Page 20 of The Biker and the Professor
We’re on a large property, which Cookie refers to as “the compound.” There’s a bar at the front where we came in, a dome-like structure that looks like a club of some sort, some mobile homes, a three-story apartment building, and motorbikes everywhere. Beyond all that is a vast open space with patchy grass and giant trees.
That’s where we are now. A massive bonfire flames and crackles, and all around it are scatters of people on large logs, tree stumps, old barrels, pallet benches, and old chairs, laughing and drinking and enjoying themselves.
A huge banner stretched between two trees reads, “Welcome Home, Bugeye.” Whoever that is.
Scantily dressed women dance and gyrate around the bonfire, some making out with each other while the men cheer on.
Yep, I’msoout of my element. I don’t belong, and I think it shows, as people keep giving me strange looks. I suppose my outfit might also have something to do with it.
Where everyone else is in leather, cotton, or denim, I’m wearing a suede wrap-skirt and a prissy lace top. Although it crops just above my navel, showing a sliver of skin, I stick out like a sore thumb among this crowd.
With restless eyes, I sift through the sea of faces for Nero’s, but I can’t find him. I don’t even feel him. My body tends to tingle when he’s near; I can always feel him like air against my skin.He’s not here.
“You’re tense as hell. We need to get you a drink,” Cookie says, grabbing my hand and tugging my skulking butt along. “C’mon.”
She drags me over to a section where a handful of people are sprawled on, or dangling off of, two weathered picnic tables.
“Yo,” Cookie greets. “This is Toni. You all can look, but don’t touch or even breathe in her direction. Yeah?”
The men tip their chins in acknowledgment, and the women shrug. Cookie is different here. I suppose this is what she’s like when she’s out of our neighborhood and in her element.
“Someone get her a drink,” she tells the table in general.
“What’re you drinking?” a heavily made-up brunette asks me as she rises to assist.
“A glass of Chardonnay, please.”
The brunette pauses and looks from me to Cookie as if she doesn’t know what to do. Then I realize that everyone at the table is staring at me.
What? What did I do wrong?
Cookie laughs and shakes her head as she tells the brunette, “Get her a Corona.” Then to me, “Sit down, prissy.”
I sit down, because if none of these big, bad bikers are daring to argue with her, then I sure won’t.
As the brunette returns and hands me a bottle of Corona, a tall, muscle-packing guy runs up behind Cookie and envelops her in a bear hug from behind.
“Sexiest woman on the planet,” he growls into her neck, right before she whips around and smacks him upside the head. “Oh, youknowI live for the pain, Cookie.”
The first thing I notice about him is his size. He’s big and firm, like a WWE wrestler. The second thing is that he’s hot. Crazy hot. Long, black hair, full lips, groomed beard, large muscles, a vibrant bronze complexion, and inked skin. Third thing, the fresh claw scratches on his cheek, as if he’s been in a catfight with a woman with sharp nails. Fourth, he’s young. No more than twenty-five or so.
Cookie rolls her eyes at him. “Something’s seriously wrong with you. But I’m glad you’re here. I need to go discuss something with my brother, but I brought a friend with me and I don’t trust anyone else here with her.”
She turns and motions to me. “This is Toni. Toni, this is Scratch. I trust him enough to leave you in his care for a few minutes, you okay with that?”
No, I’m not okay with that. I’m not even okay with being here. Nero is nowhere in sight and he’s the reason I came. I’m ready to leave.
That said, I’m a thirty-two-year-old adult and it’s ridiculous that she even feels the need to look after me, let alone leave me with a babysitter. “I’m a grown woman, Cookie. I can take care of myself.”
“Well, okay then,” she says, grinning as if that is what she wanted to hear.
These people…so strange.
As she leaves, Scratch grabs an abandoned plastic chair and claps it down next to me. “You look scared shitless.”
“I’m not.” I totally am.
With an unconvinced nod, he takes a swig of his beer. “So, who are you to Cookie, anyway?”
