“No man left behind. If you need to stop, let us know,” Rooster says.
“Nah.” Pants lifts his chin at me. “She’s gotta be there on time. I might need to rest for a bit. That’s all.”
“Why don’t you ride in the truck with us?” I ask Pants.
He stares at me as if I asked him to strip off his clothes and hang onto the truck’s front grill like our naked hood ornament.
“Thanks, Shelby, but I’ll be okay.”
Trent asks about Steer’s bike. Thrilled with the possibility of popping Trent’s Harley cherry, Steer shows off his ride. Pants and Dex head to their bikes.
“All right.” Rooster claps his hands and rolls his shoulders, clearly eager to get on the road. “We ready?”
Jiggy salutes him.
“I’m so ready to move away from this West Coast tour of all my boyfriend’s exes,” I tease.
Jiggy grins like a devil. “But songbird, the East Coast, hell the entire country—”
“I will motherfuckin’ end you if you finish that thought,” Rooster warns.
The pained expression stretched across Jiggy’s face says he’s having a hard time deciding his fate.
“Jigsaw,” I say patiently, “is messin’ with Rooster really worth hurtin’ my feelings?” I pull an extreme sad face to drive home the guilt.
His devilish laughter cuts off. “Shit. No.”
“Go check that everything’s locked down tight and quit running your mouth,” Rooster orders.
Once we’re alone, he pulls me close. “You really that upset about—”
“No, I just didn’t want you to maim him.” I glance down. “That doesn’t mean I want to hear stories about all the women you’ve banged from California to New York and everywhere in between.”
“I don’t—”
“Can we drop it?” I flash an evil smile and poke his chest. “It’s all good. Soon enough, we’ll be on my turf.”
His gaze narrows. “And?”
“And,” I raise my arms above my head and glide into a few quick cowboy waltz steps while singing, “All my exes live in Texas.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rooster
We work our way back to Texas one show at a time.
A night in Spokane. Two nights near Boise. When we arrive in Denver, I make my courtesy call to the president of the Savage Dragons MC.
“How you been, Rooster?” Blaise asks as soon as I identify myself.
“Not bad. Been on the road for a bit now.”
“Nice. Nothing better than chasing wind.”
“True.” Best to get straight to the point. “Actually, I’ll be rolling through your neck of the woods in a few days. Think we could meet up?”
He hesitates longer than I expected. And it’s not like I hear him flipping through his calendar on the other end.
“Yeah, I can do that. Anything particular on your mind?”
“Ran into some mutual former associates recently.”
“Oh yeah?” Now I have his interest.
“They seemed confused with some geographical issues but we had an open and honest discussion. A real healing experience.”
He laughs for a solid thirty seconds. “That’s great. Y’all have a spa day together?”
“Complete with mani-pedis.”
More thundering laughter. “Cool. Yeah. Let’s meet. You plannin’ on seeing that waitress again when you’re here?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Uh, that’s actually who I’m out on the road with now. She’s not a waitress anymore. She’s a singer.”
“No shit? That’s cool. I was going to say let’s meet at that diner.”
“That’s fine.” Now that I let him know I’ve already done him a favor, I get to the other reason for the call. “I’m not ridin’ alone. Got a few brothers working security with me.”
“They flyin’ colors?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Shit, Rooster. You’re always welcomed here, you know that.”
“Appreciate it but don’t want to take it for granted, either.”
“Thanks for the head’s up.”
“Anytime.”
We talk for a few more minutes and then hang up.
“Seems like that went well,” Shelby says.
I glance up. “Didn’t realize you were listening in, chickadee.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
I hold out my hand, beckoning her closer. “Didn’t mean it in a bad way. I like that you’re interested in club matters.” Fuck knows, some issues could be avoided in club life if ol’ ladies paid better attention.
“Do you mean that?”
“Of course I do.” I get why she’s skeptical, so I’m not offended by her surprise. “You’re the perfect balance of interested and supportive but not intrusive.”
“Hmm, that might have been the nicest way someone’s told me to stay in my lane.”
“That’s not quite how I meant it.”
“I’m just messin’ with you.” She taps my shoulder. “So that was the president of the club runnin’ most of Texas now?”
“Yup, just lettin’ him know we’re riding through.”
“Like Red Storm shoulda done up in Washington?”
“Yes, although we have a better relationship with Savage Dragons than we do with Red Storm.”
“Got that loud and clear from all of Smoke’s bitching,” she says.
I hold back my laughter. I knew she’d been listening.
“So,” she continues, “is it possible Pony mighta told them to pound sand if they tried callin’ him?”
Interesting question. “I’m not sure what decision Pony would’ve made, but they didn’t give him the opportunity.”
“What if Blaise told you to kiss off?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, but what if he did?”
“Then, I’d have to tell the guys not to wear their cuts while riding through their territory.”
“That would be enough?”
I sense what she’s trying to get at with her questions. And hell, I might as well be honest. “It should be. But it would be offensive for Blaise to tell us no—”
“So you guys might do it anyway just to piss him off?”
I run my hand over my chin, considering the question before answering. “When I was younger, yeah, I might’ve. And there are plenty of guys who’ll do stuff like that just to start shit. Prove they have the bigger dick and all that. But it’s disrespectful—”
“And you guys are supposed to be big on respect.”
“Right. You give respect to get respect. Otherwise, it’s like walking into someone’s house, opening their refrigerator, making a snack, and plopping down on their living room couch without asking.”
“Gotcha.” She tilts her head like she needs more time to digest my example. “But older bikers like Smoke seem to think respect should be taken at all costs. He’s breaking into the house, cleaning out the refrigerator, and serving himself a picnic on the living room floor.”