Page 71 of Knot My MC
“Royce told me the guys had finally found one. I’m Monica.”
“You’re with Royce?” I think I remember him as being on the council. There’s that Rukus guy too. Too many R names to keep them straight.
“Yup.” She turns and props her toned arm on the top of the machine, resting her head against her hand. “Want a shot?”
“It’s two in the afternoon,” I point out for some reason.
“And?” Monica lifts an eyebrow. “Come on, I’m one of four old ladies and the other two don’t like coming to the club house. I need a woman’s company.”
I bite back a grin. “Maybe one.”
“That’s all I need.” Turning back to the machine, she hits play and the heavy music switches to an upbeat song. Everyone groans and turns to face us. I brace for harsh words, but they’re all hurled at Monica.
“This song is the worst.”
“Turn it off!”
“Really, Monica?”
The beta beside me bristles and drops her hands to her hips. “What exactly is wrong with a song about finding yourself and leaving the haters behind?”
Silence.
“Exactly. If you don’t like it, go outside.” She turns back to me. “Come on.”
I follow her to the bar and she walks behind it like a seasoned pro, grabbing shot glasses and pouring a higher end tequila into them.
“To new friends.” She holds her tiny cup up.
I clink mine against it and shoot the liquor, hissing as a trail of fire chases the liquid. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” she rasps. “I never get used to it. Do you want a margarita?”
I shouldn’t, not when I’m in this fragile emotional state, but the hopeful look on Monica’s face has me agreeing.
“That’s my girl.” She wiggles her shoulders and winks at me.
I watch her mix the drink, admiring the smooth confidence she holds behind the bar. I’d probably make a mess, but Monica is clean and efficient and in no time we’re sipping on margs and watching the games of pool. We fall into an easy conversation. Monica sticks to superficial questions but that doesn’t bother me. Not today anyway.
Someone misses an easy corner pocket and I huff. “Come on.”
“Like you can do better.” Monica bumps me with her elbow. She tips her chin toward the people shooting. “They’ve been playing for years.”
“I can.” Dad and I played all the time. I’m no shark, but I’m better than the current players.
“Is that so?”
Rolling my head in her direction, I nod with an easy grin. Maybe I’m a little buzzed. That only makes me more confident. Without the nerves that come with being surrounded by Hell Hounds, I can play a solid game.
“I’m hearing you say you want to show these fuckers how to really play pool.” She drains the last of her drink. “I’ve been playing for twenty years. Let’s kick their asses.”
“We could put money on it.”
Her eyes flare with delight. “It’ll be like taking bottles from babies.”
“You mean candy?”
She shrugs. “Fuck if I know. I’m not about the crotch goblin life.” Grabbing my arm, she hauls me off the barstool.
