Nolan: Return to Signal Bend (Signal Bend)(8)

“Iris. You need to be careful. You need to see what’s ahead of you on the road.”

She wasn’t very good at that—in driving or in life. “I know, Daddy. I’ll do better.”

He hooked his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head. “I know you will. I’m going to the clubhouse after supper. Come by later, and I’ll put him on the rack and see what you did.”



oOo



It was later than she’d even planned by the time she got to the clubhouse. After supper and cleaning up, she’d showered and changed and redone her face and hair.

She didn’t like to go to the clubhouse unless she looked decent. Unlike her sister, she hadn’t gotten many of the good family genes. Rose had their dad’s tallness and their mom’s fair coloring. She was long and slim and naturally pale blonde, with eyes that swirled green and blue, and she’d even worked as a model in college.

Iris, on the other hand, had their mom’s shortness and tendency toward what their mom called ‘womanliness’ but was just plain old fat, and their dad’s more average coloring. Her natural hair color was his average shade of light brown, and her eyes were his average shade of light blue. So she colored her hair, changing that with her mood, she perfected the ‘smoky eye,’ she worked out and watched what she ate, and she didn’t go to a clubhouse full of bikers without making the most of what she had.

Like her boobs. She’d gotten her mom’s great boobs. Rose, at least, had missed out on that. Iris had been on the tall side, too, when she was little, but then she’d started to get boobs early, and she’d basically stopped growing vertically. Rose had kept growing up, like a tree—tall and flat.

As usual in the winter, there were more trucks on the lot than bikes, but when she saw the old Harley Ironhead at the end of the short row of bikes, Iris took an extra minute, turned down the visor to check the mirror, and made sure that she looked as good as she could. That old bike was Nolan’s.

She really liked Nolan. A lot. He’d never noticed her, except as a fellow club kid, and she wasn’t about to ever throw herself at him, but she wanted to look as good as possible, on the off chance that he might take a look.

She undid another button on her fitted flannel shirt, better to show the little brown beater under it, which swept low, letting the lace edge of her black bra just barely peek out. She took a quick sniff of her wrists and, satisfied that she had just the right amount of scent on, got out of her truck.

As she walked in, she tried to think of herself as beautiful. She’d read that somewhere—if you thought you were beautiful, other people would, too. Today, she thought she’d made a good effort. Her good-ass jeans and her favorite boots, and the leather jacket Shannon and her dad had given her last Christmas.

It was a weeknight, so it wasn’t as wild inside as it could get. As she scanned the main room, which the Horde called the Hall, Iris saw members and club girls and a few hangarounds. The club wasn’t currently recruiting and didn’t have any prospects. People were just hanging out—drinking, playing pool, making out.

She didn’t see her dad or any of the older members she’d always called ‘uncles.’ The younger guys waved when they saw her and called out a ‘hey,’ but otherwise, she was left alone. That was disappointing, actually. She liked coming in and being greeted with a bunch of bear hugs.

But Nolan was there. He was at the bar, talking to one of the hangarounds—a guy she didn’t know. She knew he was a hangaround because he wasn’t wearing a kutte. Members always wore their kuttes in the clubhouse. It was a rule.

Standing up a little straighter, putting her best assets a little more out front, she walked over to the bar. “Hey, Nolan.”

He put on a big, warm smile. As was often the case, she had the impression that he was putting on the smile. It wasn’t that it looked fake or insincere. It was more like smiling wasn’t on his menu of common expressions. It always made Iris feel a little sad, even when he was laughing.

“Hey, Iris!” Catching her arm, he pulled her close and kissed her cheek. He was sitting on the barstool, but she was short enough that he still had to lean down a little bit. “When’d you get to town?”

“Yesterday.” She took her jacket off and hung it on the back of the stool next to his.

As she climbed up and sat, Nolan said, “Get Iris a beer, Mug.”

It wasn’t until she had a bottle of Budweiser in front of her that she understood that Nolan hadn’t asked for a beer mug. Mug was the guy’s name, apparently. “Thanks.”

“Now get lost.”

At Nolan’s command, Mug nodded and got lost.

“Congratulations on graduating. That’s cool.” He lifted his own bottle, and she knocked hers with his.

“Thanks. Took long enough, but I got it done.” Feeling nervous, she took a long drink and set her bottle down. There was a Christmas doodad on the bar—a plastic headband with a springy pole sticking up from it. A little plastic sprig of mistletoe dangled from the top. Iris rolled her eyes. One of the club girls must have left it behind.

“That’s a big deal. Did you do the whole big walk in a Hogwarts robe and all that?”

She laughed. “Nah. My school only does a ceremony in May. I could go back to Indiana and walk then, but I don’t see the point. I got what I wanted out of college.”