Page 23 of Wheelie's Challenge
“Ask me when I’m showered and have a pot of black coffee in me.”
“I’ll check back with you. It’s almost noon in case you were wondering. Later.” Klutch slammed the door and his guffaws faded as he walked down the hallway.
“Asshole,” Wheelie mumbled under his breath. Normally, a biker would rather cut off his leg than let anyone ride his Harley, but when a president asked, the members turned over their keys. He threw off the sheet, opened his eyes halfway, and pushed up from the mattress, groaning with every movement. Gripping the nightstand for balance, he stood up then weaved his way over to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The cool water cascaded over him, soothing his aching muscles and calming the ever present axe jabbing at his head.
After a long shower, three aspirins, and a pair of sunglasses, Wheelie walked into the great room and plopped down at one of the tables. The scent of whiskey and beer permeated the place, and he watched swaying club girls tossing empty beer cans and bottles into large black trash bags as they tidied up the room.
Hog came over and placed a beer in front of Wheelie and his stomach soured. “I don’t want this,” he said. The prospect swiftly took it away from him. “Bring me a large mug of black coffee.” Hog tilted his head and walked toward the kitchen.
“Feeling like shit, dude?” Animal asked as he and Rags came over to the table.
“Something like that. What the fuck did I drink? It couldn’t have been Jack and beer.” He picked up the coffee Hog put in front of him and took a sip.
“Everclear—190-proof. Straight,” Rags said as he stretched his legs out.
“No wonder I feel like shit,” Wheelie said, leaning back in the chair.
“I figured you would when I saw you pounding down the shots. I assumed something was eating at you. The last time I saw you drink that shit straight like that was when your sister died.” Animal crossed his arms against his chest. “You got something you wanna talk about?”
“Was it what Banger told you after the fight with Tigger?” Rags asked.
“No way I’m getting shit-faced over a goddamn lecture and an asshole brother.” Wheelie blew into the coffee.
“Tigger took the first swing. I told Banger that when he came back out to the yard,” Animal said. “Tigger, Skeet, and Cruiser can be real jerks. They’re not as tied to thebrotherhoodas they should be. I know Tigger and Skeet got real tight in the pen, but I’m not so sure if they’re in the club for the brotherhood or for the image.” He waved Hog over, who put a bottle of beer in front of him. “I’m just not convinced they’re true brothers.”
“Me neither,” Rags replied. “Rosie fixed a damn good sandwich. I think I’ll have another one.”
“Where the fuck do you put it, dude?” Wheelie said.
Rags shrugged then waved over the club girl. “It’s my genes. My dad was a string bean and my mom’s been the same weight forever. Same with all my sisters and brothers.” He handed the empty plate to her. “Another sandwich, honey. Please.”
Rosie chuckled. “I wish I could eat without worrying about my weight.”
Rags smacked her playfully on the back side. “You don’t need to worry about shit. You look real good.” The three men watched her tight butt as she sashayed toward the kitchen.
“Now that’s a fine looking ass.” Admiration laced Animal’s voice. The two men bobbed their heads in agreement.
“You gonna give me something, sweetcakes?” Tigger’s loud voice filled the room.
“I’m making a roast beef sandwich for Rags. You want one too?” Rosie asked.
“I’m not hungry for a sandwich.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek while he squeezed one of her tits.
Wheelie cocked his head then shook it before diverting his attention away from Tigger.
“Speaking of the asshole,” Animal said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Tigger looked over at them and grinned. He squeezed one of Rosie’s buttocks. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He ambled over to the table and pointed at Wheelie. “What’s with the shades? Feeling like shit?” He chuckled as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
Wheelie just grunted and took another gulp of coffee. The aspirin had started kicking in and the explosion in his head was beginning to subside.
Tigger lifted his fist and looked down at Wheelie’s hand, and then bumped it lightly. “No hard feelings about last night. It was fuckin’ stupid of me to have started shit up with you over a chick. No bitch is worth two brothers fighting over her.” He winked at Rosie when she put the plate in front of Rags.
“Thanks, Rosie,” Rags said.
“Anytime. And after you’re done, I can provide the dessert.” She bent over and kissed him deeply on the lips. The men whistled and she giggled then walked away.
“Save some of that for me, sweetcakes,” Tigger said over his shoulder.
