hurt to let him eat some junk, drink some forbidden coffee, and look at pretty girls? ”
“Exactly,” Velle agreed. “I’d want someone to give me the same adventure at that age.”
“Find everything okay?” I asked as Velle and I followed the others toward the back of the house.
“These girls were just telling me about the party last night,” the old man said. “Sounds like it was a good time.”
“It was, Mr.…”
“Doug. Just call me Doug.”
“Doug,” Velle repeated. “We are sorry if we kept your wife up.”
“Eh,” he said, waving a hand. “She likes having something to complain about. Any chance you have some… sugar?” He asked it the same way he would ask if we had any fucking crack or meth.
“Yeah, have at it,” I said, waving to the canister on the counter. “There’s cream in the fridge too.”
“Hey,” York’s voice called from the top of the stairs when he heard the women talking. “I thought I said I wanted to wake up with some pussy to… eat,” he finished as he came into view, his gaze landing on Doug.
Doug looked between York and the girls twice.
“Well, don’t let me stop you from getting a proper breakfast,” Doug said, making a surprised snort escape me.
“What is this?” York asked, looking at me.
“Our neighbor coming to say hi,” I told him, my tone heavy on the ‘We’ll talk about it later.’
“Doug,” he introduced himself, offering a hand.
“York,” York said, shaking the man’s hand.
“So, is this what you boys do?” Doug asked, trying not to spill his coffee.
“Here, sir, let me get that for you,” one of the girls, a blonde that I was pretty sure went to bed with Dixon, said, taking the mug from his hands.
“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Doug said, standing a little straighter, then made his way to the table.
“Can I get you a danish too?” she asked, putting her hand on the old man’s shoulder.
“Think we’re seeing a twenty-year-buried sex drive resurfacing,” Velle murmured.
“Cherry would be nice.”
“Coming right up.”
“The fuck?” York asked, hanging back as both the girls fussed over a very pleased Doug.
“He was coming over to bitch about the party. Then Caymen’s girl came down, tits out, and he decided to invite himself in instead of complaining.”
“Seems like the kind of thing Huck would be okay with,” York said, shrugging. “Anything to keep the cops from sniffing around.”
These days, we tried not to keep our stash of weapons in the clubhouse. Mainly because, with our deal with Zayn (and the demands of the international arms trade), we didn’t have enough room for that shit. That said, we did still have weapons in the clubhouse we definitely shouldn’t have.
Plus, if they wanted to start staking us out and saw the plates coming in from California every few weeks, thanks to our sister chapter dropping off their supply, they could easily catch us red-handed with a lot of shit we weren’t supposed to have.
“So, you boys have company like this often?” Doug asked, wiggling his brows a bit after one of the girls bent down to grab her dropped napkin.
“Most nights of the week,” I confirmed.
“Really?” he asked, eyes bright.
“The parties are a little less often, though. So your wife—”
“Are we still talking about her?” he asked, waving a shaky hand.
“Well, she is your wife,” York said, brows scrunching.
York might have been heavy in his ‘sowing his wild oats’ phase still, but he was a stickler for respect and monogamy in relationships. I once heard him call cheating a ‘moral defect.’
“And I’ve been a good husband. But there’s nothing wrong with looking, is there?”
None of us having been married, or even in any serious relationships of note, had any thoughts on that.
Thankfully, once the girls were gone, Doug decided he had to make his way back across the street to ‘go take his pills.’
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to tell Nancy that I gave you the old what-for.”
“Knock yourself out, Doug,” I said, closing the door behind him.