Page 48 of Jagger
Church was just a run-of-the-mill meeting today, with a general update on the businesses for the week. King mentioned that the missing street rat from K-Dog’s crew still hadn’t been spotted and reminded everyone to keep their eyes open for him.
We wrapped up the meeting with a complaint from Trick that a couple of the bunnies were behind on getting their monthly STI check. Part of his job as Sgt. At Arms was making sure everyone, including the bunnies, complied with club rules. Monthly testing was a requirement of all club bunnies, as was proof of either an IUD, or the birth control shot or implant. Brothers were required to get tested quarterly if they used the bunnies’ services. We were also required to wrap up when fucking them, although the rule didn’t cover blow jobs, so most of us didn’t use rubbers then, even though we probably should. Those rules had been put into place long before I ever patched into the club, after over a dozen brothers and bunnies had ended up with chlamydia. That shit made my stomach turn just thinking about it, and I was happy as hell that I didn’t have to worry about it at all now that I had Molly.
“Which ones haven’t tested this month?” King asked with a frown.
“Misty and Diamond. They were due yesterday. Both claim they just didn’t have time to get to the clinic, but I don’t know if that’s true, or if they’re avoiding it for some reason. I gave them until Tuesday to get them to me, but in the meantime, they’re out of service,” Trick grumbled, shooting a pointed look at Lucky. Shit, I was pretty sure I’d seen Misty riding Lucky’s cock on the couch at the clubhouse last night. Judging by the disgusted look on his face, I was right.
“You heard the man. Misty and Diamond are on the no-touch list until Tuesday, just to be safe. As always, you’re free to socialize with them, but no sex of any kind until Trick gets the all-clear on their tests.”
There were a few scattered groans and grumbles at King’s announcement, but nobody had the balls to question him outright.
After church was dismissed, the men of our family, including Cowboy, had a habit of gathering in the main clubroom to have lunch together. Sinner always came, although he usually skipped church since he’d officially retired, unless something big was being discussed. We’d given our order to one of the prospects before we’d headed into church, and he walked in a few minutes later with the Mexican food from the place down the street. Since Ace had chosen to join us today – he didn’t bother half the time – the seven of us settled down at one of the big tables in the corner. As we devoured the food in front of us, King told us that Christy had been hounding him for money again, which he’d refused to give her.
“Doesn’t surprise me, I’ve been dodging calls from her all week, and I made Abby block her number last month when Christy kept bugging her.” Rome admitted, adding hot sauce to his taco.
“I haven’t heard from her since she hit me up last Saturday night,” I said.
“What the fuck does that lazy cunt – sorry, boys – need all this money for, and why the fuck is she calling you for it, son?” Sinner asked in disgust. Rome and I just brushed aside his apology. He was right, she was a lazy cunt. She’d stopped being our mother long ago, so it didn’t bother either of us one goddamned bit that he’d called her that.
“Hell if I know. I didn’t understand her when we were married, and I sure as fuck don’t know what’s up with her now. I’ve told her that her days of making me feel like I owe her for getting her pregnant were over long ago.”
The subject turned to K-Dog and his missing drug runner. King filled Sinner in on it, stopping only when Ace rolled his eyes and smirked.
“You got something to say,brother?” King asked, and the emphasis on the word wasn’t missed by anyone. It was no secret that Ace and King didn’t get along. Ace had a chip on his shoulder to start with and had picked up some pretty shitty ideas during his various stints in prison. He was a racist, homophobic asshole who didn’t care who got fucked over in his quest to get ahead. He had no loyalty to anyone but himself, as far as I could tell. He also thought King was being a pussy for refusing to run guns, drugs, and women, and had been livid when Sinner had invited Joker to prospect twenty years ago. Joker was the first Black member, and I’d heard the story that Sinner had punched Ace and broken his nose when he’d heard Ace make a smart-ass remark about the club sticking to “its own kind”. Ace had really lost his shit when Saint and Skid were patched in shortly after King took over the club. Saint was from the Dominican Republic originally, and Skid’s family had moved here from Mexico when he was a baby. King had offered to let Ace turn in his cut with no penalty if he had such a problem with an integrated club, which had only served to piss Ace off even more. It was too fucking bad that it hadn’t pissed him off enough for him to actually walk away from the club.
Ace had made no secret of the fact that if he got voted in next term, he’d be taking the club in a more profitable – and much more dangerous and illegal – direction. I suspected he also planned to try to bring the club back to being an all-white MC. Luckily, he didn’t have the support needed to come close to sitting in the President’s chair. Only a couple of the less active members held his bigoted views, and very few of the brothers were willing to risk their lives, or their freedom, for more money. The club did very well, which meant all the members did very well. The underground fight ring and protection work we provided for the Rossi’s was as far over the legal line as most of us were willing to go.
“Nope,” Ace bit out, taking a swig of his beer and glaring at King over the lip of the bottle.
“You sure about that?” Cowboy asked pointedly. He didn’t get along with Ace any better than the rest of us and didn’t even bother trying to pretend half the time. If Ace was pissed that he wasn’t voted in as President when Sinner retired, then he was fucking livid that he’d been passed over for VP in favor of Cowboy.
“Just said no, didn’t I?” Ace slammed his now-empty beer bottle down on the table and stood up. “Lucky, I’ll need your ass down at the club tomorrow night. Bodhi’s off, so I’ll need somebody to watch over things.”
Before Lucky could object, King spoke up. “Lucky will be working late at the shop trying to finish a bike for a client who offered a fat bonus if it can be finished ahead of schedule. He’s not available.”
King and Ace stared each other down for several long moments before Ace sneered, “Sure thingPrez. Anything you say.”
We all watched in varying degrees of irritation as Ace stomped out of the clubhouse. After a few moments, Sinner spoke up and said what the rest of us were thinking. “Somebody really should kick that cocky little shit’s ass.” While the rest of us laughed, King and Cowboy shared a hard look that I couldn’t quite figure out. I knew it wouldn’t do any good to ask, so I didn’t bother.
Rome and I had a quick workout in the club’s weight room, before heading over to his house. We spent the rest of the day there, painting the nursery a color that Abby had insisted was Frosted Rose, whatever the fuck that was supposed to be. It looked like plain old pink to me, especially when I was trying to scrub it out of my goddamned hair later that night, thanks to Rome. That fuckin’ prick had “accidentally” splattered that shit all over me as he’d rolled a section of the wall near where I was crouched down trimming along the baseboard. We’d managed to get the crib together with less cursing than I figured we would, mainly because Ethan was helping us, and we all tried to clean up our language at least a little bit when he was around.
The next week flew by, with Molly and I only getting to see each other once, although we talked and texted several times a day. I was covering evenings at the bar since Hawk ended up with a couple of bruised ribs after one of the underground fights – tough bastard still won that night though. It was hard to switch out a keg or haul around cases of beer from the cooler when you could hardly breathe without hurting, so he was off for at least a week recuperating.
On Thursday night I was able to get Trick to cover for me. I picked Molly up and took her back to my place, making sure she knew to pack an overnight bag to bring with her. We grabbed carryout on the way, which we had to warm up later since I pounced on her as soon as we walked through the door. I ended up with her bent over the couch, and I was sure I’d never be able to sit on the damned thing again without remembering how sexy she’d looked with her ass up in the air as I fucked her good and hard.
After cleaning up, we ate on the couch, and then I gave Molly the grand tour of my three-bedroom house. One bedroom was used as an office, and the other had some weight equipment in it that I used when I didn’t feel like going to the weight room at the clubhouse or to our MMA gym for a workout. Molly looked around the house with interest, and really liked my kitchen, which was much bigger than hers.
“Oh my gosh, you have a double oven!” she exclaimed, looking far more excited about it than I thought an appliance deserved.
“Yeah, it came with the house,” I said, rubbing my hand over my stubble as I tried to figure out what the big deal was. “I don’t think I’ve ever had them both on at the same time. I’m not much of a cook unless it comes in a frozen package or a can.”
“Ugh, what a waste. I would kill for a double oven, and all this counter space is fantastic.”
“So does that mean you cook, Angel?” At her nod, I gave her a huge smile. “Not to be a caveman or anything, but the idea that my woman can cook is pretty damned sweet. I’ll make you a deal, you cook, and I’ll clean up. Hell, I’ll go to the grocery, rub your feet, and do your laundry if you’ll just cook for me sometimes. I get so fucking tired of eating out, and Rome gets pissy if I show up at his place for dinner too often.”
Molly chuckled at that, and promised to make me dinner sometime soon, which led me to kiss her senseless in the middle of the kitchen.
I surprised her with several of my T-shirts for her to sleep in, making sure I’d picked out the softest ones I had. The sight of her in one of my old MC shirts – with our club logo plastered across her luscious tits – inspired round two for the night, this time in my bed. Round three happened early the next morning, right after Molly hit the snooze alarm on her phone.
