Or, if we were being honest here, her pants. I wasn’t an angel.
The second time the mystery woman came into the bar, I was ready for her.
At least, I thought I was.
“I have a lukewarm beer sitting right out here for you, with your name on it,” I said, opening the bottle with a flourish. It wasn’t hard to dig into my memory to recall what she’d been drinking the last time I saw her, even if it was just last week.
“Very funny,” she said, taking a sip, knowing it was perfectly chilled before she even picked it up, condensation sliding down the glass.
“I mean, if that’s the only one you’re planning on having this afternoon, I’m sure it’ll be lukewarm at some point,” I said, polishing a non-existent spot out of the surface of the bar, pretending like I was busy.
“I’ll let you know,” she assured me a clear dismissal. I was never super good at recognizing those, though.
“I’m Ace, by the way,” I said. “In case you need anything else.”
Her lip curled. “Ace? Really?”
“My hand to God.”
“Your mother give you that name?”
Who pissed in her cereal this morning? “No. My mother gave me another name. One I don’t like as well as the name my friends gave me.”
The mystery woman’s blue eyes sparkled with something close to mischief. “I don’t know if you could call them friends if they tell you referring to yourself as ‘Ace’ is acceptable behavior.”
“Now, I can stomach you making fun of my name, but I can’t stomach you making fun of my friends. They may be idiots sometimes, but they’re the best guys around. Family.”
“Good friends are hard to find,” she agreed, sounding almost reluctant to do so.
“Is that why you’re in town?” I asked. “Visiting friends?” I was just fishing around. She’d been in the bar twice, now, and both times had arrived and departed alone in spite of my best efforts.
“No,” she said, pursing her lips as she considered her answer. “I’m on vacation.”
“Strange place to vacation in,” I said. “I would’ve pegged you for a snow bunny. Skiing has to be great in Taos right about now.”
She lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Skiing’s not my thing. Bike doesn’t do well in the snow, besides.”
“That’s right.” I leaned forward, over the bar, and tapped the top of her helmet. “You been riding long?”
“Long enough.”
“Gone on any memorable trips?”
“The one I’m on right now is pretty memorable.”
“Can’t beat New Mexico.”
“It’s got some pretty nice open roads.”
“I know some nice rides around the area,” I said. “My friends the ones who gave me the name you like so much we have a motorcycle club. I could show you.”
She wrinkled her nose a little at me. “Motorcycle club? Are you telling me you’re in a gang?”
“Did I say gang?”
“You said motorcycle club. I inferred gang.”
Jesus. I couldn’t even talk about a shared interest without her grinding her boot into my face.
“We’re just a bunch of guys who like motorcycles. The club’s a way to socialize.”
“You can’t socialize without leather vests covered in cheesy patches?”
“Am I wearing a leather vest?”
Her wide blue eyes might’ve signaled innocence to any other person, but to me, they showed nothing but insolence. I blundered onward because I had nothing to lose.
“The club means different things to different people,” I said. “I like it because it sort of formalizes things among us. We pay dues, and that money goes to different things, like trips or fees at events or upkeep at this bar.”
“The club owns the bar?”
“It’s a club bar,” I said, nodding. “We share the same name. Horizon MC.”
“Sounds like a place you’d go for rehab.”
“Poke fun all you want,” I said with some dignity. “The club’s a good thing. The guys in the club…they’re family. You might not understand that concept, as rude as you are, but some people actually want to be around other people.”
She blinked swiftly, surprised. “Ouch, Ace. That one stung a little bit.”
“If you were a little bit nicer, maybe you could find a club to belong to.”
“What, so I could run drugs and guns and be in trouble with the law all the time? You’re crazy.”
I laughed at her. “You watch too much TV.”
“You’re trying to tell me it’s not like that?”
“I don’t have to try. It’s not. We have fundraisers. We do good in the community. And we genuinely enjoy spending time together. The dues we pay to be a part of the club can also be used for emergencies.”
“And what kind of emergencies does the club face?” She pressed her lips together, the corners of her mouth twitching in mirth. “Rival gangs trying to carve out a corner of your turf for themselves?” I was glad she was finding so much glee in this. So, so glad. It was an absolute joy.
“No. One of our members, for example, lost someone close to him. We pooled our funds and helped out with the funeral.”
“Well, that’s noble.”
“They’re like family to me. They really are.”
“Family you have to pay to hang around?”
I exhaled with a whoosh of air. “What is so hard to understand about the club? Do you not have anyone in your life who can stand to be that close to you? I mean, I’d understand, since you’re so difficult.”
Her face was still open, but I noticed that she was clutching the neck of the beer bottle so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. “I might’ve used to have that. Not so long ago. But not anymore.”
I could’ve asked a follow-up question, because there clearly was something there, but I found that I didn’t care. I didn’t give a single fuck about who she might’ve lost to make her act this way because she was so clearly enjoying taking a huge shit on my guys, and they meant the world to me.
I loved women. I really did. But I’d never met a single one I’d wanted to put before the guys I rode with.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” I said.
“I don’t need anything from you,” she retorted, her voice sharp.
“Another beer, is what I meant by that,” I sighed, only barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes at her. Was she that arrogant that she thought every word directed at her was a come-on? Okay, if I was being perfectly honest, I had been pretty obsessed with her. But if she’d been beautiful and cloying in her mystery the first day I’d interacted with her, this second time had taken a real nosedive.
I was saved from further words when a group of regulars strolled in, raucous and ready to drink. Soon enough, I was pouring shots and knocking a couple back with them just to numb the strange ache that had taken up residence inside me. I tried to bury myself with the regulars, immersing my attention in their stories and tall tales, some of which I’d heard too many times to count. But I couldn’t keep from watching the redhead from the corner of my eye, the level of beer in her bottle growing lower and lower, counting down the minutes when I’d interact with her again. Would she ratchet up her venom, now that she had an audience? Or would she put on a show of sweetness?
Neither, as it turned out. I watched her as she tipped the last of her beer down her throat, replaced the empty bottle on the bar top, slap a couple of dollars next to it, and pushed herself back and off the barstool without so much as a glance in my direction. As she moved to the door, it was like we had a string stretched between us. I couldn’t resist trailing along behind her, squinting as she threw open the door and let the golden light of the setting sun filter into the darkened bar. She’d parked her bike right behind mine, on the other side of the street, and I had to admire a nice ride when I saw one she clearly knew what she liked, and kept the bike in order.
“Didn’t
I leave the correct change?” she called across the street, securing her helmet under her chin.
I jumped a little, gritting my teeth at getting caught like this. This was definitely stalker territory, following a woman whose name I didn’t even know out of the bar.
“You’re fine,” I said. “I just…wanted to invite you to an event that the club is going to be hosting over the weekend.”
She wrinkled her nose. “An event? Your motorcycle club is hosting an event?”
“Yeah. It’s a fundraiser.” It was stupid. I hadn’t really meant to invite her. I just thought I needed a reason for following her out here.
“A fundraiser.” Repeated. Flat.
“Don’t believe me?” I pointed down the street. “There’s a park there. Not much to look at. We’re having a cookout and party to raise funds to revamp it. Part of downtown revitalization efforts.”
“If you say so,” she said, taking a long, dubious look at the crumbling main street and its mass of abandoned buildings. She kicked a leg over her bike and started it, revving it as she blew by me and down the street, making some kind of point I wasn’t sure I understood. I didn’t understand my own actions, standing out in front of the bar like a fool, inviting a woman to a charity event she wasn’t going to attend. If the rest of the guys could see me now, they wouldn’t let me live this down. I wasn’t sure Iwas going to let myself live this down the woman I couldn’t even get a name from, a game I had apparently failed to learn how to play.
I stood out there until the sound of her engine faded into the wind, the old buildings casting long shadows in the streets, air chilling wherever the sun didn’t hit. Tonight was going to be cold again, and I wondered if I could find someone to warm my bed, someone to distract me from the woman I couldn’t understand. There was something bigger there than me failing to relate to a woman so thoroughly. Something that kept me dwelling on it, and kept her coming back.
When I shuffled back into the bar, intent on drowning my sorrows, I realized that Jack had slipped in through the back, jerking his chin at me from his customary spot in the booth.
“When did you get here?” I asked, detouring from the bar and approaching him. I hoped it wasn’t in time to see my latest episode of crashing and burning with the redhead.
“Just now,” he told me. “Passed the redhead on my way in. Looks good on a bike.”
“Yeah, she does.”
“She got a name yet?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.” He laughed at me, shaking his head. “Is this your most epic fail yet on the dating scene?”
“I haven’t failed anything yet. I think she’ll be back.”
But Jack could see straight through my bravado. “Better keep this quiet, Ace. Small town like Rio Seco, word gets around pretty fast. You don’t want to ruin that reputation you’re so careful about.”
“Man, at this point, I’m willing to open things up.”
“What do you mean?”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Have at her if you think you have a better chance at cracking whatever her case is.”
Jack laughed again. “No way. I’m having fun watching you struggle.”
“You’re cruel. Terribly cruel.”
“I’m benevolent,” he tried to argue, ruining the earnestness of the words by cackling evilly. “Mostly. Here, I’ll tell you what I’ll do, just to show you what a nice guy I am. Take the night off. Park your ass in this booth. Get drunk with me.”
“What’s the occasion?” Chuck asked, sliding in behind me to scoot around next to Jack.
“Ace still doesn’t know the redhead’s name,” Jack informed him, glee coloring his words.
“Wow, really?” I blinked at him. “Benevolent. That’s not what benevolent sounds like.”
“Poor Ace,” Chuck said. “You giving him the night off, then?”
“Trying to,” Jack said easily, putting his hands behind his head and kicking back in the booth. “What do you say?”
“Got to earn my keep around here,” I said. “Maybe it’d be better to try and stay busy.”
“I’ll keep you busy taking shots,” he cajoled. “Let Haley take the bar.”
Chuck laughed. “Keep that up and Ace will be out of a job.”
Haley took that opportunity to pass by. “I could put you out of work any day, old man.”
“See?” Chuck beamed like a proud papa he was so transparent. If he couldn’t see the gigantic crush he had on her, the rest of us certainly could.
“We should do a popularity contest,” Haley suggested. “See who’s the most-loved bartender at Horizon.”
“Hell, no,” I groused. “You’re prettier than I am.”
“Damn straight,” she said with a decisive nod. “And I’m more liberal with the mixed drinks.”
“Are you hearing this, bud?” I asked Jack, gesturing in faux exasperation. “This pretty young thing’s costing you money.”
“Careful, or I’ll run the numbers,” he warned me. “See what kinds of profits we pull in on days you work the bar versus days when Haley works it.”
“Don’t do that, or I really will be out of a job,” I said, mildly worried. People loved Haley.
“I think this bar’s big enough for the both of you,” Jack said. “Haley, you good with taking the bar tonight?”
“You know it,” she said with a sassy swish of her hips. “You sick or what, Ace?”
“Lady trouble,” Jack put delicately.
“Ooh, that redhead?” Haley pursed her lips in sympathy. “Good luck.”
“Does everyone know?” I sighed, hiding my face with my hands.
“Keep the drinks coming over here,” Jack recommended as Chuck slapped my back in what I was sure he thought was a comforting way.
“Please,” I coughed, arching away from Chuck.
“Aw, what’s this?” Brody complained, sitting heavily in the booth beside Jack. “I have Ace behind the bar tonight, not Haley.”
“Executive decision,” Jack said as Chuck dragged me into the booth. “Ace is having a sick day.”
“Apparently,” I threw in, since Brody was technically my boss. Even if Jack was his boss.
“You’re such a micromanager,” Brody teased Jack. “How about you make the schedules for now on, seeing as how you keep changing them?”
“Or you could just fire Brody,” I suggested, keen to keep my job, and regretting that I’d agreed to take tonight off on a whim, in despair about the redhead. Maybe she’d take pity on me if she realized how much grief she was causing me.
“Are we having a party?” Sloan had arrived, squeezing in to the booth, meaning that the gang was all here. It was a little too cozy with all five of us sitting in there, but that meant we were complete, as hokey as that sounded.
“If tonight gets busy, I’m going to have a hard time manning the bar and the floor,” Haley reminded us, setting a couple of pitchers of beer and five cups on the table in front of us.
“I’ll step in, if that happens,” I promised her.
“Or we’ll make Jack do it, since he’s so interested in business decisions lately,” Brody threw in.
“I don’t know shit about making drinks,” Jack said placidly. “I just have enough money to throw around to make all this magic happen.”
“Kind of incestuous, if you think hard about it, the three of you working together,” Chuck said as Haley left. “Makes me glad I’m a mechanic and not a server, working with you all at the bar.”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think we’d get anything near the kinds of sales we usually get with you on the floor,” Jack told him.
“I’m offended,” Chuck said. “I think I’d be pretty good at it. You’ve just never given me a chance.”
“I thought you didn’t even want to work here,” Jack said, cocking his head.
“Well, I didn’t until I discovered you had no faith in my skills as a cocktail waitress.”
We all laugh
ed at that mental image. Chuck was a big guy with rough hands. The idea of a wine stem between his thick fingers or a tray of drinks balanced on their calloused tips was about as incongruous as it got. He was a poet when it came to engines and body work and all things mechanical, but Jack was right he’d be out of place trying to tend to the drunken masses here.
I liked having the guys around me. We gathered in twos and threes on a regular basis, but it felt like it had to be an official Horizon MC thing to get all five of us in the same place. We met officially at least once a month more if we had an event planned and tried to gather up to go on long rides every week or two. We all had our separate lives to lead, though, even if motorcycles and giving back to the community were near the top of everyone’s lists.
“We should make this a regular thing,” I said.
“Make what a regular thing?” Jack asked me.
“This. All of us coming to the bar and just getting drunk.”
Brody scoffed at me. “That already is a regular thing.”
“I know, but all together. Like this. Mandatory socializing.”
“I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” Jack said, laughing. “We don’t need any additional encouragement to drink around here.”
“But I like seeing everyone in an informal setting,” I said. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing to plan. The only thing we have to do is drink.”
“Should we make these informal gatherings thrice weekly?” Sloan asked. “Is that too much to hope for?”
“I was going to suggest meeting every day that ends in a ‘Y,’” Chuck said with a cheeky grin. “Very, very official informal beer meetings.”
“Very important for club morale,” Brody said, making Jack laugh and shake his head.
HORIZON MC Page 3