Losing Me, Finding You(7)

Old Lady Gingersnap is slowly reaching for her purse, no doubt getting ready to spritz me in the face, and there's some skinny chick in a wedding gown gazing at me with watery eyes and trembling lips. I snatch a pen from the jar on the counter and scribble down the name of the bar that's across the street from my hotel.

“You can find me here if you still want to buy the bike.” I move towards Amy slowly, trying my best not to spook her family. They're all staring at me like I'm a ghost or some shit, watching me with guarded expressions and twitching fingers. I hate to say it, but these ladies need to get out more. If they think I'm scary, they should meet Beck; he'd really put their panties in a wad.

Amy takes the brochure from me with a steady hand and finds my eyes with hers, drawing me into that face, those lips, that pale, pretty skin. Shit, damn, and f*ck, this girl has got me hooked hard. I let my fingers graze hers and can't help the smile that crawls across my mouth when she shivers.

“Bike?” the Mama is asking in a high, shrill voice that tells me I've really worn out my welcome. I tip my imaginary hat again, toss Amy a wink and hightail it out of there before I get the cops or the clergy called on my ass.

Mireya doesn't look happy.

“What the f*ck was that about?” she asks, swinging her dark hair over one shoulder and pinching her red, red lips so tight that the skin on her face puckers. I shrug my shoulders since I really don't know the answer to that question.

“We never discussed where to meet.”

“That's not what I meant.”

I pause at the edge of the sidewalk and glance up at the sun. Shit, it's hot down here.

“I know.”

Mireya and I keep walking, but she quickly outpaces me and disappears into the cool darkness of the hotel lobby with no indication that she wants me to follow her this time. I haven't even had a drink with the girl yet and already, Mireya Sawyer is not a fan of Amy Cross. I rub my hand along the stubble on my jaw and wonder if I should shave.

“Hey *,” Gaine says from behind me. I don't turn around to look at him, instead keeping my gaze on the growing crowd and the lines of blistering metal that hold my heart in a tighter bind than any girl ever could. There are a lot of MCs here, colors flying, scoping out one another's bikes, along with a whole horde of rubberneckers and gawkers trying to figure out what we're all about. The folks in the leather know how to keep their distance, but the rest of the people, the ones in khaki and sweaters that don't make a lick of damn sense in the hot sun, those are the ones that keep touching and poking their hands where they don't belong. “I saw you go into that dress place down the block. You and Mireya have something goin' on you want to tell me about?”

“Yeah, right,” I laugh as Gaine steps up beside me and tucks his hands in his pockets. “Can you imagine Mireya in a white dress with a bunch of flowers in her hair?”

“Only in the same breath that I imagine the world collapsing in on itself,” he says, and he isn't kidding, just stating fact. Mireya is more at home in a leather jacket with her hair whipping in the wind and a custom chopper tucked between her sweet thighs than she'd ever be as somebody's wife. Even the thought makes me chuckle.

“Fucking Christ,” I say as I peel my sweaty shirt away from my chest and wonder if all the time I've been spending up North is screwing with my natural resistance to the heat. I used to live for weather like this. I glance over at Gaine and am happy to see that he looks at least as hot as I do, sweat dripping between his thick brows and down the pinched bridge of his nose. He runs a hand through his dark hair, adjusts his leather vest like he can't wait to take the damn thing off.

“What were you doing then?” he asks me as we both lean against the brick walls of the hotel and Gaine puts a cigarette into his mouth. He offers me one, but I turn it down. “You got a sex change operation coming up that I should know about?” I snort, but I don't answer him right away. I could just tell him I was chasing after a girl. That, Gaine could understand, but oddly enough, that's not exactly how I feel. I don't just want to know more about that girl, I need to. I want to take her to bed and make her mine and then the next morning, I want to do it all over again. Usually, I like to just get up and go.

“Just trying to sort out a thought,” I say, and it's Gaine's turn to snort at me.

“In a dress store?”

“Bridal shop.”

“What the f*ck ever. How do you even know that?”

I sigh and reach out my hand for a cigarette. Gaine hands it to me along with his lighter. My mother used to own a bridal shop, but I don't tell him that. He probably wouldn't give a shit anyhow.

“I was looking for a girl.”

“Seems like a strange place to do it,” he scoffs, shaking his head and tossing his cigarette butt to the sidewalk. “Ain't a bridal shop for girls that are already attached?” Gaine pauses like he's just thought of something, crinkling up his forehead and squinting his brown eyes. “Hey, maybe you're onto something there. If they're already getting hitched, then no attachments, no worries, right?”

“Don't be a f*cking *,” I tell him as I suck in a slow drag of smoke and sweaty Southern air. Gaine likes to act like a tough motherf*cker, but in truth, I don't think I've ever seen him take a girl up to his room or anywhere else for that matter. Sometimes I see him gazing off into the distance like he's waiting for someone, but I never ask about it. Some stuff is best just left well enough alone. “I asked her for drinks earlier but didn't specify the place.”