When we pulled into the parking lot of the bar, the first thing I noticed were the motorcycles. All lined up in a row, they were parked close to the building. There were a couple of men leaning against the side of the building, smoking cigarettes, but they weren’t wearing leather jackets or cuts, so I assumed they weren’t a part of the club. Their eyes trailed over us as we walked toward the entrance, but that sort of thing didn’t bother me. As long as they kept their hands to themselves, they could leer all they wanted. It was usually harmless.
The inside of the bar seemed to be dimly lit, with a jukebox in the corner playing hard rock music. It wasn’t too loud, and everyone inside seemed to be able to carry on a conversation without shouting. There were pool tables and dart boards, but most of the patrons were just sitting around drinking. The bar was only about half full, but the men outnumbered the women two-to-one.
But I didn’t feel uneasy as we walked inside. Everyone around us seemed relaxed, just here to have a good time. It wasn’t the same vibe I got from the bikers at Sweet Spot a few days ago. Those guys seemed dangerous, as if menace radiated off of them in waves. The Rebel Saints weren’t like that at all, which didn’t surprise me since Smoke was one of them. I glanced around, but he wasn’t here… I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or disappointed by that.
“Come on, let’s get a drink,” Angel said, leading the way to the bar.
A large mirror hung behind the bar facing us, and I could see Angel checking herself out, but I was more focused on the bottles of liquor they had lined up on shelves. I never knew what to order. I wasn’t a fan of beer, and I didn’t drink often enough to go for shots of the hard stuff. They would have me trashed in no time, which wasn’t something I was interested in. I hated hangovers.
“What can I get you ladies?” the heavily tattooed man behind the bar asked.
Angel ordered herself a shot of tequila and a vodka with cranberry juice.
When the bartender turned to me, I bit my bottom lip in thought. “I’m not sure. Can you whip up something sweet for me? Not too strong?”
“Ah, a challenge.” He grinned. “Coming right up.”
I chatted with Angel.
He’d put together a drink that looked a pale shade of pink when he handed it over in a sugar-rimmed glass.
I hadn’t seen what was in it, but I tasted citrus and sugar with just a hint of alcohol. “This is fantastic,” I told him excitedly. If tonight went well, I would have to come here more often if the drinks were this good. “You’ve got talent.”
“I call that the Ink Special,” he replied with a wink before moving on to other customers waiting for their far-simpler drink orders.
I pivoted on my chair, sipping from the glass and licked the sugar crystals off my lips.
Angel wanted to dance, and there were a few people on the small dance floor in front of an empty stage.
I wasn’t feeling it though. Maybe I would have if there was a live band playing, but the jukebox wasn’t cutting it for me. How were we supposed to dance to hard rock, anyway? So, I sent her along enthusiastically and headed over to the dart boards. I had learned to play at a frat party years ago, but of course, that was before I met Smoke. I would have been happy to try to play a game, but it wasn’t exactly something I could do by myself, and Angel was already on the dance floor, bumping and grinding with two guys.
There were a couple of men wearing the Rebel Saints patch playing a game, and I decided to watch them.
After a few minutes, they introduced themselves to me.
“I’m Bear,” the larger man stated. He was tall, wide shouldered, with a full beard and kind eyes. “You here alone?”
I thought I detected a hint of concern in his voice, and I decided I immediately liked this guy. “I’m here with my friend.” I pointed toward Angel. “But even if I wasn’t, I could take care of myself.”
Bear chuckled. “Well, good for you, spitfire. You want to play the next game against the winner?”
“Sure.”
“You’ll be playing against me,” the other man said with a cheeky grin. “Name’s Numbers.” He held out his hand.
I shook it. “Numbers?” I asked curiously. “I’ve got to say, that’s the weirdest biker name I’ve heard. I mean, Bear makes sense.” I gestured to the large man towering beside me. “But where did you get that one?”
“I’m the accountant for our club.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “Sometimes the simplest answers…”
We made small talk as the men continued to play, and I felt completely comfortable around them. Neither of them hit on me aggressively, the way that men so often did in a seedy bar. In the end, Numbers did win, and I started to play against him. I was rusty, but Bear stuck around to give me some pointers, so I was holding my own.
The dart boards were lining the wall beside the entrance, so when the door opened halfway through our game, it immediately drew my attention. I had just thrown a dart straight into the bullseye of the board, so a big smile stretched across my face when the door opened.
Then Smoke walked in. He didn’t see me as he went past, heading toward the bar, where he started talking to a man perched on a stool.
I tried to concentrate on my game, but I couldn’t stop looking his way. Should I go talk to him? Will it be awkward?
I wasn’t sure what to do.