Ride Steady (Chaos #3)(38)

That was when his eyes moved around my head and then he turned, leaning further into the bar, saying to Joker, “Like your girl, Joke. Pretty. Sweet. Wild hair means wild side.” He looked back to me. “We bikers like it wild.”

I fought against the pink I felt creeping into my cheeks as Joker said to Pete, “Don’t be an *.”

“I think that’s seventy-five cents,” Tabby put in.

Big Petey ignored that and asked Joker, “How’m I bein’ an *?”

“You know,” Joker clipped, looked to me, jerked up his chin, ignored everyone else, and prowled along the bar and right out the door.

I thought that was rude.

Looking around, I saw none of my company felt the same way. They all clearly thought it was amusing.

I took heart in that (although I was a little concerned—if bikers liked it wild, that was not me) and announced, “I have to get to work. It was really cool meeting you all.”

“Give me your number,” Tab said. “Maybe you and your little guy and me can go have lunch some time or something.”

I loved that idea!

“Great!” I chirped.

We exchanged numbers. We all exchanged goodbyes. Pete and I made a date of when to meet again with Travis. And I took off.

I scanned the massive expanse of tarmac outside the Compound, looking for Joker.

He was nowhere to be seen.

This unsettled me, because really, I should give some thought to why he seemed to want to avoid me at the same time he seemed to be interested in me.

But now was not that time. I had to get to work.

So I got in my car and headed to LeLane’s, thinking that I could roll that question around in my head for ages but I’d never get an answer. The only one who had that answer was Joker.

Maybe I’d ask him. Maybe bikers liked honesty and straight talk.

And driving to LeLane’s, that’s what I decided.

At the party, I’d ask Joker what was the deal.

And hopefully, after we got whatever it was straightened out, he’d ask me on a date.

Thinking this thought meant I walked into LeLane’s smiling.

* * *

The next day, while I was in my bathroom getting ready for work, my phone rang.

I looked to it, saw it was Tabby, so I answered it.

“Hey, Tabby.”

“Hey, babe. How’s tricks?”

“They’re good, I think.”

She laughed.

I smiled at the phone.

She quit laughing and said, “Listen, every girl needs to know what she’s getting into on a night out. And since I’m guessin’ you’ve never been to a biker party, I thought I’d call and give you the skinny.”

That was nice.

It was also surprising. I’d never had anyone do that for me.

Of course, when I’d had friends and we went out, we’d always dressed to the nines, hit swank bars, and drank martinis or the like, so I knew what I was getting into.

And in that moment, it occurred to me that I’d never thought that was much fun.

I liked the dressing up part, but I’d never liked martinis. I always made a face when I’d take a sip because I didn’t think they tasted good. And I wasn’t a big drinker so one would have me tipsy in a way that wasn’t fun. It was more like I just wanted to go home, get into comfy clothes, and stretch out in front of the TV.

Further, the goal for the evening was mostly my girlfriends picking up guys or them saying catty things about every other woman at the bar. Since I had a guy (then), I was odd man out on the first part. And I’d never liked the second part. It was mean.

This made me feel unsettled because all of a sudden, it made me wonder why I went out with them at all when I’d never really had any fun.

I’d long since wondered why I’d had the friends I had, all the way back to high school, when I didn’t feel I fit in with them, but especially when they dumped me after Aaron did.

Even though I’d wondered, I’d also not come to any conclusions.

“So,” Tabby continued, taking my mind off these things, “first of all, biker bitches aren’t big on lots of clothes and by that I mean they show skin. But you dress however you’re comfortable. Casual, though. You might feel weird if you show up all dolled up.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“And since Ty-Ty and Lanie are home with their kids, so the only folks you’ll know are some of the boys, who might be otherwise engaged, and me, I’ll text you when Shy and I get there so you’ll know you have someone to hang with.”

Again, super nice.

“Thanks, Tabby.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “Also, kinda anything goes and privacy is sometimes not an issue. Just so you know.”

“Uh… what?” I asked in confusion.

“Makin’ out, bein’ loud, groping, smokin’ pot, you name it, it could happen,” she explained. “You’re not into something, the family is what it is because everyone in it wants the freedom to be just that, so no one will push anything on you. But you should know.”

That was nice too. A little frightening, I wasn’t big on marijuana (though I’d never tried it; still, I didn’t intend to). But it was still nice.

So I again said, “Thanks,” to Tabby.