Chapter 38
MERRICK
Marietta and I finish out our week at the clubhouse. It’s a busy one. I take my turn on the patrols watching the private road, and others check to make sure Lucifer’s Kin have truly abandoned their club. Not that there’s much left to salvage.
But they’re gone. Some post bail and join the Kin in far north Florida, near Jacksonville. Others rot in cells, awaiting trials, most of them with priors.
At church on Sunday, Iron Jack announces that Marietta will no longer be a house mouse and that we would help move her to my place.
Chain slaps the table. “I figured he had it for that piece of spaghetti. Good luck keeping her top on in the bar.”
This makes everyone roar with laughter, but that’s all right. I’m on board with whatever exhibitionism Marietta wants to cook up.
Iron Jack waits for everyone to quiet down.
“I know it’s tradition for a prospect to be with a club for closer to a year before we bring him to a vote, but Merrick has more than proved his loyalty to the Wild Hair in two raids.
And he hasn’t thrown one of your sorry asses out of his bar, which might have been harder to pull off. ”
Another roar.
I sit up at that. Iron Jack hadn’t mentioned they would move up my vote. I glance over at Adam in the opposite corner. He nods with the others.
“So, let’s hear it,” Iron Jack says. “All in favor of Prospect Merrick patching in as a full member, say, ‘Aye.’”
The chorus of “Aye” is so loud that it reverberates off the walls.
“All opposed, say ‘Nay.’”
Nobody opposes.
Iron Jack slams his fist on the table. “Then Merrick is an official member of the Wild Hair, Miami.” He bellows toward the door, “Bring the patch!”
The door opens, and Marietta arrives with the bit of red in her hand, pleased as punch to be the one to get to do it. She’s toned down in a bulky gray sweater and jeans, her dark hair a riot of curls on top of her head.
But she still gets a chorus of whistles and comments as she rounds the table. “Merrick,” she says, passing me the patch. “I will sew this on for you later.” She straddles me on the chair, draping her arms over my shoulders. “You gonna teach me how to ride?”
This gets the room going all over again.
“You bet I am.”
“Well, go on,” Iron Jack says. “Daylight’s wasting. Show your woman how to ride.”
I stand up with her wrapped around me, then slide her around to sit behind me, piggy-back style. She lets out a whoop, and I carry her out to more wolf-whistles.
We pass Betz in the hall, holding a tray of shots. Behind her, Christina and Jami both lug orange juice and fruit. Looks like they’ll be the new house mouse crew.
“You two are ridiculous,” Betz says. “Like little kids.”
“I’m gonna miss you,” Marietta says. “I’m glad you got more help, though.”
Betz rolls her eyes and moves on to the meeting room.
Christina grins at us. Jami balances the tray on one hand to smooth her hair, which is recolored to bright purple. She’s in full makeup already, which I’m guessing means she is hoping to catch Adam’s eye. I caught them talking in the kitchen last night.
Marietta must notice, too, because as soon as we reach the kitchen, she leans close to my ear and says, “I think Jami and Adam are up to things.”
I squeeze her thighs where I hold her in place. “What kind of things, Miss Marietta? Things like this?” I whip her back around and set her on the counter by the sink to drag her face to mine.
We linger on the kiss for a while, sunshine blasting through the kitchen windows, the sound of another roar of laughter drifting down the hall from the meeting room.
“Or this,” she says, taking my hands and sliding them up the inside of her sweater to cup her breasts.
I’m about to one up her on that one when Betz and the others return to the kitchen.
“Aw, shit, they’re at it again,” she says. “Get out of here, you fuck bunnies.” But nobody misses the laugh in her voice.
I pull Marietta off the counter. “Come on,” I tell her. “It’s a great day for your first ride. You ready to learn?”
“You bet I am.”
I take her hand and lead her out of the kitchen and through the living room. Celia and Carol coo over the baby on the sofa while the other kids assemble an oversized puzzle on the floor.
This is what a motorcycle club looks like, I think. Women and kids and love affairs. It can be hard, patrols and protection and raids and defending from encroachment. But mostly, it’s this, community and family and protection.
We step outside, and I fish in my pocket for the patch Marietta brought me. Soon it will be time to give her one, too, if she’ll have me.
But for now, I pass her a helmet and watch her throw a long leg over my bike.
Time to teach my lady to ride.