It’s a conversation starter. Most people ask questions about it because despite a popular television series, many have never actually casually run into someone who actually lives a biker lifestyle. Not long after the judgment comes the questions, and then the opinions.
Living with a group of men and women isn’t natural.
It’s impossible to make a home out of people with such loose morals.
Do you get a lot of pussy?
I bet women are just gagging to fuck you.
The first two are from the prudish women, the ones who voice their opinions despite never being asked for them. The last two are from the men who wish their lives were different and always whispered after looking around to see if anyone else is listening.
Consequently enough, the prude and the unhappy guys are usually married and claim to be happy together.
Will doesn’t open his mouth to ask a single question as he squeezes my hand harder than he has any reason to, but I understand the attempt at asserting dominance. I squeeze harder, grinning a little when the corners of his eyes crease in pain.
The man is completely out of place in this small country store. Where everyone is in jeans and flannel, he’s in an expensive suit and tie. He’s giving off seriously bad vibes, like evil is rolling off his back.
“So lunch?” the guy prods, as he pulls his hand away, fingers working to open and close his fist after losing our little strength battle.
“I’ll have to meet you. I’m going—”
“I haven’t seen you in over ten years. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”
His voice is laced with authority, slick like a snake’s tongue. There’s no way Sylvie will fall for it.
Then the woman shrugs. “If you don’t mind. It would be great to catch up.”
“It’ll be no different from all the other times I followed you around like a lost puppy,” Will says as Sylvie turns and walks toward the register like I don’t even exist.
Will shoulder checks me on his way past, and it takes more strength than I thought I had when I don’t wrap my fingers around his throat and choke him out right there in the middle of the grocery store.
“I’ll meet you outside,” he says as she places her items on the counter for purchase.
She nods at him, throwing a smile at him I’ve only ever seen that day at the care facility while she was interacting with her grandfather.
Stepping in beside her, I pull out my debit card when the cashier tells her the total, ignoring her argument as I pay for the items for the baby. I grip the handle of the bag before she can take it, walking a few feet away so the next customer can check out.
“I don’t want you going with him.”
“Good thing I’m an adult and make my own decisions.”
I hold the bag higher when she reaches for it.
“That’s childish,” she mutters on a sigh, sounding as exhausted as I feel after not sleeping well last night.
“I have a bad feeling about him,” I confess, hoping that my attempt at vulnerability will be better received than any other interaction we’ve shared recently.
“Will is an old friend. I’m not in any danger.” Her eyes meet mine. “Are you jealous?”
“What?” I hiss, annoyed that she can’t see that man the way I do.
It’s clear he’s a predator.
She uses my irritation and distraction to rip the bag of baby items from my hand.
“Don’t wait up,” she snaps as she leaves the store, and I’m forced to watch the woman I was sent to protect climb into the backseat of an expensive SUV.
Of course the guy would be chauffeured around instead of driving himself. Can’t she see how fucking weird that is?