Page 17

Story: Kingpin

“Are you being the world’s biggest asshole because your painkillers wore off, or because of a blistering hangover from hell?”

I huffed and turned away.

“Both.”

“Baby Doll was right, you know,” Big G called after me as I shoved the kitchen door open. “Blue balls are making you bitchy.”

“Fuck off,” I shot back.

He chuckled, unfazed by my barbs.

“She’s going to be so pleased that you keep proving her right every time you open your mouth and that charming personality slips out.”

“Bite me,” I grumbled.

“You’re not my type.” Big G tangled his fingers into Roxie’s bottle-blonde hair. “You, on the other hand, are exactly my type. Keep going, sweetheart. You were on a roll. Don’t stop now.”

She shifted in his lap to fully straddle him, unbuckling his belt. When Big G slipped his hand under her shirt, I didn’t need to see any more. I’d been around bikers nearly all my life. Theyweren’t shy, and I was far from a prude. I didn’t give a shit if they fucked right in front of me.

But I missed having that closeness and raw intimacy with my woman. If I wanted sex, I could find my own club bunny. And if I wanted another relationship, I could start dating again.

None of that would fix the gaping hole in my chest where Hattie used to be though. Sex with anyone else would be empty, simply going through the motions. Like eating cardboard instead of a three course meal.

In the blessed solitude of the kitchen, I sighed and poured a cup of bitter, black coffee. Closing my eyes, I sipped at the piping hot brew and leaned back against the counter. As usual, Big G kept me in line, called out my bullshit. I was being a dick, biting people’s heads off.

Seeing Hattie had rattled me more than I wanted to admit. But that was no excuse. As the President of this club, my brothers looked up to me, relied on me to keep my cool, even when everything went sour. I should be able to manage a visit from my ex-wife without going to fucking pieces.

Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I tapped the screen, navigating to my contacts list. Hattie was still at the top. For over a decade of marriage, and another decade of divorce, that had never changed. Blackbeard, my Vice President, occupied the second slot, which was only natural since he was my second in command.

My thumb hovered over the delete button. My chest hurt at the thought.

I should have done it a long time ago already. When Hattie handed me the divorce papers to sign. When she packed up and shipped out to Seattle. When she stopped returning my calls. When we hadn’t talked for years.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. The caffeine wasn’t doing much to stave off my headache.

Without giving myself any more time to think about it, I jabbed the delete button and tossed my phone on the counter in disgust. Maybe it was long overdue. But it still made me sick to my stomach.

The rev of a bike echoed outside, signaling someone’s arrival. Taking my coffee, I returned to the main room just as Baby Doll wedged the front door open with her foot. She juggled multiple bags of takeout from the Cattle Yard Diner.

“Breakfast has arrived, gentlemen,” she said. “Is everyone decent?”

“Depends on your definition,” I replied. “Most of us are clothed, at least. Can’t speak for Big G and Roxie though. Haven’t seen Spike yet either.”

As if on cue, Roxie let out a peal of laughter as Big G stripped off her tank top and buried his face between her tits.

Baby Doll deposited the bags of food on the bar and began unpacking them. Most of us couldn’t cook anything more than a bowl of cereal or a box of instant macaroni and cheese.

Except for Tex and Blackbeard. Cooking was a time-honored tradition among their big families, passed down with pride from one generation to the next. Cooking for the club was a massive amount of work though, with ten members and any number of club bunnies as guests.

So we resorted to takeout most of the time.

The smell of greasy sausages made my stomach churn. I inhaled a steadying breath and turned my head away.

Baby Doll pulled open a drawer beneath the bar and grabbed a rubber band. She stretched it taut and sent it zinging across the room, hitting Big G in the back of the head with an audiblethwack.

“What the—?” he hissed, twisting around in his seat.

“Take it somewhere else, you two,” Baby Doll said firmly. “People are trying to eat.”