Chapter Seven: A Night Out
Harper
I wasn’t sure if I believed Bones when he said his club’s activities weren’t criminal. Wasn’t that a part of the lifestyle? Regardless, I intended to go with my gut instinct and it told me to trust what Bones said. I didn’t get a dangerous vibe from him. Or any of the men here, really.
I hadn’t planned to hang out at the bar. I just came to talk to Bones about the security job and intended to leave afterward, whether he said yes or not. But when I’d taken a seat beside him, the bartender had asked for my drink order. I’d blurted out the first one that came to mind, so I had to stick around to drink it. Leaving without doing so would be rude.
The drink seemed a little stronger than what I would usually drink, but it tasted delicious, so it wasn’t long before my glass was empty, and I’d gone ahead and ordered another. Why not?
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had real fun. I spent so much time working that this was long overdue. Besides, I was already in a bar, spending time with a man I had no business being attracted to.
“Come on, guys,” one of the club members called out the bar at large. “Don’t be a bunch of sore losers.” He stood next to one of the pool tables, a cue stick in his hand.
“I’ll play,” I said, starting to get off the barstool.
Bones reached out and stopped me with a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to do that. Trust me, Chalk is basically unbeatable.”
“His nickname is Chalk?” I repeated, eyeballing the man. He was clean shaven, very well-built tall guy with blond hair. I found it fascinating how all the club members seemed to go by nicknames. While sipping my first drink I’d met men named Gunner, Bear, and Coyote.
“Yeah, playing pool is literally what he does.”
“I’ll play a game with him.”
“Hustling is something else he does.”
Maybe it was the alcohol– I didn’t usually drink much and I was already almost done with my second drink– but as I looked in his eyes and saw the concern there, it made me want to do something stupid, like kiss him. Instead, I reached up and pinched his cheek, laughing at the surprised look on his face.
“Don’t worry so much,” I told him. “It’s just a game.” I did feel a little light-headed, but I ignored it as I picked a pool stick off the wall. It immediately became clear to me that Bones was right… Chalk was amazing. He broke the balls, sinking two of them on the first turn and then getting one right after the other until he had already knocked in half his balls before I got a turn. I hadn’t played in years and even then, I wasn’t very good. It had been a good thing we didn’t put money on the line because I lost spectacularly.
But I had fun. Chalk was a total show-off, doing trick shots and sinking the ball with his eyes literally closed. Some people might find it obnoxious, but I thought it was funny. We ended up playing a second game, and this time, Chalk gave me a few tips and tricks, things to improve my game. I still lost, but I managed to get three of my balls in that second time.
I could feel Bones’s eyes on me as I played, and I couldn’t seem to help myself as I bent a little lower over the pool table than necessary while lining up my shots. Once, I even unnecessarily shifted my hips from side to side. I got a thrill from knowing he was watching me, like I was playing with fire.
By the time we were done playing, and Chalk informed me he had actually taken it easy on me during both games, I felt ready for another drink. When I returned to the bar, Bones already had one waiting for me.
I grinned, about to thank him, but the man with very short hair I hadn’t met yet, sitting on his other side nudged his arm with a smirk on his face. “Look at you, being so thoughtful,” the man said. “You’d think she was your old lady or something.”
“His what?” I interrupted. I didn’t like the sound of it, but it did fit in with the reputation motorcycle clubs had of being disrespectful of women.
“No, it’s not like that,” Bones said, correctly reading my mood. “Old ladies are honored at the club.”
“Seriously?” I asked incredulously. I was pretty sure he was messing with me.
“Trust me. A woman is considered an Old Lady if the club member she’s with is committed to her and even more importantly, she’s devoted to him. We care about our brothers enough to give that woman respect.”
I knew I stared at him doubtfully, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
He chuckled as he tipped back his drink, taking a big gulp from a can of soda.
I was mildly surprised to see he wasn’t drinking beer anymore.
“It’s not just that,” the man with very short hair said. “You should see how devoted some of these men are. I wouldn’t disrespect anyone’s Old Lady because I wouldn’t want to get my ass kicked. I’m Smoke, by the way.” He nodded my way, lifting his hand in a brief greeting.
“Harper,” I replied, shooting him a smile.
Then Bones leaned forward on the bar, blocking my view of the man. “The point is,” Bones continued, “Old Lady is not an offensive term.”
“You’re a real mystery,” I said, starting my third drink. I had the vague notion this should probably be my last, but I was feeling so relaxed and comfortable, even in this unfamiliar environment. I also felt bold, like the filter between my brain and mouth had been removed.