The bar quiets when we walk in, and there are suddenly at least six pairs of eyes on us. Bartending is Little Titty Rhonda. On the side of the bar furthest from us, I spot Dawson, Skaggs, who is another prospect, and some new blonde club slut. Dawson makes eye contact immediately. Closest to us is Jules and Patrick. They are both like uncles to me.
Jules is quiet. I have always thought of him as sweet, although to most they probably wouldn’t think that. Reason they call him Jules has to do with some perv and Jules carving at the dude’s junk. Jules is handsome. He has blonde shaggy hair that hangs over his face. His goatee is also blonde but gray hair is starting to sneak in.
Then, there is Patrick. Patrick is about 6 feet tall, he shaves his head and is covered in tattoos. Patrick does not have a soft side. He always calls shit as he sees it which can be both endearing and annoying. When I was twelve, I got my period for the first time, and there were no women at the club that day. I made do with toilet paper, but I was crying and upset because, at times like that, I would’ve liked to have had a mom. Patrick asked me what was wrong, and I made the mistake of telling him. He hollered to Mickey across the bar that was packed full of bikers because another chapter just rode through. “Mickey, Maura over here got her rag, you need to get her something for that before she bleeds all over the vinyls.”
Agh, I was so mortified! I ran to my room and bawled the rest of the night until Mickey finally showed up. He had tampons, panty liners and about three different sizes of pads. “I didn't know what kind to get ye,” he had said sheepishly letting his Irish accent shine through. I stopped crying. The thought of my dad in the feminine aisle stocking up on all the girl products, and then riding home with them was hysterical to me. After that he made sure that an ole lady, which is a brother’s wife, brought me shopping once a month.
Every man at the bar is dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and their club vest. If Corbin didn’t realize when we pulled into the lot that my family is a motorcycle club, he knows it now. There is no denying it. I look at his face to see if there is judgment, but there isn’t. His eyes connect with mine, and there is kindness and reassurance. His hand is on the small of my back, a gesture that is so sweet to me, but I'm sure has not gone unnoticed by every man in this room.
One would think that the air was sucked out of the room. Everyone has stopped drinking and is staring at us, assessing whether or not Corbin is a threat. Patrick stands up as we walk over to him. I feel Corbin’s body language change. He is closer to me, more possessive, but he is easily the largest man in the room. He sticks his hand out first to Patrick.
“Corbin Marx.”
“Patrick.” The greeting is quick, but I watch Corbin make eye contact with the men. I see them eyeing him up and down trying to decide what he is doing with me. I decide to speak up.
“Corbin and I are together. Some shit went down, and we need to see Dray. It’s bad.” I know I need to get right to the point with these guys. When I say it’s bad, they know something big went down. After my twelve year old period dramatics, I learned to keep any drama away from these guys.
Patrick calls to Skaggs across the bar, “Skaggs, go tell Dray Maura here needs to see him. Daws, get ahold of Mick…”
I cut him off, “I told Turk when we got in to get dad back here asap.” Dawson gets up from the bar and heads in our direction. Before he can get to us, I grab Corbin’s hand and lead him to the back hallway where rooms are located. Corbin is quiet. I can tell he is evaluating the situation by his steady gaze on everyone around us.
“I pretty much lived here ‘til I was fourteen. I know this is intense. Is this okay?”
“Stop worrying, Maura. We’re good.” We stop in the hallway. I look up at him, meeting his eyes.
“We’re good?” I say in a questioning way.
“We’re good,” he reassures me. I raise on my tippy toes. He leans down and gives me a soft kiss.
“Ha ha ha ha oh boy,” Jules is chuckling at me, “Your old man is gonna lose his shit.”
I smack Jules on the arm, “He’ll be fine.”
“Yeah. Well, I already see one man losing his shit.” That’s Jules’ way of letting me know that Dawson is flipping out. I roll my eyes. I don’t want to deal with him today. Jules walks past us, and I nod to Corbin that we should follow.
“Draygon is our prez,” I say to Corbin as we reach the office door.
“You got any weapons on you?” Jules asks Corbin.
I answer for Corbin, “He doesn’t, but I do. I got my Glock.”
“Good girl,” Jules says. We walk into the office, Jules and Patrick follow us in. I notice that Patrick is still wary of Corbin, making sure his gun in his holster is clearly visible. I wouldn’t expect anything different from him.
Prez is in his sixties. He has been at this a long time, and you can tell the life has taken a toll on him. He has a long scar that runs along his jawline. His hair is salt and pepper. His feet are kicked up on the desk, but he moves them to the ground as we enter.
“Hey Prez.” I walk over behind the desk, and kiss Dray on the cheek.
“Maura, what’s happened?”
“We were leaving Benny’s. Two guys approached me, held a gun to my side, called me a cunt bitch, and started to say something about you. Then, Corbin here went all Rambo.” At my admission of what went down, Prez sits up straighter and Patrick’s and Jules’ body language also changes. They know as well as I do that turning a gun on me is an act of war against the club.
“What did they look like, Maura?” Prez asks.
“One had a hat, the other a hood, didn’t get a good look at their faces.” I admit, much to my dismay.
Corbin speaks up. “They were Hispanic in descent, but had an American accent. One was 5’8; the other 6 foot. I broke one of their noses and the other one’s jaw. So, I would check the hospital for the broken jaw guy. The gun’s safety was on, so this was meant as a threat. It’s the only reason they are still alive. They had a car waiting for them, so they must have been watching for a while. We were in Benny’s for exactly an hour and twenty-three minutes. We rode my bike, not hers which means either they were watching when we got in or someone alerted them to our presence because they would not have known she was there without her bike. Jack, the bartender, did not make any phone calls while we were inside. There were eight other patrons in the bar at the same time, including Jenny, who knew we were going to be there. I got the plate on the car, but it doesn’t matter. It was stolen. I saw the back lock busted out on it. Another confirmation that it was premeditated.”
Holy hell! My Marine notices way more than he lets on. I think I have to pick my jaw up off the floor.
“Corbin Marx, sir.” Corbin sticks his hand out to introduce himself.
“Draygon Matthews.” The two men shake hands and I see a nod from Dray that means a level of respect has been earned.
“Thanks for taking care of our girl.”
“My girl.”
“Excuse me?” Dray asks.
“She’s my girl.”
“Is that so?” Dray looks to me questioningly. I look to Corbin and smile at his admission.
“That’s so,” I confirm.
“Well that’s interesting,” Dray laughs. “Maura, I want you and Rambo over here to hang out until Mickey is back.” He dismisses us. As we walk out the door, I hear him say to Patrick in a seething voice, “Get on the phone. We need to call Church now.” Church is what it is called when the men in the club meet. It’s only for patched in brothers. From experience, I know that this situation is a lot more dangerous than he’s letting on.
“You surprise me,” I say to Corbin.
“Rambo? Really?” He laughs. I am so relieved he can joke right now.
“Well, if the shoe fits! Listen. Before we walk back out there, I want you to know that I've never dated any of these guys. Okay? They’re family to me though, okay? And when my dad gets here, remember he is a bit protective of me.”
“You don’t
need to protect me, Maura. I got this.” He moves his hand back and forth between us. “I got you,” he says, resting his palm against my heart as he says you.
“I’m starting to understand that.”
We sit down at the bar, and Rhonda comes right over to us, throwing coasters down and cracking her gum before she talks, “Whatcha guys drinking?”
Corbin answers, “Two Budweisers, ma’am?”
He orders for me but also looks to me in confirmation that a Bud is what I want. I nod and chuckle to myself. I’m certain that Little Titty isn’t used to being called ma’am. Corbin’s hand rests on my leg. I’m starting to really get used to the way he is always touching me. Dawson walks over to me on my right. Corbin is to my left. Dawson leans one hand on the back of my chair and his other elbow on the bar.
“BabyGirl.” He uses my dad’s endearment for me. “Church just got called. What the fuck is going on? Are you okay?” he says in a soft, caring way. His eyes rake over me to make sure that I'm fine. Corbin’s hand moves off of my leg and to my back in a possessive way.
“I’m fine, Daws. Corbin was there. He took care of me.” Dawson’s eyes squint at the mention of Corbin.
“Thanks for taking care of my Maura.” Dawson says emphasizing my when he says it.
I look at Corbin, “I’m not his Maura. Corbin, this is Daws. Dawson, meet Corbin.”
“I know you’re not his.” Corbin says in a very easy way, meant to both confirm to Dawson that we are together and to let me know that he is calm and in control. I lean my head back and gulp my beer.
Dawson leans even closer to me. “Yeah, Maura?” he seethes.
This just irritates me.
“Yeah, Daws. Now, if you're done, why don’t you go play with your little blonde toy over there. She’s looking a little lonely.”
“But you're so much more fun, Maura.” Corbin looks at Dawson and I can tell he is about to say something.
“Enough, Daws! Go.” I give him a death glare and point to the other side of the bar. He does not want to see my Irish temper come full force.
“Alright Maura, but you and me are having a conversation later.” Dawson turns and goes to the other side of the bar but not without trying to stare Corbin down first. Corbin was not about to be the first man to look away.
“Thank you. I know he was being a total ass.”
“You don’t need to apologize for anyone’s behavior. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He moves his hand up my leg, sending chills up my spine.
“You want to play some pool?” he whispers. I'm getting very turned on.
“I’ll play, but I have to warn you. I’m pretty good.” I rack the balls and make it a point to bend over the table extra slowly as I set them in place. Corbin stands to the side of me and chalks his cue stick. I can feel his eyes lingering on my backside.
“Do you want to break?” I ask.
“Nah, you go ahead. I think I like the view.”
“Is that so?” I flirt and move to the other side of the table to line up my cue ball. When I bend over this time, his eyes are on my cleavage. In the distance, I spot Dawson giving me the stink eye. I quickly avert my gaze right back to Corbin. Right off the bat, I sink a stripe and a solid.
“You choose, Maura. Which will it be? Stripes or solids?”
“Solids.” I say as I lean over the table doing my best to be seductive while taking my next shot. I can see his smirk at my bold behavior. In my attempt to be sexy, I miss an easy shot. Corbin walks around the table surveying his possible shots and begins to wreak havoc on the table, sinking three stripes before missing. I decide that I need to play a little dirty. I sit in front of him on the edge of the pool table, tilting my head back and arching my back as he takes his shot. He leans on the edge of the pool table and the ball completely goes the wrong way. I love it when I make him miss. It makes me feel sexy that I can disrupt him in such a way.
“You’re such a vixen, Maura, but two can play at that game,” he jokes.
I line up my next shot. I’m about to lean over to take the shot when I feel his body press up against my backside. He is not fully aroused but there is something exciting about it as I feel him on my ass and it distracts me enough that I also miss. We go back and forth this way and play several more rounds. He is better than me, but I'm making him work for the win. I like that he isn’t letting me win.
There are so many small things that he does that let me know he sees me as an equal. In the club, women aren’t equal. We have our place, which is important, but it is a man’s world. Corbin makes me feel like I’m valued and respected. He is man enough to be okay with me being a strong woman. It’s just another way he is breaking down my walls.
As we are playing, I notice more and more people showing up. I see Adrian, Prez’s ole lady, make her way into the clubhouse. She has a ton of groceries with her that she has to have Skaggs and a few other prospects help her unload. Ashley, Patrick’s wife, comes barreling in with their almost 8 year old twins, Austin and Becca. Lea, Big Titty Rhonda, and Erin, all of whom are bar sluts, also make an entrance. By the amount of people making their way to the clubhouse, I can tell that this situation is huge.
Dawson keeps his distance from us while we play, which I'm grateful for.
Never in my life would I have imagined feeling this much ease with a man here. For the most part, despite some looks from the brothers, this has gone very smoothly. Corbin is sitting against the wall, with one leg up on the bench and the other on the ground. I sit between his legs and lean back. We joke back and forth. I point out who people are.
“Well, you already met Patrick and Jules. There’s Daws, Skaggs and Jared. The boobs in between the guys is Big Titty Rhonda.”
“You don’t actually call her that to her face, do you?”
“Well yeah, we do.” He laughs at that. I share stories of growing up here.
“It sounds like it got pretty wild here sometimes.”
“You don’t even know the half of it. God! Dawson must have been nine and me only seven the first time I witnessed someone getting their dick sucked. We snuck out of our room to get a snack and walked in on a party. I remember Dawson being transfixed and me screaming until finally he pulled me by the hand, and we ran into the kitchen. That was my first sex ed lesson.”
“That’s horrible. Mine was the good old fashion boys talking about boobs on the playground.” Corbin tells me about places he has visited; Greece being one of his favorites.
“The water is so clear, and the culture is just something you have to experience. How about you? Have you been anywhere?”
“I’ve been to Ireland once, but I was young and don’t remember it all that well. Have you ever been there?”
“I’ve been to England, but never made it to the island. I’ve heard that it’s beautiful. Maybe we can visit sometime.” My heart swells at the idea of us traveling together. Traveling is something I've always wanted to do and the idea of doing it with Corbin is even better.
I check the clock, noting several hours have passed. Time is ticking by quickly. Little Titty Rhonda stops by and asks us if we are hungry then brings us pasta in white styrofoam bowls. Smells of pasta and cigarettes blend in the air. The room is filled with people, half of them stuffing their face. I can’t help but look around and smile. Yes, there is drama in air but this room is filled with people I Iove. It isn’t lost on me how easily Corbin is adjusting. I know this would be intense for any man. I’m just glad this one seems to be strong enough.
Around eight, I hear the rumble of pipes, and I know that Dad’s back. I watch Patrick get up and go outside to meet the men. No doubt going outside to fill them in on what happened. I sit up, so I'm not leaning back in Corbin’s legs. I know what’s coming.
“Cunt Bitch? Are ye fecking kidding me!” I hear my dad roar, then shout in anger, “A gun!” Something loud crashes outside. He. Is. So. Pissed. He comes barreling through the door straight for me. Corbin takes notice. I stand up and open my arms.
“Oh bloody hell, Baby Girl! Are you all right?” Dad hugs me and then pulls away grabbing both sides of my face. His eyes dart back and forth staring at my blues. I swear this man can read my thoughts by looking in my eyes.
Mickeyism #29
You can see the truth through someone’s eyes, but only when there is something to be told.
He looks to Corbin, who has also stood up and he drops my face from his hands.
“You’re fecking my daughter!” He roars again in a thick Irish accent. His fists ball. I have to move fast.
“No, Daddy! Mickey, look at me. Look. At. Me.” When I call him Mickey, he knows I am serious.
“First, I’m okay. I’m more than okay, and I wouldn’t be if it was not for him. He broke both of those guys’ faces. Second, his name is Corbin and I really care about him. He is the reason for my more than okay.”
My dad opens and closes his fist several times, trying to calm himself down. I see him start to soften a little.
“They pulled a gun on ye?”
“They did. Corbin took it from him, and pistol whipped his ass.”
“They’re going to pay. You know what this means right?”
“I do.” The tension in the air dissipates. Anyone who was watching our show has moved on. Little Titty Rhonda brings a bottle of Irish Whiskey.
“You took care of me Baby Girl?” Dad looks to Corbin.
“I did, and I won't hesitate to do it again.”
“You military?”
“Marine.”
“Active?”
“Yes, I’m on leave right now.”
“For how long?”
“Couple weeks.” I see where my dad is going with this, and I don’t like this line of questioning.
“So, what do you plan on doing with my daughter once you are gone?” Bam and there it is! Dad knows how to find the problem in any situation and get right to it.
“With respect sir, Maura and I are figuring everything out. I know you raised a special woman. She is smart, sassy, drinks like a fish, is incredibly beautiful, and I don’t plan to let her go so easily.” Corbin’s words affect me, and I can’t help but be smacked in the face with the fact that we are temporary, even if he says we will figure this out.
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