Page 17 of Trick
Was that petty? Absolutely. Did I feel bad about it? No, not one little bit.
I was a little annoyed at the high-handed way Trick had taken over and chewed his ass out, but I couldn’t deny that I was pleased with the end result.
We left soon after, and Uncle Bill insisted on following me home. He rolled to a stop at the curb as I pulled into my garage and waited until I got inside the house before sounding his horn and giving me a wave as he roared off down the road.
I wanted to do something more for him for taking care of my tires, so I placed an order at the bakery near the studio Thursday morning and picked it up when I finished recording late in the afternoon.
The common room was fairly crowded when I walked in, with quite a few of the MC members and a few of the club bunnies hanging around. A couple of the men called out a greeting when they saw me, and I smiled and shot them a quick wave as I made my way over to the bar where Uncle Bill sat.
He’d turned on his stool at the sound of my name, and I grinned at him as I placed the bakery box on the bar top in front of him.
“Well, this is a surprise, girlie,” he greeted me gruffly as he stood to give me a hug, then motioned for me to sit on the stool next to him.
“What’s this?” His bushy eyebrows were raised in question as he gestured to the boxes.
“It’s another little thank you gift, since you wouldn’t let me pay for the new tires.”
His face lost its customary scowl as he opened it, grinning as he saw the German chocolate cake inside.
“I hope that’s still your favorite,” I said.
He leaned over the box and inhaled deeply, then shot me a satisfied smile.
“It damn sure is, darlin’, thank you. You saved me a phone call, too. Ella wanted me to let you know she’s having a cookout a week from Saturday. It’ll be at their house, so there won’t be any damned hoochies runnin’ around with their business hangin’ out. It’s at one o’clock, if you can make it.”
“Well, with an invitation like that, how could I miss it?” I teased. “Can I bring anything?”
He was already shaking his head before I even got the offer out. “Nah, Ella loves hostin’ shit, and she’s one helluva good cook. Between her and Molly, they’ve got it covered.” He started to say something else but was interrupted by one of the men – Irish, the club’s treasurer, if I remembered correctly.
“Hey Viking,” the heavily tatted, red-haired man called out, “can I get you to look at some invoices for the garage real quick? I think the parts supplier fucked up the pricing, and I don’t want to pay them until I know they’re right.”
“Damned sons-of-bitches,” Uncle Bill grumbled half under his breath. “I’ll be right back, girlie.”
He stood up and took a step, then turned back and all but growled at the young man working behind the bar.
“Prospect, keep an eye on my niece…and my cake” he added as an afterthought. “If any one of these assholes tries to touch either one of ‘em, tell him I’ll rip off his dick and feed it to the neighbor’s dog.”
I bit my lip to hide my snicker as he stomped off across the room and followed Irish down the hall.
The prospect, Rod, leaned over the bar and flashed me a grin. “We don’t have any neighbors, but I’ll take his threat seriously anyway. Now, what can I get you to drink?
I shook my head. “I don’t need anything, but thank you.”
He nodded, then turned back to his task of stocking the cooler behind the bar with what seemed to be an endless supply of beer bottles.
I pulled out my phone, intending to check my email.
“I’m surprised the old man left you here alone.”
I turned my head to see Trick sliding onto the stool Uncle Bill had just vacated. He gestured for Rod to hand him a beer, then asked what I wanted to drink.
“Nothing, thanks.”
He shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting under his leather cut, then reached for the small cake box. Before he could open it, I shook my head.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. That cake’s for my uncle, and he doesn’t like to share. I believe he mentioned something about feeding your dick to the neighbor’s dog if you touched it.”
Trick winced, then shook his head in mock sorrow. “Now that would be a damned shame, darlin’, for more than one reason.”
