CHAPTER 12
STORM
“Get your ass up” cuts through the fog in my brain. “Damn it, Storm, you can’t sleep until noon.”
“What the fuck time is it?” I say once I realize it’s Dimples, not the hang-around I’d shared my bed with last night. I glance at the empty pillow next to me. “Where’d Nancy go?”
“Naomi. Her fucking name is Naomi.” The irritation in Dimples’ voice makes me take notice. Last night’s meeting must still be eating at her.
“Jesus. Chill the fuck out.” I plant my feet on the mattress and push myself into a sitting position against the headboard. “The fuck. I need water. My tongue’s stuck to my teeth.”
“Bullshit. You’re talking.”
“Still. I need some water.”
She thrusts a bottle into my hands. “Drink up. Then you’re getting your ass out of bed.”
“What’s the rush?”
“You and I are gonna take a ride over to Lake Placid, and then you’re gonna buy me lunch.”
I yawn. “What the fuck for?”
“I got the itinerary from the Steel Graces, so I wanna talk about it.”
“Now? We have all week.” She doesn’t mention last night, which I’m sure is her real reason for yanking me out of bed.
Dimples picks up my jeans and underwear from the floor and throws them at me. “Get dressed.”
“The fuck. You’re bossy this morning. You never said what time it is.”
“A little after ten.”
“Are you kidding me?” I glare at her and run my hand through my hair. Big mistake. It’s a tangled mess. “You said it was almost noon.”
“No, I didn’t.” She puts her hand on her hip. “I said you couldn’t sleep until noon.”
I groan but decide not to argue. “Where’s…” Shit. I’ve forgotten her name already, so I point at the pillow next to me. “Uh…”
“Naomi. Naomi, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, where is she?”
“I sent her home.”
“Just like that? You sent her home. What if I was looking forward to a little morning sex?”
“Tough.” Dimples picks up my shirt and bra off the floor and tosses them on my bed.
“Don’t I get a shower?” I push the covers off.
“Classy.” Dimples points at my sock-covered feet. “I’m sure Naomi found you sexy.”
“What? My feet were cold.” I slip into my underwear and then shimmy into my jeans while still lying in bed. “You never answered whether I can shower first.”
“No, you’re practically dressed now.”
She’s right. I’d just fastened my bra and was shaking out my T-shirt. I grab a handful of hair. “What about this?”
“Your helmet will cover it.”
“What if I don’t want to wear one?” I don’t, but the law around Lake Placid won’t give us a pass.
“Then put on a baseball cap.” Dimples grabs a Harley cap off my dresser and throws it onto my bed.
With whatever bug crawled up Dimples’ ass, I’m not gonna win, so I roll out of bed. “Can I at least pee?”
“If you get a move on.” She walks toward the door.
“What if I have to take a shit?”
“Do it fast,” she says before she exits.
The fuck. I’m the president. Doesn’t matter with Dimples, especially when she’s like this. I know better than to argue with her.
When did I lose control?
I smile. I never had control. Not with Dimples. She just lets me pretend I do and plays the game in front of the other girls.
It doesn’t take long to make myself presentable. When I head downstairs, I don’t look like I’ve been on a three-week bender.
I’m surprised to see so many girls gathered in the bar. Most look rougher than I do. Air mattresses litter the floor with some of the girls still asleep on them, and empty beer bottles are strewn across the tables. The prospects will be busy today.
Scanning the room, I see no sign of Dimples. Worry runs through me. I know the bullshit with Frost is taking a toll on her. She craves peace and harmony, and there’s not much I can do but reassure her. It’s one reason I agreed to go today. A long ride, just the two of us, might do us both good.
Prospect One, Jazmin, is behind the bar, serving up drinks, so I head in that direction, but I stop along the way. The girls need to see me mingling, not hiding from Frost’s bullshit.
When I arrive at the table where Rouge and Halo are sitting with several girls, I point at their drinks. “How’s the prospect’s Bloody Mary skills?”
Rouge puts her fingers against her lips. “Chef’s kiss. Just the right amount of heat.”
“Just right?” Halo waves her hand in front of her mouth. “I’m breathing fire over here.”
I know they’re all watching me, gauging my mood, so I make a show of picking up a glass from the table and taking a gulp.
My eyes widen as the heat hits my mouth, but at least they don’t water. “Whoa. I gotta get one of these.”
“You can have it.” Diesel, one of our old-timers, pushes her drink toward me.
I push it back. “Nope. That’s yours.” I grin. “I think I’ll ask her to pour me a little more heat.” I don’t mean it because my mouth is still burning, but I know it will play well with the girls.
“Hell yeah!” Rouge lifts her drink and elbows Halo. “Grow a pair of ovaries and stop drinking straight tomato juice.”
I laugh. “I’ll leave you girls to it. Do you know where Dimples is?”
Rouge shakes her head, and her brow furrows. “She came downstairs, walked toward the bar, then shot out of here like something bit her in the ass. Haven’t seen her since.”
The fuck. “She’s making me ride with her today, so I better get my drink before she comes back.”
Making my way to the bar, I exchange words with other groups. With each stop, I feel the tension in the room lessen.
“Hey, Prospect,” I say, putting an edge in my voice. “Why have you been hiding things from me?”
The prospect’s eyes widen, and her face turns ashen.
Jesus. Sometimes I forget how heavy my title is, especially to a prospect. I smile. “You never mentioned that you make a mean Bloody Mary. How long you been here—nine, ten months—and I’m just finding out?”
The prospect blinks and then grins as the color returns to her face. “It’s my secret weapon. Tryin’ to score a few points with the patches.”
“Well, hit me with one. And make it good.”
“Yes, President.” She grabs a glass and pours from a large pitcher. “I’ll start you with my base mix. Then we can add more heat if you’d like.”
I consider telling her to put in more, but the burning still in my mouth stops me. Before taking a drink, I stir it with the skewer sticking out of the glass. “Damn, this is good. Your base is perfect.”
“Thanks,” she says with a sheepish smile.
I haven’t spent as much time with the prospects, which needs to change.
“Excited for the ride next weekend?” I ask.
Her eyes light up. “Yes, President. It’s been a long winter.”
“You know it.” I run a hand through my unruly hair. “Goddamn it. I can’t do a thing with this wiry shit.”
The prospect smiles and grabs a handful of locs that fall past her shoulder. “These come with their own issues.”
“Maybe we should all get buzz cuts. New MC policy.” I twist my face into an expression of horror, so she knows I’m teasing.
“As a prospect, ain’t I supposed to say, where’s the clippers?”
I like this prospect. She’s got spunk. “I’ll give you a pass.” I lift my Bloody Mary. “Especially when you make drinks like this.”
She wipes her brow. “Whew. That was close.”
“So how’re you liking the club?”
“I like it a lot.”
There’s something behind her eyes I can’t read. “Why do I sense you have more to say?”
Her intelligent brown eyes measure me. Prospects aren’t always comfortable being honest, especially with officers, for fear of saying something that’ll derail their chances of getting their patch.
“Don’t censor yourself,” I add. “I don’t judge when someone’s honest with me.”
She purses her lips and nods. “This club ain’t like any other I’ve been around.” She looks away and runs a damp cloth over the bar. “Most clubs aren’t this…uh, diverse. I mean, clubs are usually segregated.”
“You’re right, but the Iron Thorns don’t follow those rules. Separating by race is a carryover from men’s clubs. We don’t play those games.”
“It was Aces’ doing, wasn’t it?”
“You know your history.” I pound my fist against my chest. “Aces was the best. She was a Navy vet, and some of her best friends in the service were different races. She said she’d never belong to a club that wouldn’t welcome women who’d die for her.”
“I wish I would’ve had the chance to know her. I’m Army.”
“She would’ve liked you.”
A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and her eyes glisten. “Wow. I ain’t sure how to respond to that honor.”
“And you’re smart. Some wouldn’t have caught what an honor it is.”
“It ain’t no secret, at least to me, what high regards you have for Aces.”
I give her a sad smile. “She was the best. Taken from us too soon. Cancer fucking sucks.”
We continue talking as the girls keep coming for more Bloody Marys. I encourage them to slow down, or we’ll be leaving the mattresses out another night. I like the vibe in the club, probably because Frost isn’t here.
When I hear my name, I turn. Dimples is calling from across the clubhouse, so I motion for her to join me.
“We gotta get going,” Dimples yells over the music and the girls talking.
I wave my arm in a bigger arc. “Get your ass over here. I gotta finish this.” I hold up my drink.
Before Dimples can respond, I turn back to the bar and catch the prospect staring across the room. A thoughtful expression etches her face.
What the hell did Dimples say to get that reaction from the prospect? I glance over my shoulder to assess the situation, and I’m surprised by the pained expression on Dimples’ face.
The fuck. Now what happened? Is Frost at it again? I turn back to the bar. “Hey, Prospect, pour Dimples a Bloody Mary.”
“She doesn’t like her drinks spicy. I think she’d prefer a mimosa.”
“Damn, you’re right.”
The prospect’s face falls. Prospects aren’t supposed to contradict a full-patch member. It’s even worse doing it to the president.
I hold up my hand. “Hey, it’s all right. I like that you spoke up.” I wave my hand between us. “You didn’t publicly call me out. It’s just you and me, so I’m good with it.”
She gives me a sheepish smile, and then her eyes light up.
I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“We need to get going,” Dimples says from behind me.
“She’s about to fix you a mimosa.” I look over my shoulder and meet Dimples’ eyes. “She reminded me you don’t like spicy drinks.”
Dimples’ eyes narrow, and she looks at the prospect. “Pour me a Bloody Mary.”
“Yes, Captain.” The prospect pours the drink and pushes it across the bar to Dimples.
Dimples pushes it back. “Give it some more heat.”
I give Dimples a side-eye. What the hell is up with her this morning? Frost calling her soft on prospects doesn’t mean she has to act like a jerk.
The prospect stares at her for a beat before she nods and grabs hot sauce. When Dimples bends to tie her boot, the prospect shakes the bottle over Dimples’ drink, but she’s not removed the lid.
I smirk at the prospect, and her eyes grow big. I motion for the drink. Once she gives it to me, she picks up her rag and moves away as she wipes down the bar.