by Rayne, Sara
A firm hand grasped his and pulled him to his feet. "There you are, Bé."
"Voo?" Pretty Boy whispered hoarsely. He stumbled and Voo's arms came around him, holding him up. A bottle of water appeared in front of his face.
"Drink that." Voo moved his hands to his shoulders, still keeping him on his feet. He draped a pair of black boxers with a white scythe emblazoned across the crotch. "Then put these on."
Pretty Boy swallowed down the water, staring up into Voo's silver eyes and trying to make sense of what this meant.
Voo squeezed his shoulders. "Welcome to the House of Death, brother."
Pretty Boy wobbled on his knees, relief and confusion warring inside him. He'd made it. He was out of the damn hole, something he'd been praying for what had felt like fifty years. On the other hand …
Shep hadn't chosen him.
Had left him in that grave. Hadn't been the one to dig him up.
Christ, he was stupid. Thinking because they'd fucked now, just because Shep had let him … he'd thought it had been safe. But Shep didn't want him around anymore than anyone else Pretty Boy had ever slept with. Come the morning, all they wanted was him gone. That was always his problem—confusing people who just wanted an easy lay with people who might be willing to love him.
He'd just … he'd never thought it would go down like this between them.
Not with Shep.
He swallowed hard and looked up to see Fetch, Dash and Crash watching him with heavy eyes. He forced a grin. "Gentlemen! What's the verdict?"
Fetch nodded at Ryker standing him behind him. "War."
Crash pointed between him and Dash. "Pesitlence."
Pretty Boy heaved a breath as Voo slid a black leather jacket with a skull and cross bones rocker on it onto his shoulders. "Death."
Voo gripped his hand and tugged him against his chest. He pressed a dry kiss to his forehead. "Welcome, brother."
"Voo …" Pretty Boy wet his lips, dying to ask and knowing he shouldn't.
"Steady, bro. He had his reasons. Give him a chance to explain," Voo whispered in his ear.
Pretty Boy nodded.
"In the meantime," he continued louder. "We've got a Patch Party to get to gentlemen!"
"Picture first!" Coyote shouted. He shoved them to stand next to each other. Pretty Boy was glad it was a warm night, as they'd be spending the rest of it in their Family boxer briefs, new cuts and nothing else. Crash and Dash leaned their shoulders together, Fetch towering behind them, a hand on each of them. Pretty Boy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against them.
As least someone still had his back.
Coyote snapped the picture. "This is going up in the board room!"
Axel came forward. He hugged each of them, rubbing a handful of dirt into the back of their new cut. The tradition was meant to protect new members—make their cuts look worn in, so they didn’t get identified as rookies. Then Shep stepped up. When he put his arms around Pretty Boy, his scent invading his nose, Pretty Boy physically flinched. He knew the question was in his eyes when Shep looked at him.
Why didn't you choose me?
Shep stared at his House of Death patch as he rubbed dirt into the white lettering, a haunted look twisting his features. Then in the next second, he'd been passed on to the next brother and Shep had fucking vanished again.
He was too numb to even appreciate the irony of Duke the Unemotional hugging him in his underwear as the rest of the club welcomed their new members.
What had he expected? That Shep would want to be tied to him like that forever?
The next stop was Brimstone Ink. As he got his new member and family tattoos, Pretty Boy focused on Voo's steadying presence, trying not to think about how he had thought this night was going to go—not to think about how Shep should have been here with him as he got inked, how Shep should have been the one sliding the cut on his arms, welcoming him into the family—and accept it for what it was. He was still a Horseman now.
He had at least proved to Shep he was good enough to run with his crew. That had to count to something, right?
Or had he thrown it all away by fucking Shep when he'd been all emotional and out of his head? Had he blown any chance of them having something good because after five fucking years, he'd gotten too damn impatient?
Probably. He was pretty damn good at fucking himself over at every opportunity.
They made their way back toward Perdition, eventually strolling through what was left of the drunken rally crowd for the night. There were a few hoots and hollers, and an older lady grabbed Crash's ass. Pretty Boy tried to get into the spirit of the night.
He should be elated, but all he could think about was Shep not thinking he was good enough for Famine. Perdition roared as they entered and he made his way towards where Lexi sat cross-legged on one of the tables, nursing a plastic cup full of something strong.
She jumped up, rushing over to throw her arms around each of their necks, squealing something excited and congratulatory in his ear. Then she was pulling on his arms and suddenly they were in a corner booth with Elizabeth and Dani. Lexi was shoved against his side, whispering in his ear, "What the fuck happened?"
Pretty Boy choked. He looked away from her, trying to pretend that the rest of his prospect brothers weren't staring at him with knowing pity in their eyes. Maybe they didn’t know all the gory details, but they knew he and Shep were close. Knew that he’d been expecting to go into Famine. He turned so Lexi could see his new bottom rocker.
Fetch cleared his throat. "Pretty Boy's in Voo's house."
Lexi's eyes widened. "Honey, I'm so sorry."
He cleared his throat. "It's fine."
"Want to get fucking smashed off our asses?" She asked sympathetically.
"Yes, please."
She stood up on the booth seat and waved down Ryker. He wound his way back to them. "What are we drinking tonight?"
Elizabeth smirked at him. "Long Island Iced Teas, dear. All night long."
Ryker gave an exaggerated sigh. "Coming right up."
"Damn right they are!" She howled after him, then cackled as Lexi sat back down. They bumped fists. Apparently this wasn't their first round.
Crash stared between the two of them. "Well. What's all this then?"
Lexi grinned. "Technically, this part of the patch-in is the Old Lady Reception. Usually Eddie handles this whole thing, but since she is … indisposed at the moment, we weren't really sure who was supposed to take over. So, I figured it was still Eddie's thing no matter what and I asked Axel and Ryker if they wanted to plan it."
Apparently, while Shep had been training prospects to be full brothers, Eddie had been in some time with the new crop of Old Ladies and set an example for how such a dynamic went. The MC was going to keep on their toes with the womenfolk from here on out. Even Lexi, who had been kept away from the club most of her life, had found a comfy ‘club princess’ role. She seemed to be relishing her dive into all things MC.
"Oh no," Coyote squished himself into the booth on the other side of Dani. "I can just imagine how that went."
Elizabeth nodded as she drained the last of her glass through her teeth. "The exact words were, 'Fuck no, we don't know shit about planning no tea party.'"
Pretty Boy raised his brows. "No …"
"So, Elizabeth and I planned a tea party." Lexi's smile was brilliant.
"And volunteered Axel and Ryker to tend bar," Elizabeth added smugly.
Dash rested his chin in his hands to stare at them across the table. "You two are evil. I love you."
"That's the correct answer," Lexi teased with a wink.
As the night continued, Pretty Boy drifted through the celebratory atmosphere, caught in a full on brooding session. All the members were there, scattered throughout the bar, drinking. Jagger dragging a reluctant Blue, Voodoo, Coyote, Pretty Boy and his fellow patch-ins, Dani, Elizabeth and Rose had all been talked into playing Truth or Dare Karaoke by Lexi.
The rules were
pretty simple. Everybody picked a song, then you asked a person a question. They could answer truthfully or sing the song you picked. And in between questions—everybody drank.
Eventually, Lexi managed to sucker Shep into joining in, giving him a guilt trip about abandoning the prospects as soon as they became brothers. When he pulled a chair up to the edge of the sprawling area of tables they'd taken over, there was palpable tension between him and the newest members.
This was fucking awful. Patch=-in night wasn't supposed to be this way. Pretty Boy finished off another long island iced tea and tried to focus on the game. His eyes stayed glued to Shep's back, but he never caught his gaze.
"So, Dani?" Lexi asked. "The question is: Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now and the song is the theme song to C.O.P.S."
"Mr. Right Now!" Dani shouted. "Easy."
"Hey speaking of Mr. Right Now, isn't that your boyfriend?" Dash smirked, nodding his head towards the front door.
Officer Douche—who Lexi whispered in his ear was actually named Frost, had just walked in with Steele. Frost had the typical asshole-swagger of a cop. While Pretty Boy knew that with Dani’s history of run-ins with the law in this town, the appreciative glance she swept over the off-duty officer said there were some parts of Hell’s finest she truly appreciated. Frost and Steele stood over by the bar, probably paying their respects to Axel, and Dani’s eyes seemed to automatically follow the cop’s movements.
Dani caught Pretty Boy’s amused stare and shrugged, covering a blush with a laugh. "Not the way I'd imagined handcuffs working in my relationship."
When the laughter died down, she turned to Voo. "Ok, please know I mean this in the most respectful way possible—why do you believe in Voodoo?"
Voo stilled, his eyes reflecting like silver pools of moonlight. He cleared his throat. "My uh, my pickup truck. My Granmere, she gave me a protection talisman and I left it in my truck. It's the only thing that survived the hurricane."
Fetch whistled low. "Damn."
Crash bumped a sympathetic fist against Voo's shoulder.
Voo shook himself. "Let's try a lighter subject." He caught Pretty Boy's gaze. "This one's for you, my new brother. How many tats you got now that we inked you for the Family of Death?"
"Why don't you just show them to us?" Lexi asked, eyes wide as the ladies giggled around her.
"What's the song?"
"Barbie girl."
He swallowed hard. Dammit Voo. "Alright, alright, I'll show you."
The girls whooped and the men tried to groan louder than them. He flexed his left bicep. "This is my brand new Four Horsemen MC." The brothers cheered around him. Apparently they had a full audience now. "And right below it, the skull over dual scythes is my House Crest."
Voo thumped his fist against his chest in a gesture of solidarity. Pretty Boy slipped off his cut, wondering at what point he became the kind of person who could stand in the middle of a crowded bar in his boxer briefs and just not give a fuck. He turned his back to his audience and twisted around to try and point, ignoring some of the lewd suggestions being shouted at him.
"Pretty Boy, do you have a tramp stamp?" Dani yelled. "Oh shit, you do. Are those wings? What's it say?"
His face heated. "Yes, wings. It says, 'Rise Above.'"
"Why?" Lexi asked, unabashedly staring.
"Because my actual motto of 'you can go fuck yourself' would have cost a lot more," he answered cheekily. "And before you ask, the numbers below it are a date."
"What's the date?"
"The thirtieth of none of your business," he replied.
"Hey, that was like … two days ago?" Lexi shifted closer, her fingers running under the inked numbers.
"Don't pet the new members, luv," Voo chided, pulling her hand back. "They're not tame yet."
"So, what's it mean?" Lexi persisted.
Shep cleared his throat, apparently picking this moment to contribute to the conversation. "It's the day his father died."
"The day after actually," he corrected softly.
The conversation died.
"Hey, speaking of awkward," Crash said, sitting up and turning to the rest of the table. "Let's move this along, there's still one more tattoo."
"And how do you know that?" Dani questioned. "Exactly what did they make you prospects do?"
"We'll never tell." Crash grinned. "But if you'd get your brain out of the gutter for two seconds, you'd realize it's on his wrist."
"That's too bad." Dani winked at Pretty Boy. "You know I'm just messing with you, right man? I got nothing but love for you, brother."
He held up his fist at her. "Right back at you, babe."
"So … the tattoo?" Dash prompted.
Pretty Boy reluctantly held his arm out to the group. The fire-ringed horseshoes spotlighted in the middle of the table.
"Holy shit!" Lexi exclaimed. Inexplicably, she exchanged a long look with Coyote. She looked up at Pretty Boy. "How'd you get that?"
Pretty Boy smiled tightly. "One question per turn."
"Spoilsport," she muttered under her breath.
"I'll go," Shep said, clutching his beer like a life line. "Jagger, this one's yours."
"Oh, goody," Jagger said wryly.
"The song is Carry On My Wayward Son and if you take it, you and Blue have to do a duet." Shep grinned.
"Are you kidding me with this shit?" Jagger cursed. He turned to Blue. "You up for it, sweetheart?"
"I got stamina like you wouldn't believe, mister." She smirked. "Or you know, you could just tell the truth and not suck."
Jagger gave her an eyeful of oh so hot with an extra side of and so mean. "Fine. You're on, VP."
Shep refilled his glass from one of the half-empty pitchers on the table. "The hottie you've been sweating so hard, what's her last name?"
Jagger swore. "You bastard."
"Just love to hear you sing, brother." Shep toasted him with his glass.
Jagger stared down at Blue's smug smile. "You think this is about you, pretty?"
"If it's not, we need to have a little talk about standards." She widened her eyes. "Getting both the first and last name before you fuck her shouldn't be a challenge."
He grinned. "Am I to understand you are implying that after I have acquired said names, fucking is the next logical step?"
"Doesn't matter. It's never going to happen." She wet her lips.
Jagger caught Blue's hand and tugged her to her feet. "Let's do this."
They slowed the tempo of the song, and belted out a remorseful rendition that had more than a few of the bikers swallowing and blinking as they looked away. Blue painted the song with melancholic strokes of her violin strings as the only accompaniment. Jagger stood center stage, spread his arms and sang to the heavens ignoring the mic.
Chills raced down Pretty Boy's spine. He couldn't help seeking out Shep's gaze. He wet his lips. What was Shep thinking about right now?
Why didn't you choose me?
Pretty Boy grabbed another drink.
"So, Fetch!" Dani called. "The song is Y.M.C.A. and the question is—top or bottom?"
Fetch blushed to the roots of his hair. "You mean—"
"Yeah, when you're fucking. Do you want to be on top or bottom?" Dani spoke slowly as if Fetch simply hadn't heard her.
Fetch looked around for help.
"I got your back, buddy! I'll take this one," Pretty Boy called, trying to shake off his obsessing. He couldn't help sneaking a glance at Shep. "While my brothers here—" he paused to elbow Crash. "—disagree. I insist I'm the top."
"What?" Coyote straightened, but he was staring at his phone. His thumbs flew over the screen. Apparently he was in deep text with someone.
Shep's head had snapped up, his eyes boring into Pretty Boy's face now. It gave him a warm feeling inside, knowing that he was getting to him. Like maybe he wasn't invisible. Like he mattered.
He knew exactly what Shep was picturing right now. Every minute in that truck, their bodies sliding against each other
. How it felt when Pretty Boy slid all the way home inside him, again and again.
Holding his gaze, Pretty Boy drawled, voice soft and promising, all want and submission, "Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm totally the bottom."
Shep dropped his drink. The glass broke, liquor sliding across the table, people throwing cocktail napkins like confetti over the mess. And Shep just kept staring at Pretty Boy.
Lexi jostled him as she gathered the soaked napkins into a soggy mess more or less in the center of the table. "Sacrifice to the party gods!"
"What are they teaching you at that school?" Voo asked, raising an eyebrow.
She grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Her phone buzzed next to Pretty Boy's elbow on the table and he glanced at the screen. "Are you in a group chat right now? Why do you owe Yo twenty bucks?"
Voo braced his arms on either side of Lexi's chair, leaning down into her face. "Told you not to bet against me, ma petit."
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I could've seen it either way."
Pretty Boy frowned. It almost sounded like they were talking about him and Shep. Or he was fuckin’ paranoid. “What are you—”
"Don't worry about it. Coyote, you're up. The song is—"
"Just to be clear, if it's not from Dr. Horrible, I'm not singing it." Coyote held up a hand.
"Danger Zone."
"I might sing it. What's the question?" He turned and gave her an arch look. "And it better not be about Val Kilmer, because I'm still traumatized from our last movie night."
Blue and Jagger had finished their song, making their way back to the table with fresh pitchers of Long Islands.
She snickered. "Nope, it's easy. What's your OTP?"
"What the fuck is an OTP?" Blue pulled up a chair.
"One true pairing," Pretty Boy explained. "Can we smoke in here? Since its our patch party?"
"Technically, it's the Old Lady Tea Party, and I say you can." Lexi waved her hand at him like she was weaving a magic spell.
"Are we talking Real Person Fic or—"
"Hang on, does that mean real person, like not-a-demon or not-an-angel or not-a-time-travelling-alien?" Fetch lurched forward in his chair. "Or like, the actors and crap?"