Page 50 of Defended By Bam
Glenda didn’t move from her face-down position in the lounge chair but mumbled, “Ah yes. I’ve seen the ego/asshole strut. Great way to spot when to run.”
Pinkie swam to the side of the pool, her perfect breasts bouncing like buoys. “Just wait ‘til next week. There’s so much fucking testosterone you practically absorb it in your pores.”
“Next week?” I asked, confused.
Bama dragged a regular chair over. “Not sure we’re going.”
“Oh c’mon! She’ll love it!” Pinkie whined with a huge frown. She sure could bat them lashes.
“Love what?” I asked again, pushing myself up in the lounge chair. Bama’s eyes went the length of me and for a second, all I could think of was the heat of his gaze, but I snapped out of it. “What are they talking about?”
“Thunder Beach, baby!” Pinkie said with a squeal.
My brows pinched. “What’s that?”
“Just a biker rally,” Bama said.
Pinkie smacked her hands on top of the water, and Sofie squealed, “You splashed me!”
Pinkie turned and splashed water on her playfully, then turned around. “It’s awesome. Bikers from all over. Some in clubs, some weekend riders, sadly a few dipshits, too, but mostly they’re awesome. And I always see a bunch of old friends.”
Pinkie used to work as an exotic dancer who traveled around. She had her own show. I didn’t completely understand how that worked but it sounded impressive. And I didn’t know how or why she was here cooking for the guys. Just like all other things around here, I didn’t press for info, and figured she’d tell me if she wanted to.
“Where is it?” I asked. I loved the beach.
“PCB!” Pinkie said. “Hammer was renting a couple of houses.”
“Back in my day we slept in fucking tents,” Butterbean said.
“You mean a couple years ago?” Froggy asked.
Butterbean rolled his eyes but leaned his elbows on his knees. “You think it gets rowdy here? Wait ‘til you see Thunder Beach, Linny.”
My eyes went wide, but Glenda reached over and tapped my arm. “Don’t listen to him. Sure, there’s little pockets of hardcore partying but there’s plenty of stuff that’s just fun. Of course there’s a wet t-shirt contest, but it’s not that bad.”
“Glenda won one time!” Pinkie shouted.
“Have you won?” I asked her. Surely she participated with that rack.
“I came runner-up once. Some bitch named Sugar from Georgia supposedly won, but I think she was giving out blowies for votes,” Pinkie said as she dipped her shoulders into the water.
“Like the suckers?” Sofie asked as she floated up and down with her swimmies.
I stifled a laugh, but Pinkie turned around. “Yeah, baby. The suckers.” She turned back with an apologetic grimace.
“Sounds…interesting,” I said. “How long is it?”
Rogers said, “Not quite a whole week, but we plan to go Thursday through Saturday. Maybe Sunday.”
“She has school.”
All the guys except for Bama burst out laughing. Froggy said, “Oh, it’s not really Sofie-friendly.”
Well, that answers why Bama said we probably wouldn’t go. “Oh well. Get me a souvenir.”
Pinkie huffed. “She’d be fine at the house. You guys don’t need to be bringing a bunch of skanks over, anyway.”
“Is there a pool?” Sofie asked as she doggie-paddled to the side of the pool, right next to Pinkie.
