“Sorry about that,” I whisper. “Some girls like to test a new ol’ lady on their turf.”
“It’s nothing new,” Shelby says. “Kids used to make fun of me all the time in school.”
I pull away. “People made fun of you singing country music in Texas?”
“Well, not what kind of music I was singing. That I sang at all. Plus, we were poor, so I never dressed cool enough, or lived in the “right” neighborhood, yet I had the audacity to think I was better than everyone else by winning talent shows.”
Even though I understand exactly what she’s saying, I hate it for her. “Being famous in a small town put you in a tough spot.”
“Sure did.” She shrugs. “I never had the same interests as the other girls. They were playin’ My Little Pony and I was grabbing a microphone and singing my heart out. Then when Hayley got sick, I missed a ton of school and stuff. Some kids were nicer and stopped picking on me. After losing Hayley, I kinda didn’t give a hoot what anyone thought. I just knew I was going for my dream no matter what.”
I lean in, rubbing my forehead against her temple. “I wish I’d known you then. I would’ve kicked their asses.”
She laughs softly. “I imagine so.”
“What about Trent? I thought you two went way back?”
“We didn’t go to the same schools and I don’t exactly think he ran with the in crowd either.” After a few thoughtful seconds, she continues, “Redneck Roadhouse was cool at first because I was finally around other people who cared about music the way I did.”
“And then?”
“It turned into a soap opera. The producers yanked our chains to stir the drama. I didn’t catch on quick enough. People I thought were friends were being coached by the judges on how to squeeze the most entertainment out of us. The music was secondary to the theatrics.” She cocks her head and studies me for a moment. “You really never looked up the episodes and watched ‘em after we met?”
“Why would I want to watch reality-show Shelby when I had real Shelby in my life?”
She swoops in and kisses me. “You had me all right.”
I shake with laughter. “For once, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know you didn’t.” She kisses my cheek this time. “Anyway, some muffler bunny tryin’ to ruffle my feathers is nothing compared to the crap I’ve dealt with.”
“Yeah, I still don’t like it.” I trace my finger over her cheek. “You may not have had anyone to protect you before. But you do now.”
“I can handle myself,” she whispers. “But I like knowing you’ve got my back.” She meets my eyes. “I may not be able to throw a punch like you, but I’ve always got your back too.”
“Saw some of that back there.” I tilt my head toward the falls. “Love you for it.” While I hate to ruin the moment, this needs to be said. “But don’t ever try to intervene between two brothers.”
Instead of the anger I expected, she sighs. “I held back, Rooster. Trust me, I wanted to kick Acorn in the dick. And I had plenty more to say to Pony, but I bit my tongue.”
I bark out a laugh, jostling her in my lap. Yeah, I could sense her restraint, which is why I kinda feel like a dick for the warning.
She runs her fingers through my hair. “I pay attention to what the old ladies of your club do and don’t do. Can’t say I love that women don’t seem to have much of a voice but it’s your domain. I knew that when we got involved.”
Every word from her sweet mouth beats the words property patch through my brain. Shelby understands the club better than I ever anticipated. She should be wearing a patch same as the other ol’ ladies here.
“And,” she continues, “you don’t tell me to try playin’ a song in G major, so I’m not about to tell you what to do in your club.”
“Thank you, chickadee. That ever happens again, I want you to leave and go to Jiggy, okay?”
She stops running her fingers through my hair. “See, now you went one too far. I wouldn’t cut and run on you.”
“I don’t mean cut and run. I mean get backup for me.”
“Ohhh.” She laughs. “I don’t think you need backup. But okay. Next time, I’ll get Jiggy.”
“You call for me, songbird?” Jigsaw jumps onto our blanket, knocking us sideways.
Laughing, Shelby reaches over and pats his leg. “Yup. Hadn’t seen ya in five minutes. Was gettin’ Jiggy withdrawals.”
“That’s not a thing,” I grumble.
“Sure it is.” Jiggy thumps me on the back.
“Dinner!” Pony yells.
We mostly form an orderly line, waiting to get to the grill.
Anita, Dana, and some of the other women hand out paper plates and plastic utensils to everyone in line. Shelby studies hers for a few seconds.
“You all right?” I ask.
She leans up on tiptoes to whisper in my ear, “Afraid they mighta licked it or something.”
“Doubt it.”
Jiggy swoops in. “Only thing they’re lickin’ is dicks. Your plate is safe, songbird.”
“Listen in much?” Shelby sasses.
I shove his face away from us. “Get out of here.”
When we make it to the food, Acorn’s handing out hot dogs. Taking a cue from Shelby, I avoid ‘em just in case. Asshole might poison mine.
He nods at me, though. Seems almost contrite. Still don’t trust him.
Not sure what I expected to find by coming back to my home charter but whatever it was is gone.
Shelby’s words back on the beach ring truer than ever.
My home and my future belong with her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rooster
We leave the park an hour or so before dusk to return to the clubhouse.
When we reach the last gas station on the edge of town, Pony signals that he’s stopping. It’s a small two-pump kind of station. The attached store blends into the surrounding environment, looking more like a log cabin than a gas station, complete with green metal roof. Jiggy and I use the time to fill up while Pony and some of the others run inside. When we’re finished, we move the bikes to the side of the building where the rest of the club parked.
I try not to groan when Smoke approaches us.
“Think you’re gonna make it down to the rally in Florida this year?” he asks me.
“I know Z wants to make a showing, so probably.”
He cocks his head. “Yeah, how you got three of Z’s underlings out on the road, anyway? What’s he doing now, runnin’ the whole charter himself?” He spits on the ground. “Rock always wanted to take over downstate, so wouldn’t surprise me one bit now that he’s got his boy installed there.”
I’d love to see Smoke refer to Z as boy to his face.
“Z’s no one’s boy,” Dex says, walking over to join the conversation.
“Rock’s got more than enough to handle upstate,” I add.
“It’s too bad you left, bro.” Jiggy runs his hand over his chin and flashes one of his dickish smirks. “Things have been running a lot smoother with Z at the head of the table.”