Page 3 of Piston

He clutches his chest in mock heartbreak, drawing a round of laughter from his buddies.

As I mix drinks and talk with the regulars, a sense of belonging washes over me. The night wears on, the energy in the bar pulses like a living thing. Laughter roars over the clink of glasses and the thrum of music. I lose myself in the rhythm of it all, pouring drinks and cracking jokes, my earlier exhaustion melts away.

I spot a group of Iron Reapers entering the club, their leather cuts emblazoned with the fierce logo that commands respect. Among them is Carlie’s old man, the president of the MC, his arm slung around her shoulders. They look so damn happy, so in love, and I can’t help but feel a little jealous of what she has.

“Hey, Jenny!” Carlie calls out, waving at me from across the bar. “Can you believe this little one’s gonna be here in just a few months?” She rubs her growing baby bump, a radiant smile lighting up her face.

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom, Carlie,” I say, pouring a round of beers for the Reapers. “And you,” I nod toward her old man, “you better treat her right, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

He chuckles, pulling Carlie closer. “Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, Jenny. You know she’s my queen.”

As I watch them together, I wonder if I’ll ever find that kind of love—someone who’ll ride with me through thick and thin, who’ll have my back no matter what. But I quickly push those thoughts aside. I’ve got a job to do, and I’m not about to let distractions get in the way.

The night kicks into high gear, and soon I’m swamped, juggling drink orders and struggling to keep up with the demand. The bar is packed. Everyone tuning in to catch the rival game.

“Jenny, we need a round of tequila shots, pronto!” Dagger calls out, slamming his empty glass on the bar.

“Coming right up, honey,” I say, already reaching for the bottle.

I pour the shots, the golden liquid sloshing into the glasses. The bikers clink their shots together, downing them in one swift motion before slamming the glasses back onto the bar.

“Keep ’em coming, Jenny,” another Iron Reaper says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’re just getting started.”

I grin, feeling the rush of adrenaline that always comes with working a busy shift. This is what I live for—the chaos, the camaraderie, the sense of being part of something bigger than myself.

Finally, I get a moment to catch my breath and lean against the bar, surveying the scene. That’s when my coworker, Sarah, sidles up next to me.

“Quite a night, huh?” she says, wiping her brow.

“You’re telling me,” I reply with a chuckle. “But you know I live for this.”

Sarah nods, a knowing smile on her face. “Speaking of living for something... when are you gonna snag yourself a biker of your own, Jenny? I see the way you look at Carlie and her man.”

A pang hits me at the mention of Carlie’s name. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her—she’s found her ride-or-die, and they’re expecting a little one too. But damn if I don’t want that for myself.

“I don’t know, Sarah,” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I mean, I love my life, but sometimes I just want... more, you know? Someone to come home to, someone who gets this life.”

Sarah puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it’ll happen for you, girl. You’re a catch. Any biker would be lucky to have you.”

I smile, appreciating her words even if I don’t quite believe them. “Thanks, Sarah. I hope you’re right.”

Just then, I spot Carlie across the room, wrapped in her man’s arms. They sway to the music, lost in their own little world. I can’t help but stare, transfixed by the easy intimacy between them.

Carlie’s biker whispers something in her ear, and she throws her head back, laughing. He pulls her closer, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes.

A lump forms in my throat as I watch them, my heart aching for what they have—the love, the trust, the unshakable bond. It’s everything I want, everything I dream of.

But I can’t dwell on it, not now. The bikers are getting rowdy, and I know I need to get back to work. With a sigh, I tear my gaze away from Carlie and her man, pushing my own longing aside.

“All right, boys!” I call out, plastering a grin on my face. “Who needs another round?”

As the bikers cheer, I throw myself back into the fray, losing myself in the familiar rhythm of pouring drinks and cracking jokes. But even as I work, I can’t shake the image of Carlie and her biker, the embodiment of everything I yearn for.

Someday, I tell myself. Someday, I’ll have that too.

As the night winds down, I wipe down the bar, the routine motions giving me space to think. The club is emptying out, only a few stragglers left nursing their beers. My mind drifts back to Carlie and her man, the way they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Damn, I want that,” I mutter under my breath.

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