“Fine, they’re for me.” He shrugs. “I’m a growing man, Violet.” He takes a cookie off the top and eats it whole, as evidence.
I laugh. “Eat all the cookies you want, Trapper.”
He nods in appreciation.
Joker is parked at the end of the bar with a whiskey. He lifts his glass an inch when I catch my eye.
Razor and Viper are at the far end of the bar, with shot glasses between them. Razor fills each one like a man who takes his liquor seriously. Viper picks one up, waits for Razor to match him, and they throw them back in sync. No clink. No toast. They set the glasses down at the same time, and Razor refills without a word.
Saber cuts the music at nine to address the crowd.
The room goes quiet for the MC President.
He’s at the center of the room. Shelby is beside him, her hand resting on his arm. Duke is next to me, holding Leo, and Duke’s free hand is on the small of my back.
“One more thing before I let you get back to the cake.” Saber’s eyes scan the room. “Jinx. Get up here.”
Jinx pushes off the far wall. He’s healed completely from the ordeal he faced. He walks to Saber with his chin up and his fists clenched at his sides, and every patched member in the room knows what’s coming.
Saber holds up a cut. Full Hellborn Kings colors. Not a prospect patch. The real thing.
“You fought four men in a cattle barn and won. You got into a ring with a man twice your size and put him on the floor. You bled for this club.” Saber hands him the cut. “You’ve earned this.”
Jinx takes it. His hand is shaking. He stares at the patch on the cut for a long moment, and then he presses it to his chest with one hand, and the room explodes.
Every member is on their feet. Fists pounding tables, boots stamping. Crash lifts his beer so fast it sloshes over the rim. Trapper is clapping with a cookie in his mouth. Joker bangs his glass on the bar twice.
Duke is clapping beside me. Leo imitates him. His tiny hands slap together. He’s grinning, with no idea what’s happening, but thrilled to be part of it.
Jinx gets swarmed. Backs are slapped. Shoulders are grabbed. The newest Hellborn Kings member holds on to that cut like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
The music comes back on. The roar dissolves into laughter and clinking glasses, and the party resumes.
It’s past ten when I step outside.
Duke is talking to Saber indoors near the bar, but I wanted some fresh air.
The desert air is cool against my skin after the heat of the packed clubhouse. I lean against the railing on the front porch and let the noise drain out of me. Inside, the music is back up, and Leo is asleep in our clubhouse room with a babysitter.
Viper is outside.
He’s sitting on the porch steps, boots planted in the gravel, a bottle of water in his hand. He doesn’t look up when the door opens, but he shifts an inch to the left. Making room. An invitation from a man who doesn’t extend many.
I sit down next to him. The wood is rough under my dress, and I pull the fabric around my knees and settle.
We’re quiet for a while. The parking lot is full of bikes. The desert stretches flat and dark beyond the chain-link fence, and the sky is thick with stars the way it only gets out here, away from the city.
“Good party,” I say.
“Shelby.” One word. Full credit given and received.
I’m really lucky to have a friend like her.
“You didn’t dance,” I say to him.
“I don’t dance.”
“Ever?”