“You’re not thinking of relocating, are you?” Jigsaw asks.
“Maybe.” He lifts his chin at Rooster. “How you feelin’ with Z in charge now?”
“Good,” Rooster answers without hesitation. “Club’s headed in the right direction and he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty with the rest of us.”
Ink nods slowly. “Thought that might be the case.” He glances at the clubhouse. “Pony’s actually improved a lot of stuff here but I still get itchy feet, ya know?”
“I hear you,” Rooster says. “Our doors are always open, you know that. Come visit.”
“Vegas and I were talking about making the trip. Maybe see if we can get one or two more brothers to join us.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Rooster pats his back.
Jigsaw’s mostly quiet and tight-jawed during their conversation. I’m dying to ask if it’s a general not-wanting-to-share-his-club-with-other-brothers issue or if he doesn’t like Ink for some reason. But I can’t come up with a way to ask that won’t seem rude. Plus, if I don’t pipe up, they’re more likely to keep talking about club stuff in front of me.
Even so, I move closer to Jiggy and nudge him with my elbow. His serial killer vibe melts away and he smiles down at me. “You’re coming back to New York with us, right?”
Well, shoot.
Rooster and I haven’t directly talked about where I’ll land after the tour and recording my album. We’re already pretty much living together out on the road. If I say I want to move to New York with him, is that too much too soon? Too clingy?
I don’t want to be away from Rooster for long periods of time, I know that for sure.
And I know he has to get back to his club at some point.
When I don’t answer right away, Jigsaw mutters, “Shit,” and returns to fiddling with his bike.
While I need to talk it out with Rooster first, I hate Jiggy being mad or upset or whatever he is with me. I scoot over to him and touch his arm.
“Sorry if you were hoping to get your wingman back.” I keep my voice low. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me any time soon.”
He meets my eyes. “That’s not what I was worried about.”
“Ready?” Rooster slips his arm around my shoulders.
“Yup.”
He hands me my helmet and takes his time helping me strap it on.
Brothers start firing up their bikes and it’s impossible to hear anything over the loud rumbles.
Rooster and Jigsaw seem to fall somewhere in the middle of the pack. Lately, when I’ve ridden with him, we’ve either been alone or Rooster’s been in the lead. Having bikes in front of us and at our back freaks me out and I squeeze Rooster tighter than normal. He reaches back and pats my leg. After a few miles, I open my eyes. Everyone’s riding smoothly together. Having Jiggy on our right adds a touch of normalcy. My body relaxes and I enjoy the lush scenery. A few bikes ahead of us, I recognize Heather sporting a property of Acorn patch holding onto a biker.
We finally roll into a small town, the whole pack slowing for a red light. I scan the area around us, taking in a quaint country market. In the parking lot a group of people pull out cell phones and aim them at our group.
“Thought that was frowned on,” I shout to Rooster.
He shrugs. “Community relations.”
Whatever that’s supposed to mean.
We continue, leaving the town behind. A long road stretches in front of us flanked by the tallest trees I’ve ever seen. My ears pop as we continue to climb and I work my jaw from side to side.
The trees spread out and rolling green hills appear. The bike slows and I glance at the riders in front of us. Blinkers indicate we’re all turning left.
A steady line of cars stream past us until one truck stops and waves for us to make the turn. Pony stops to thank him and motions for everyone to enter under a large wooden sign that reads Gold Falls State Park.
Everyone turns to look at the pack of bikes streaming into the park. More photos are taken. A few parents grab their children. Some wave. The pack continues, smoothly gliding into one line and cruising into a larger, mostly empty parking lot.
We slow to a stop. Acorn and another biker I haven’t met yet guide the bikes into neat rows and each brother waits patiently to back into a spot. Rooster points to the end of the row and Acorn waves him ahead.
I’m kinda relieved we won’t be boxed in.
Jiggy glides in next to us. Dex, Pants, and Steer also join our corner.
I unwind myself from Rooster. Dang, I’d been hanging on tighter than I realized. I shake my stiff arms and wiggle my fingers. I kick my leg up and off the bike. My boots hit the ground and my thighs tremble. Rooster steadies me with a hand on my hip.
“You all right?”
I pull off my helmet and shake out my hair. “Guess it’s been a while since we rode that long.”
His mouth curls up. “Hasn’t been that long, chickadee.”
By the smoldering look in his eyes, I think we’re talking about different kinds of rides.
Flustered, I rub my hands on my jeans and back away so he can get off the bike.
The guys grab the supplies they brought and the herd of us trudges through the grass to a shady spot with picnic tables and a grill. I recognize two of the prospects from earlier carrying a large cooler. One of ’em keeps makin’ puppy eyes at Foghorn’s ol’ lady. That should be entertaining.
“From sex ed to Sherpa duty in a matter of hours, huh?” I say to Rooster in a low voice.
“Life of a prospect.”
“At least they get some treats along with all the bitch work,” Pants says, slinging an arm over Rooster’s shoulder. “That woulda made being a prospect a whole lot more enjoyable. Am I right?”
“I guess,” Rooster grumbles.
Pants moves ahead of us to talk to someone else, and Dex smirks at Rooster. In a low voice, he says, “Priest keeps encouraging us to grow our numbers. Maybe that’s what we need to do to attract more prospects.”
Rooster side-eyes him. “Yeah, and which brother do you think’s gonna offer up his ol’ lady as the club’s official demo doll?”
Dex rumbles with laughter. “Chill. I was kidding. Although, we do have the stable of porn stars.”
“The promise of even gettin’ near them should be enough of a draw,” Jigsaw adds.
“Hell, I think that almost has Remy hooked for the support club,” Dex says.
Rooster rolls his eyes. “Fuck that wanker.”
I snicker into my hand and they all focus on me.
My smile fades under their attention. “What? I liked Remy. He’s direct and to the point.”
“Sure, that’s one way to put it,” Rooster says.
The whole group spreads out blankets and congregates in a loose circle. Everyone talking, laughing, and catching up with each other.
Pants can’t stop talking about Foghorn’s demonstration. When he takes a breath, I reach over and tap his leg.
“Pants—did you get that name because you like gettin’ in the girls’ pants?” I tease.
His mouth curls into a devilish smirk. “Nope.”
Jigsaw raises his hand. “I actually know this one.”
Pants waves his hand in a grand gesture. “Speak, brother.”