Chapter 6 Eagle #2
For his part, the shit-stain father of the bride didn’t do anything to piss me off—which isn’t saying much. His wannabe model wife clutched his arm and leaned on him so much, the poor asshole couldn’t even swivel his head to stare at Lacey.
But I could.
She stayed discreetly at the back of the chapel, tiptoeing on her heels, tapping at the earpiece, and checking the iPad periodically. She caught me staring at least a half dozen times, but each time, I looked away.
Something about Lacey opens up a part of me that I don’t like. The fact that she cut shit short last night between us has gotten under my skin more than I’d like to admit. And I don’t like the feeling. I’m the type of guy who bangs hard and leaves early. I don’t do relationships—not anymore.
And that works out fine. Most of the women who still hang around at the compound are partnered up to the members now. I miss the days when the pussy was easy and there were no such things as boundaries. But times have changed, and I’ve had to change with ’em.
Nowadays, I work events here and bounce at a couple local clubs during the week. The pay is easy, and the clubs bring in the college kids, so there is no such thing as a slow night. I know a couple of bartenders who are happy to take me home at the end of the night, and that’s been enough.
But somehow, a couple of fumbled kisses and a taste of Lacey’s pussy got me thinking harder than I’ve thought in years. I’m in my mid-forties. The club’s gone clean, which means no wild parties anymore, no cash flowing in and out. No guns, no danger, no crime.
And that means the most excitement I get is dolling up in an overpriced suit and helping Granny safely out of the golf cart.
This is so not the life I expected for myself.
I didn’t have a lot of dreams for myself growing up. Nobody I knew did. Truth is, I never expected to live to see thirty, let alone forty. Making it as long as I have? I’ve way outlived any plans I might have made for myself.
I got married too young, but that was a lifetime ago. I was a different person. Linda and I weren’t gonna do things the traditional way.
I was never a guy who had goals or made plans. I never felt worthy of either. And life didn’t do me any kind of favors, so why would I change my attitude?
“Yo.” Brute’s hand on my shoulder stops me from thinking. “What time’s this shindig over? You think there’s any chance I could knock off a little early?”
He yawns, and I notice how red his eyes are. I glare at him, hoping he’s clean and sober. No matter how tired he is, we’re on the job. But Brute’s like me. He marches to his own beat, so I wouldn’t put it past him to have snorted something to keep himself awake after working all day.
I shake my head. “You know the drill by now. Dance floor closes at eleven, and we got to have everybody out by midnight. Why, you gonna turn into a fucking pumpkin?”
Brute snorts a laugh. “Just tired as fuck, bro. I thought I could hack a day on the job and then standing around, but I need a decent meal and some coffee or shit.”
I nod. “Go to the bar. Marc’ll hook you up. We’ll get through it. But you might wanna see if one of the other guys can cover for you tomorrow. We got a lot more weekend ahead.”
He nods. “I might just, but I don’t know who the fuck’ll do it on short notice.” He yawns again. “Fuck me. I’ll ask around.”
That’s another problem with having a club that’s too settled.
Morris always used to be down for anything.
Ride or die on a moment’s notice. But our VP has kids now and runs a business of his own.
Weekends are family time. I chuckle just thinking that.
Who’d ever have thought the club would have legit businesses.
“Try Leo or maybe Arrow,” I say.
Leo’s the newest patch, but he’s got a small kid, so he’s probably not down for a Sunday gig. But Arrow and his girlfriend Annie don’t have anything tying them down.
“Arrow… I never think about that guy. I’ll try him. You got his number?”
Arrow is a former PI who did security for a while. He was working on a case for a woman who was being stalked and threatened. And when the asshole made Arrow as her bodyguard, Arrow and Annie stayed at the compound in Crow’s old room while things were hot.
Arrow’s no Disciple, but he’s good people, and he could definitely handle security at a place like this.
“Check with the boss,” I remind him, knowing there’s paperwork and shit if he decides to bring someone in to cover for him.
Brute gives me a thumbs-up and heads toward the villa, where they are setting up for a hell of a cocktail party.
I stand back and listen to the final cheers of the guests, as the new Mr. and Mrs. Warner exit the chapel to applause.
Since it’s already dark out, instead of throwing birdseed at the happy couple, they all carry little battery-powered tea lights and walk as a big group toward the villa for the cocktail hour.
It's hard not to be moved by it, all those people carrying all those small golden lights through the twilight. I wonder if that was one of Lacey’s ideas.
Even the grandmas get in on it, leading the guests in the golf cart, waving their tea light candles in the air like they are at a rave.
My cold, dead heart warms a little at that, especially since Grandma wags a finger at me in a come-hither gesture as she passes by.
After the last of the guests has left the chapel, Lacey comes out, thanks the officiant and the minister and then calls for the grounds keeper to lock up the chapel.
She flicks a look at me as she scurries toward the villa, but I look away, distracted by a small commotion coming from just outside the villa.
Lacey seems to notice it at the same time I do. We swap a quick look, just seconds before I hear a loud shout.
“Fuck you, Dylan.”
And then I hear the unmistakable sound of someone being slapped, and I take off running.