Page 5 of Alice & Meg: Summer Vacation (Fallen Lords MC & Devil’s Knights MC Crossover)

Alice

The morning sun was already heating up the sidewalk as Wrecker and I strolled hand in hand toward the lobby. My purple flip-flops made a soft slap-slap sound with each step, and my white cutoff shorts rode a little higher than they probably should’ve. My black T-shirt with the Highland cow in sunglasses lounging in an inner tube read “Moo-d for Summer.”

It was a vibe. A bold, weird vibe. And I was living for it.

Wrecker, on the other hand, looked like he was heading into a bar fight and not a breakfast buffet. Jeans, white T-shirt, his heavy motorcycle boots, and of course, his cut.

“Aren’t you going to be hot?”

I asked, eyeing the thick leather.

He huffed. “No.”

I squeezed his hand.

“I know this is what you wear back home, but you tend to leave the cut off when it’s stinking hot. I’m going to have to spritz you with water.”

He opened the door to the lobby and muttered, “Yeah, not going to fucking happen, babe.”

I brushed past him with a wink.

“We’ll see about that.”

As soon as we stepped inside, Wrecker grumbled again.

“It’s still shocking, all the goddamn pink in this place.”

We passed the reception desk, and I had to admit, even after being here for a night, the Flamingo Inn’s commitment to the theme was borderline aggressive. Every shade of pink known to mankind covered some surface. The lobby gave way to the breakfast room, where the buffet stretched along the left wall, and tables filled the rest of the space.

There were heaping trays of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage links, pancakes, French toast sticks, a DIY waffle maker with whipped cream and fruit toppings, hash browns, fried potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, a cereal bar, pastries, muffins, bagels, a vat of yogurt, granola, and, weirdly, a pan of baked beans and toasted bread slices.

I tilted my head at that.

The rest of the room was just as pink as the lobby. Pale pink walls, flamingo statues perched in the corners, and canvas prints of palm trees and flamingos wearing sunglasses. The tables were a delicate blush pink, while the chairs looked like someone had taken neon highlighters to plastic.

“They could stand to pick one shade of pink,”

I said as we got in line.

“Agreed,”

Wrecker muttered and rubbed the back of his neck.

“But hey,”

I shrugged, “you gotta respect the commitment.”

We loaded our plates with a little bit of most everything. Wrecker went for bacon, eggs, hash browns, and a small mountain of sausage. I took a little bit of everything, including the weird baked beans and toast setup.

“Seriously?”

Wrecker asked as he watched me shovel a spoonful of beans onto the toast.

“Don’t judge. It looks... interesting.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a word for it.”

We made our way to the tables where the rest of the crew had claimed three pushed together in the corner by the window.

Meg waved me over. She had her hair in a messy bun and was working on her second waffle.

I slid into the seat next to her while Wrecker took the one across from me.

Meg glanced at my plate and gasped.

“Oh, you took it.”

I blinked at her.

“Took what?”

She pointed dramatically at my plate.

“The beans on toast. We all saw it. Nobody was brave enough.”

I picked it up like it was some ancient relic.

“Well, here goes nothing.”

I took a bite.

And... huh.

“This is actually good.”

Meg stared.

“You’re lying.”

I took another bite.

“Nope. Kinda savory, kinda weird, but in a comforting ‘grandma made this’ sort of way.”

Wrecker shook his head and stabbed his hash browns.

“You’ve officially been in Wisconsin too long. I’ve never seen that before.”

“I’m expanding my culinary horizons,”

I said primly.

“Honey, that is not something we eat in Wisconsin. That is from all the way across the pond,”

Meg laughed.

Raven slid into the seat across from Meg and clutched a coffee like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

“What the hell are we doing today? Please say it’s not hiking or something that takes, well, much effort.”

Meg dabbed syrup off her chin.

“We thought we’d walk the strip, hit some of the shops, maybe go to the candy store.”

Cyn leaned in from the other table.

“I want to go to that store I saw all of the weird hats in the window when we drove by.”

“I want to go to the shop that had a sign they sell hot sauces with names that sound illegal,”

Adley chimed in.

Greta, who was sitting between Bear and Wendy, lifted her head.

“I want to do the Wild West photos.”

Bear groaned.

“I am not dressing up like a saloon guy.”

“I wasn’t going to make you a saloon guy,”

Greta said innocently.

“What then?”

Bear grunted.

She smiled sweetly.

“Assless chaps.”

Bear choked on his coffee.

Wendy snorted.

“Please let this happen.”

“Why?”

Bear coughed. Rigid slapped him on the back with a huge grin on his face.

“Because we all need memories, and that one would live in infamy,”

Raven said, absolutely deadpan.

“I’ll do it,”

Hero offered from the next table.

“I got the ass for it.”

Reva leaned over.

“I can confirm that.”

Wrecker tossed his napkin on the table.

“I am too sober for this conversation.”

“More coffee then,”

I offered and nudged my mug his way.

Meg leaned back in her chair and stretched.

“Okay, finish up and let’s head out before it gets too hot for Hero and Bear to get in the assless chaps.”

“I don’t think any of us want to see that,”

Rigid muttered.

Greta hooted and slapped the table.

“Well, we are going to find out, baby.”

She was far too excited for this.

We finished our breakfast with a lot more laughter, a couple of strange looks from other guests, and Greta trying to Google if there were any stores in town that actually sold assless chaps.

Typical morning with this crazy crew.

And it was only .