Page 2 of Clear Your Mind

“Oh, and by the way, since you’re taking me to get jizzed on, the motorboat action up in the room is gratis.” She winks.

Oscar chokes on air and adopts a disgusted sour mien.

Faith knows exactly what he thinks. She does shit like this on purpose, and I love it.

On the way, we pass the cutoff to my shop. “It’s just down there a few miles. I’m officially a business owner.” I point to the road that eventually leads to the tiny storefront of a semi-run-down building with a sign that reads Crystal Clear.

“So, you’re all good to go and shit?”

“Mostly. I still need to do the exterior improvements and a few other things, but yeah. The soft opening went well. The clients I had when I worked for Leslie all followed me over, so I’m grateful for them. I need to hire someone to do some of what Leslie did, but yeah.”

Faith nods. “Why did she quit?”

“She got that less-than-awesome diagnosis, so she sold the shop to developers to pay for her treatments. She gave me a severance, as she called it, and her client list, but I don’t read tarot. Leslie’s the type who cares about her clients. They’re her family. She doesn’t want them getting taken in by one of these pop-up crystal slash tarot shops. I’m forever grateful to her for that, but that means it’s up to me to find a tarot reader who isn’t sketchy, so the clients she loves aren’t taken advantage of. No pressure there, right?” I laugh nervously. I will not let Leslie down.

Faith smiles at me. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve it all. Now if we can get you a good dicking…” She lets her words die as Oscar slams the car into park. We offer our thanks for the ride, but he’s tight lipped and cranky. We giggle and walk toward the entrance, arm in arm, as Oscar speeds off.

Apparently, I had the start time of the concert wrong. We missed the opening act, so the floor is already crowded. We order shots and chasers because most good nights that lead to great stories start with shots.

“To the men we’ve loved, to the men we’ve fucked. To the men we’d love to fuck,” Faith toasts.

We down the shots, grab our beers and head toward the stage.

We don’t get far before we hit a wall of people. It’s too far back for me to see shit, even for a bar venue.

Short girl problems.

I scan the crowd, and my eyes stop when I take in two bikers to my left.

Two fine-as-fuck bikers.

I nudge Faith’s shoulder and direct her attention to the side.

“Holy shit, did they just jump off an MC romance book cover or what?”

It’s a valid question. Considering what we write, that would be where our minds go.

“Right?” I’m shouting to get over the music. “The blond one looks like a story I’m going to tell my grandkids when I’m senile and can’t remember anything else about life except him. A really inappropriate story involving phrases like reverse cowgirl, breathe through your nose, and good girl.” GWAR finishes a song, and the applause dies down right after the wordlikeleaves my mouth. The bikers can hear all the words after that.

I’m slightly mortified and slightly who the fuck cares. The crooked smile on the blond biker’s full lips beaming at me confirms what I suspect.

Yep, heard it.

The lights flash, and I’m caught in his blue gaze as he looks me up and down and licks his bottom lip. I couldn’t have written him better if I tried. I almost wish I had a notepad to document the exchange for a future book.

“So, you’re going to bethatgrandma, are ya?” Faith stage-whispers.

I do a double take of my friend. “Like there was ever a doubt.” And just like that, slightly mortified left the building.

“I’ll drink to that.” Faith raises her beer toward me and the bikers, well, just me. The men fled. I follow Faith’s silent toast and down my beer, too.

Faith takes my empty and turns. She’s going for round number two, but she’s biker blocked. Each man holding two beers. “Irish handcuffs. Nice,” Faith teases Badass Biker Number Two while I stare, catching flies at Badass Biker Number One, a.k.a. Blond Biker.

Without a word, they take the empties and hand both of us a full, unopened beer. Blondie disappears with the empties and returns before the next song.

I can feel his heat on my back as his breath ruffles my hair. Blondie’s nearness is giving me all kinds of wicked thoughts.

They’re about to behead the president on stage and I’m frustrated I can’t see it. “I’m never going to get jizz on me at this rate,” I complain to Faith.

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