Page 7 of Tinsel & Chrome

I stuff a big bite of biscuit in my mouth and swing my legs under the table, watching all the big guys try to pretend they ain’t waiting for presents.

Uncle Mad Dog keeps sneaking bacon off people’s plates like nobody sees him. Bishop watches everyone like he’s got a secret. Logan looks too cool to be excited, but I know he is.

“Bay,”

Daddy says from behind me. His voice is all deep and serious, but I can tell he’s smiling.

“That’s your third biscuit.”

I grin up at him, cheeks full. “Maybe.”

He shakes his head, ruffles my hair, and sets a cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows in front of me. My favorite.

The clubhouse smells like Christmas, cinnamon, and bike grease, and I feel warm all over.

Emma

I run as fast as I can, my little boots thumping against the floor, past the tables, past Uncle Grizzly, straight to the biggest, best Christmas tree ever. It’s so tall, almost to the ceiling, and covered in twinkly lights and shiny things. And underneath? Presents. So many presents!

I stop real fast and put my hands on my hips.

“Can we open ’em now?”

Daddy scoops me up before I can dive headfirst into the pile. He laughs, all big and rumbly, like he always does.

“Not yet, little bit.”

I huff, crossing my arms. Grown-ups always say wait.

Then I hear a loud vroom-vroom outside.

I gasp and whip my head around. That’s a motorcycle! But not just any motorcycle—Santa’s motorcycle!

“Santa’s here!”

I scream, kicking my feet until Daddy puts me down. Then I run.

I hear all the other kids yelling too, and we race out the clubhouse door just as Santa pulls up on a big, shiny bike covered in lights and candy canes and everything Christmas-y.

He’s so big, with a red vest and a Santa hat, and he waves at us with a big laugh, all deep and jolly.

I grab ’s arm, bouncing up and down.

“I knew Santa had a motorcycle!”

nods real serious, like she always knew too. Santa parks the bike, swings his big boots over, and grabs his big red bag full of presents.

“Ho, ho, ho!”

he booms, and I squeal because he’s real, he’s real, he’s real!

Christmas is really here.

And So it Begins

Grizzly

Jingle Blaze is in full swing, and the kids own the day. We’ve moved to the main clubhouse. It’s bigger and we need the room. The clubhouse lot is a damn carnival: mini bikes roaring, kids running wild, and grown men getting hustled at carnival games by their own children.

I lean against my bike, watching the chaos unfold, sipping my coffee, because whiskey this early means I won’t survive the night. It’s time for the mini bike race. I head over to the small track we put together.

Boone stands in the middle of the dirt track, arms crossed, ready to oversee the chaos.

“Alright, y’all know the rules. No crashing, no fighting, and no crying if you lose.”

First up: the younger girls. Daisy, Boone’s wild child. , Forge’s precocious child. Emma, Big John’s little one riding a hot pink bike with matching streamers. And my baby girl Wynn.

revs her bike hard, eyes gleaming.

“I’m gonna win.”

Daisy smirks.

“Not if I beat you first.”

Boone raises the flag.

“Ready... set... GO!”

The mini bikes take off.

Daisy pulls ahead, but is right on her tail, determined as hell.

Wynn keeps steady, pushing her bike to its limits, while Emma laughs like this is the best thing ever, streamers flying behind her. Daisy and go neck and neck, kicking up dirt. But at the last second, cuts the corner tighter and pulls ahead, taking the win.

She throws both fists in the air, grinning.

“Told y’all!”

Daisy scowls, but her eyes are full of respect.

“Yeah, yeah. Next time, I’m taking you down.”

Boone ruffles ’s hair.

“Damn good race, kid.”

After the younger girls finish celebrating and talking smack, the boys get ready. Logan, Titan’s boy. Eli, Bishop’s kid. Jesse, Mad Dog’s youngest, but perhaps the most determined today. , because she won the girl’s race and dared the boys to let her. And my two boys Walker, and Wade.

Boone raises a brow at her.

“You sure you wanna run with the boys, kid?”

lifts her chin.

“They better keep up.”

Boone barks out a laugh and waves the flag.

“Alright, no cheap shots. First one to the barrel and back wins.”

The mini bikes launch forward, kicking up a storm of dirt. Logan takes an early lead, but Walker and Wade aren’t far behind. Eli keeps a steady pace, smart enough not to burn out too soon. leans forward, gripping the handles tight, pushing to stay in the pack. She edges past Jesse, grinning when he growls in frustration.

Jesse, the smallest, bounces in his seat, trying to squeeze every ounce of speed from his bike. They hit the turnaround. Logan still ahead, Walker pushing hard, Wade gaining on both. cuts in sharp, overtaking Eli, determined to beat at least one of the boys.

Then, Jesse swerves too fast, nearly tipping over, and Wade, instead of passing him up, sticks a boot out to steady him. Jesse grits his teeth and keeps going, but it costs Wade a few seconds. Logan and Walker hit the finish first, neck-and-neck, but Logan barely edges him out. crosses right after Eli, both barely behind Wade.

Boone nods in approval.

“Damn good race. Logan, you took it, but Wade, that was real brother shit back there.”

Jesse looks up at Wade, eyes full of admiration, and Wade just shrugs.

“Next time, I’m leaving you in the dust.”

slaps the dust off her jeans, panting, but grinning.

Eli eyes her.

“You did better than I thought.”

smirks.

“Better luck next time, boys.”

Next we move on to the Outlaw Games. The kids love it! The “Santa’s Most Wanted”

carnival booth is run by Big John, who’s got Emma perched on his shoulders, pointing out targets with chubby fingers.

“Shoot the bad guy, Daddy!”

she orders.

He pretends to squint at the target. A paper cutout of a rival MC’s logo.

“Which one?”

She points again, deadly serious.

“All of ’em.”

Big John chuckles and lets her pull the trigger on the pop-gun, sending the target spinning down. Emma throws her arms up like she just won a world championship.

Bishop’s boy, Eli, is hustling the older kids at darts, hitting the bullseye every time like he was born for it.

“You ever miss?”

Titan asks, watching Eli sink another perfect shot.

Eli shrugs, grinning.

“Not today.”

As the day winds down, the kids shift to other sports.They arm themselves with water balloons and squirt guns, and the MC doesn’t stand a chance. Wynn and ambush Mad Dog, hitting him square in the chest with a water balloon.

He looks down at his soaked cut, then back at them.

“Oh, y’all just signed your death warrant.”

Before they can run, Mad Dog grabs a bucket of ice water and drenches them both. screams and runs straight for Forge.

“Daddy, Mad Dog’s cheating!”

Forge, arms crossed, deadpans.

“So? Cheat back.”

narrows her eyes, grabs another water balloon, and takes off for revenge. The war rages for a solid hour before the club calls a truce.

As the sun dips lower, the grill fires up, and the MC takes over the food like it’s a damn competition. Titan and Boone are manning the pits, flipping ribs, steaks, and gator sausage like pros. The kids pile their plates with barbecue, mac and cheese, and cornbread, then run off to eat on the clubhouse steps.

Wynn and Daisy sit shoulder to shoulder, shoving bites of food in their mouths, already talking about the next mini bike race. and Jesse are still dripping from the water fight, but too hungry to care. I sit back, watching them. This is why we do this.

The kids don’t have to worry about the club’s business. They don’t need to know what we do when the sun goes down. For today, they’re just kids, living free, laughing loud, and making memories.

After dinner, the herd of sugar-high children make their way to Forge’s place. barks orders like she’s in charge.

“Jammies first, movie second, nobody hogs the pillows!”

Emma nods seriously, clutching Jingle the stuffed reindeer.

“And no boys on the girls’ side.”

Walker and Logan groan but don’t argue. The living room turns into a war zone of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. Titan and I stand in the doorway, watching as they all pile onto the couches and floor.

Mad Dog snorts.

“This is a hostage situation. Ain’t no way Forge makes it through the night.”

Forge shakes his head, stepping inside and shutting the door with a finality that says ‘I’m too old for this shit.’

Jingle Blaze isn’t just about the party. It’s about this. The kids being safe, being happy, and knowing they’ll always have a family.

Adulting

Grizzly

The second the last kid crashes at Forge’s place, the real party begins. The music gets louder, the whiskey starts flowing, and the sweet butts disappear—only to return looking like goddamn snacks. I take a slow sip of my drink, leaning back against the bar, watching as they weave their way through the crowd, all long legs, short skirts, and knowing smirks.

Jingle Blaze might’ve started for the kids, but the second they’re tucked in for the night, it turns into something else entirely. The sweetbutts move through the clubhouse like they own the place, laughter mixing with the low rumble of conversation.

One of them, Roxy, a redhead with curves that could bring a man to his knees, straddles Titan’s lap, running a painted nail down his chest.

“You finally done playin’ Daddy for the night?”

she teases.

Titan just grunts, throwing back a shot before grabbing her hips.

“Depends. You done playin’ games?”

She grins and leans in, whispering something in his ear that makes his jaw tick. Across the room, Savannah, a blonde with legs for days, drapes herself over Boone’s shoulders, pressing a bottle of whiskey to his lips.

“Drink up, Road Captain,”

she purrs.

“You look like you need to loosen up.”

Boone grins against the bottle, taking a long swig before pulling her into his lap. The pool table has turned into a makeshift bar, lined with empty shot glasses, beer bottles, and a questionable amount of cigars.

Mad Dog is at the center of a drinking game, slamming back shots while two sweetbutts take turns feeding him cherries from their drinks. Bishop, ever the watchful one, nurses a glass of bourbon, watching the chaos unfold with a knowing smirk.

And me? I’m taking it all in. Enjoying the show. The music shifts, something with a heavy bassline, the kind that gets inside you, makes a man think about all the bad decisions he’s about to make. The girls take that as their cue. Dancing, grinding, laughing, and teasing just enough to drive the brothers crazy.

Savannah locks eyes with me from across the room, her lips curling into a wicked little smile. I lift my drink in a lazy toast, but I don’t move. Not yet. Savannah doesn’t like to be ignored. She tosses her hair over one shoulder, gives me a look that says get over here, then turns back to the group of sweetbutts, laughing like she ain’t got a care in the world.

I smirk into my drink, letting the burn of whiskey settle before setting the glass down with a slow, deliberate motion. The air is thick with smoke and sex, the scent of vanilla and cheap perfume mixing with the ever-present smell of leather and motor oil. Jingle Blaze after dark is exactly what it’s supposed to be—wild, reckless, indulgent.

Titan and Boone have already disappeared with their chosen entertainment for the night. Mad Dog is still at the pool table, letting one of the girls straddle him as she lines up a shot. Bishop, true to form, just watches, eyes sharp, always aware.

I push off the bar, cutting through the crowd, ignoring the hands that graze my arm, the whispers meant to catch my attention. My eyes are locked on one thing. Savannah. She sees me coming, and instead of waiting, she makes me work for it.

I watch as she sashays toward the makeshift dance floor, hips swaying, knowing full well I’m right behind her. The music pulses, heavy and slow, and she moves like she was born for this. She runs a hand through her hair, dragging her nails lightly down her own throat, eyes locked onto mine like she’s daring me to do something about it.

I stop a few inches away, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. She tilts her chin up, looking at me through thick lashes.

“You gonna stand there all night, Grizz?”

she teases, voice low, sultry.

I take my time answering, letting my gaze drag over her from head to toe. She’s all legs, a tight little dress that barely qualifies as one, and a smug smirk that says she thinks she’s in control here.

I reach out, catching her wrist, tugging her flush against me. She gasps, but her hands settle on my chest, fingers trailing down over my cut.

“I was just enjoyin’ the show,” I murmur.

Her lips part, but before she can say another word, I spin her in place, pressing her back against me. One hand settles on her hip, the other sliding up her side, fingertips grazing the curve of her ribs. She leans into me, her breath hot against my neck as she rolls her body against mine, slow and teasing. I let her have her fun. For now.

Savannah thinks she’s running the game. She’s about to find out she’s got no idea who she’s playing with. She rolls her body against mine again. I grab the back of her head and crash my lips down on hers. She moans and leans against me as I devour her mouth. My cock’s standing at attention, pressing against my zipper.

As the kiss continues one of Savannah’s hands trails down my chest to crotch. She grabs my bulge and gives it a squeeze. I moan into the kiss. She massages my rock hard cock through my pants. Fuck! That’s hot.

Savannah breaks the kiss and slides down onto her knees. She looks up at me, giving me a wink, before reaching for the button of my jeans. Seconds later, she has my jeans undone and my cock out. She gives my shaft a few strokes before swirling her tongue around the head of my cock like a lollipop. I groan and grab the back of her head. Her lips are like velvet on the hot head of my cock. I groan as she sucks on the head before sliding my length down her throat.

Oh fuck! My eyes roll back in my head as she deepthroats me. One hand on my thigh to steady herself in those impossibly high heels, and the other hand massages my balls. Fuck this girl has a mouth like a damn Hoover.

“Damn, Sav. You’re a fucking Goddess. Suck my dick like you mean it.”

And she does. She has my eyes rolling back in my head again. My hands are in her hair, holding the back of her head as I fuck her mouth. Her moans mingle with my own. But we’re not the only ones. I glance around the room. Forge has Roxy bent over the pool table. He’s balls deep in her ass, pounding so hard you can hear the slaps. Big John is fucking her throat. She’s moaning and bucking her hips like a wildcat.

Fuck yeah. I like a good show and my brothers don’t care who’s watching when they’re fucking a sweet butt.

Treasure Hunt

Wynn

Daisy kicks me in the ribs right around sunrise. Not hard. Just enough to wake me up and remind me she wins even in her sleep. I sit up slowly, rubbing my side and glaring at her. She’s snoring again already, mouth wide open and drooling like she didn’t just throw a knee into my side. Typical. Forge’s living room is a battlefield. Blankets everywhere, tangled limbs, candy canes stuck to the couch, and hanging halfway off the armrest with one sock missing and a glittery bow stuck in her hair.

I look around at the chaos and whisper, “Let’s go find the Secret Santa Box.”

That gets Daisy’s eyes open real fast.

Logan groans from the floor.

“It’s just junk.”

“Still ours,”

I say, already pulling on my boots.

flips over and lands on her feet like a cat.

“I call shovel.”

Ten minutes later, we’re outside behind Forge’s garage. It’s cold and damp, but that doesn’t stop us. We’ve got one shovel, two spoons, and no idea what we’re doing, but we’re doing it anyway.

Emma is on lookout. She holds her sticker-covered walkie-talkie with both hands and nods like she’s on a secret mission.

“If you see anyone,”

I tell her, “scream gator.”

“Gator,”

she repeats seriously. She’s five, but she gets it.

Daisy points toward the crooked metal grill near the firepit.

“Grizzly said it was under there once when he was drunk.”

That’s good enough for us. and Jesse start digging while Wade directs like he’s the boss of something. Logan rolls his eyes and uses one of the spoons.

Nobody complains.

We hit metal, and everything goes quiet.

Walker clears the rest of the dirt off the top with his hands.

“It’s here.”

We all crowd around while Jesse pops the latch. The lid creaks like in the movies.

Inside is:

A tiny MC patch that says “Property of No One”

A broken ring

A bottle of half-used hot sauce

A one-eyed teddy bear

A photo of the older guys in Santa hats flipping off the camera

And a folded note

I reach for it, heart thumping a little. My fingers are cold, but the paper feels warm.

To the Little Few—don’t ever forget who you are.

Nobody says anything. Even Logan shuts up. I fold it carefully and tuck it into my hoodie pocket.

“We gotta leave something behind.”

We dig through our stuff. Jesse offers a bent key. gives up her favorite bottle cap after five minutes of arguing with herself. Daisy ties her newest friendship bracelet around the bear’s neck. Emma sticks one of her pink gator stickers inside the lid.

We close it up, set it back in the hole, and bury it again like it’s a sacred thing. I pat the dirt down and stand.

“One day, our kids’ll dig this up,” I say.

looks at me like she’s really thinking about that.

“Guess we better not suck then.”

I nod once.

“Yeah. Guess we better not.”

I brush the dirt off my hands and glance over my shoulder toward the house. The sun’s coming up now, painting everything gold and pink, like the world knows we just did something important.

The others are already heading inside, arguing over who gets the last pancake if there are any left. says she’s calling dibs on syrup and a biscuit, but I’m not listening. I feel eyes on me.

I turn and spot him leaning against the back porch—Daddy. Grizzly. Big, silent, and already holding a mug of coffee like it’s the only thing keeping him from yelling at the sun.

He doesn’t say anything. Just lifts his chin and gives me that look. The one that says he saw everything, even if he didn’t move a muscle. Like he always does.

I smile and give him a little wave. He raises his mug in return. And that’s it. That’s all I need.

I turn and run back to the house, heart full, the note still safe in my pocket.

We won’t forget who we are. Not ever.

Totally Worth It

Forge

The first thing I register is the pounding in my skull. Second’s the scent of stale whiskey, charred meat, and someone’s cheap-ass perfume clinging to my shirt. Third? The fact that I woke up on the damn couch in my own living room, one boot still on, and a stuffed reindeer wedged under my back.

I shove it aside, muttering under my breath.

“Damn deer’s got it out for me.”

Voices drift in from the kitchen—kids. The little hellions are already up, loud and laughing like they didn’t spend all day yesterday running around like feral gators.

I sit up slowly, every joint in my body protesting, and glance around. Blankets and sleeping bags are everywhere. ’s purple stuffed octopus hangs from the ceiling fan like someone tried to sacrifice it. One of the Hayes boys is curled up in an armchair with a half-eaten cookie still in his hand.

I drag myself into the kitchen to find Titan, Boone, and Grizzly all in various states of regret. Boone’s got on sunglasses inside, nursing a bottle of water like it’s holy. Titan’s leaning over the counter, shirtless and cursing softly as he scrolls through his phone. Grizzly looks the same as he always does—half-asleep, mildly pissed off, and unmoved by the chaos around him.

’s at the table, hair a mess, face sticky with syrup, and laughing her head off with Daisy and Wynn about something I’m not awake enough to process. Logan walks in with a blanket wrapped around him like a cape and a look on his face that says he’s reconsidering this whole “cool biker kid”

lifestyle.

I reach for the coffee pot like a man on a mission, pouring a full cup and taking a long sip before I speak.

“Y’all ever think maybe we’re gettin’ too old for this shit?”

Boone snorts.

“I think that every year.”

“Then why the hell do we keep doin’ it?”

Titan asks, still scrolling, still cursing.

I look out the back window. The backyard’s a wreck—beer cans in the grass, lawn chairs knocked over, a trail of tinsel leading to the firepit. And right in the middle of it all, half-buried in the dirt, is a pink gator sticker.

My mouth quirks.

“’Cause it’s worth it.”

Grizzly grunts his agreement, and I know he saw Wynn earlier. He doesn’t say much, but I can see it in the way he’s watching her now—calm, protective, proud.

Jingle Blaze may have started as a desperation move years ago, but it’s a damn tradition now. For the kids. For us. For the club.

I lean back against the counter, sip my coffee, and smile at the mess we’ve made.

We’re outlaws. We fight. We bleed. We bury more than we ever should.

But this? This is why we keep goin’.

Because in the middle of the chaos, there’s laughter. And syrup. And gator stickers.

And that’s enough to keep any man moving forward.

Grizzly

The house is finally quiet. No screaming. No sugar-crazed maniacs riding mini bikes through the yard. No wet socks in the sink or gator stickers on the toilet seat. Just the low hum of the box fan in the corner and the occasional creak of the old floorboards under my boots.

I should be passed out like the others, but sleep doesn’t come easy anymore. Not when the fire starts burning in my chest, that familiar mix of gratitude and guilt. Jingle Blaze always does that to me.

I step out onto the porch, coffee in one hand, and lean against the railing. The sun’s barely peeking over the treetops, casting the whole neighborhood in a golden haze. The air smells like charcoal and pine and the faint scent of last night’s fireworks, still hanging on.

My kids are inside, sleeping hard—tangled in blankets, probably with sticky hands and dirty feet. Wynn had a smear of dirt on her cheek when she came in this morning, eyes lit up like the goddamn sun.

I didn’t ask what she was doing. I already knew. The Secret Santa Box. I buried that damn thing myself the year after Sarah left. Wade was still in diapers. Wynn had just started walking. And Walker... hell, he didn’t understand why Mama wasn’t coming back, just knew she wasn’t.

So I made them a treasure. Something to look forward to. Something that would feel like theirs when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

Over the years, other kids found it. Added their own junk, their own stories. And now my little girl’s out there digging it up with the next generation, making memories wrapped in dirt and mystery and outlaw magic.

I take a long sip of my coffee, eyes stinging more than I want to admit.

Wynn’s got that fire in her. She’s stubborn like me, wild like her mama used to be. She doesn’t let the world tell her who she is. None of my kids do. Walker’s coming into his own; quiet, thoughtful, always watching. Wade’s got a temper, but he’s got a good heart under all that bark. And Wynn... she’s all heart and claws, that one.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing enough. If I’ve given them what they need. But then I see them laughing with the other kids. Riding like hell through the neighborhood. Guarding secrets like treasure. Standing shoulder to shoulder with their cousins and club brothers like they were born to it. And I think maybe, just maybe, I didn’t screw it all up.

I built them a world. One that’s messy and loud and full of danger. But it’s also full of love. Of loyalty. Of people who’ll bleed for them. That’s more than I ever had growing up. I finish my coffee and glance toward the spot where the box is buried.

They don’t know I watched them. That I saw Wynn take the note and tuck it close like it meant something. Like she understood what it really said.

Don’t ever forget who you are.

I won’t. And I’ll make sure they never do either.