Not bikers something inside me said. But why would not-bikers be doing security at a biker compound?
"Look at you all baby faced and shit," Thad said to the guard on the left who, admittedly, did look like he could pass for a high schooler despite the muscle tone that suggested much older. "And you. I bet those lashes are real."
"Are you expected?" Lashes asked, sizing both of us up, eyes landing on the parasol for long enough that I wondered if he knew there was a knife inside it. Like there was some underground knowledge about frilly things that were masking dangerous weapons. Hell, maybe there was.
A snap - clear and unexpected - made all our eyes move to behind the guards where a man who obviously was a biker was standing. The one who had been with Virgin at the bar that night. Cam, I think his name was.
"He doesn't speak," I whispered to Thad, but one of the guards looked back, eyeing me a little harder even as Cam waved us in, making the guards move apart and unlock the gates.
"That's okay, honey. I speak enough for the both of us," Thad told Cam, taking down his parasol, sticking it under his arm as he walked with Cam toward the door, leaving me to trail behind.
The closer we got, the louder the music and voices were. A party was obviously going on.
Party.
I hadn't been to a party since I was seventeen-years-old.
I had a feeling grown-up parties were a lot different from teenaged ones.
Especially grown-up biker ones.
The door pulled open and we moved into a wide space with a full bar to the right, a pool table to the left, and a sitting area toward the back and a doorway that I suspected led to the kitchen since someone in a Henchmen cut was moving out of it with a heaping pile of finger foods on his plate.
For a biker party, it wasn't exactly what I had been expecting. Which meant, I guess, there were more women around - fully clothed women - than I had anticipated. One was jabbing a pool cue into the chest of one of the bikers, her cheeks red with what I could only assume was anger. Another hopped herself backward onto the bar then jumped off on the other side, reaching up on the back bar to pour a round of straight tequila. Another still was sitting on the lap of a huge, bearded man.
There were more men than women - most in Henchmen cuts, obviously. Men who belonged here in this space. Men who walked around with the comfort and confidence of familiarity. A couple others, though, clearly didn't belong. Judging by the butt-kissing they were doing, I imagined they were trying to fit in, belong, be a part of the organization.
"Oh, be still my heart," Thad said, putting a hand to his chest as his eyes worked over all the men present. Not an ugly one in the bunch. I shouldn't have been surprised. There was never any shortage of gorgeous, dangerous men in Navesink Bank. But this was a whole other level.
"So, you're pretty," a voice said from my side, making my body jolt, finding a tall, somewhat thin blonde guy with bright brown eyes and a great beard. Not a Henchmen due to his lack of a cut. But not as unsure of himself as the other outsiders seemed to be.
"Oh, um... thank you," I said, shaking my head a little.
A sigh at my side told me I was failing at the socializing thing. "This is Freddie. I'm Thad. And you are?" Thaddeus asked, giving me a This is not hard look.
"I'm West," he told me, reaching out a hand with bright red and black tattoos over his fingers, the back, and snaking up his arm. Covered. He was covered in them. The V in his tee showed more on his chest, up his neck. And one would imagine, all down his back and stomach as well.
"This is where you shake the hand instead of inspecting it, Fred," Thad told me, elbowing me in the side.
"Sorry," I said, putting my hand in his, having to fight back a blush when he didn't shake it like I had been expecting, but slowly rose it up to his mouth, kissing the tops of my knuckles.
"Yo, fuck off," a voice cracked liked a whip in the space. A newly familiar voice. One that I had maybe thought about while alone in an apartment with a battery operated device just hours before.
My head whipped over, watching as Virgin cut through the crowd, seeming to suck up all the air as he got closer.
"Was that too vague for you?" he asked pointedly to West who was still holding my hand, but was now swinging it between us like children at a playground.