“All right,” I replied softly. “But only if it’s okay with Teresa. And no crazy shit.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “You show me respect, I’ll show you respect and we’ll have a good time.”
I reached down and caught his hardening cock in my hand, squeezing it lightly.
“We’ll have a good time,” I agreed, hoping it was true. Worth a shot, and I was sure he could get me out of work. The club was as deeply embedded in valley life as the mine or the union—when they asked a favor, people said yes. Not out of fear. Out of respect.
That was the difference, I realized suddenly. The difference between the club I’d grown up around and this one.
Respect.
Maybe we could work this out after all . . .
“Hey Puck?”
“Yeah, Becs?”
“I’m sorry I blew up at you. It’s not an excuse, but sometimes my temper gets away from me,” I admitted.
“I’m startin’ to figure that out,” he replied. Then he kissed me and I forgot why I’d gotten upset in the first place.
WEDNESDAY MORNING
PUCK
Painter gave me a half hug, thumping my back in greeting. I stepped back, looking him over. The years had treated both of us well, although I couldn’t say the same about prison. It’d made us harder. Also made me appreciate life more. Painter had gone the other direction—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him smile, let alone laugh.
I guess there was the time we took his kid Izzy to the park?
After he landed back inside the state pen, things got worse. At least he’d been in Idaho, so I was able to go see him regularly. He’d served the club in prison and did what he had to. It changed him, though, in a way our time in California didn’t.
One thing hadn’t changed, though. The bond we’d forged in that cell together? Stronger than blood and utterly unbreakable. He was my brother, now and always.
“Good to see you,” I said lightly, as if there weren’t more than six years of history hanging heavy between us.
“Same here,” he replied. The rest of the Reapers were inside the clubhouse already, but we always took a few minutes for ourselves to check in. Went back to prison—never knew where you’d find yourself, so you had to be ready at all times.
“Anything I should know about?” I asked him. He shrugged, his face closed off. Fair enough.
“So you been to the new strip club?” he asked. “I hear that’s what we’re talking about today.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Went last week to check it out. The Callaghans sure aren’t afraid to spend money, are they?”
“We had a few girls jump ship,” he replied. “I’m not too involved, but I guess they’re coming back now. Apparently it isn’t all love and sunshine at the Vegas Belles. We put some people in place, too. Their reports back up your information.”
“Not a huge surprise,” I replied, reaching for my cigarettes. “Fuck. Forgot I quit.”
Painter snorted.
“So, I heard a rumor.”
I bit back a dumbass smile, because I knew where he was going and I felt like one of those idiots we always made fun of when they shuffled off to the visitors’ room to see their girlfriends. But hell, just thinking about Becs made me happy.
“Oh?”
“You got an old lady now?” he said. “That pretty little thing we brought up from Cali? How’d that happen?”
“I guess I just got tired of waiting.”
“Didn’t know you were waiting.”
“Wasn’t entirely sure myself,” I replied. “Now I know. Ever since that night, it’s been there.”
“If you start writing poetry about her, I’ll slit your throat myself.”
“Were you always such a dick?”
“Yes.”
“Funny, don’t remember that part. Guess I was too busy saving your ass.”
“Tell yourself whatever you have to. Let’s go inside. I want to finish this shit up and have a beer. You got any good pussy around here?”
“You never change, do you?”
“Got no reason to,” he replied.
“Probably shouldn’t give you shit about that, under the circumstances.”
“Don’t worry—I’ll get you back. Can’t wait to see your girl again. All kinds of things I should probably tell her about you. Nothing quite like honesty in a relationship.”
“You do, I’ll shoot you,” I warned him, and he grinned.
“Get in line. Mel’s got first dibs.”
—
“Thanks for the hospitality,” Picnic Hayes said, looking around the room. The Reapers’ president caught my eye, giving a brief nod. Hayes was a father and when shit went down with Becca, he’d taken my back in a big way. Since then he’d treated me like a true brother. People noticed, too. I owed him for that.
“Glad to have you here,” Boonie replied. “You know we always got your back. You want me to start?”
Picnic grunted his agreement, although we’d all known Boonie would be the first to speak. Like so many things in our world, this was a show of respect. Respect governed us and held us together, and God help the man stupid enough to misunderstand.
Fortunately, Shane McDonogh seemed to get it just fine, something that had come through loud and clear in his dealings with us.
“I’ve already shared this with Pic,” Boonie said. “But we’ve talked to McDonogh and Malloy again this morning. According to their sources, Jamie Callaghan will be visiting the Vegas Belles Gentlemen’s Club”—he said the title with a hint of mockery—“tomorrow afternoon. That’s why we called this for midweek. They don’t know how long he’ll be there, but he’s flying in at ten a.m. and plans to go straight to the club after a business lunch.”