"For this, Dallas, in this I should say, you can call me Trey." His voice was in the lower registers and sexy as hell especially when combined with his full faced smile that exposed his dimples. Devastating dimples that only added another level to the heat he carried.
"I'll look forward to Friday," he said, with another brief clasp of my shoulder before he wended his way out the front door.
I stared at the wooden portal a long time after he left, my mind whirling. In the scant time I'd been around him, he didn't fit the image I had in my mind of a biker. Which, I admitted to myself, was by and large because of whispered conversations with my friends in high school. He hadn't been dirty but had smelled clean. There had been no moves to get into my pants and in actuality he'd treated both me and my parents with respect which went directly against what Jenny Talbot had claimed was true about men in motorcycle clubs.
Trey Jackson confused me and I stood at the door for a good three minutes trying to work out that perplexity before I turned to go strip and remake my father's bed. But my mind wasn't on what I was doing.
It was filled with red-brown eyes, the best color of brown, as they'd stared into mine making me feel like a girl, a sexy and pretty girl.
A feeling I hadn't had in a long, long time.
Chapter Four
Dare pulled into the compound, noticing only a few bikes in the forecourt but knew it would be almost filled within fifteen minutes. The crew worked long and hard at their day jobs but took their club's work even more seriously. Since he'd called an emergency meeting, he knew each and every member would be on sight and on time. He walked up to the bar and saw Carly had taken over Dee's duties.
"Yo, Huff," he offered, sliding onto the stool next to the huge blonde. "What's doing?" He watched as Carly poured him a very healthy glass of Avion Silver tequila without him even having to ask.
"Little shit has started getting physical," Huff advised, turning his frosty mug of beer round and round on the coaster. "Hate the first days, man."
"Physical, how?"
"Lock came back wearing his dinner. Said he cussed her out, threw the tray at her which prompted her to take his skinny ass down. He's got a new lip twice as big as his old one and possibly a black eye for his trouble." Neither one could help their chuckles.
Yeah, Lock wouldn't hesitate to retaliate and for a girl she could pack a wallop even by just slapping. He made a mental note to check on the kid after the meeting and ride his ass about getting fucked up by a chick.
As predicted, the clubhouse filled up fast and Trey was one of the last ones to enter.
"Dare, you called it so you lead it," Trey yelled to be heard over the noise of the crowd which quieted at the sound of the Prez's voice. Dare waited for the double knock of Trey's gavel.
Dare nodded to Carly who removed herself from the main room, another couple of the Honeys exiting with her. Club's business was for members only and in spite of the times, their club didn't include women on the lists.
"We've got someone trying to move in. There's been sightings of girls working our streets and some deals going down our acreage." All eyes were on him as he gave them time to process the information. It had been more than a few years since another club or gang had tried to infiltrate the ten mile radius the Hellions held in Missoula. And since Trey had helped bring the club out of prostitution and drugs, they hadn't had to worry about either.
"The boys who observed this shit politely asked the players to move their fucking business elsewhere, but that didn't seem to stop it for more than a night. Think we need to figure out how we're gonna play this." Dare allowed his eyes to roam the ranks. There was a lot of experience in the room even though most of the old guard were gone.
"How many times?" Stick yelled from the back.
"Twice…" Dare began but was cut off when Trey growled, "One fucking time is too many."
"Any word from the street?" Silo called from the back of the pack.
"Heard the Ghosts were swelling their ranks with new blood. Maybe they've got a few with some lofty ideas," someone to Dare's right shot back. The Ghosts were another biker club in town but as their name suggested, they were heard of but not much seen. Basically, they were nothing more than a group of guys that rode motorcycles and liked to get fucked up together. They created mayhem with their parties and attitudes around town but other than the occasional glimpse stayed well enough away from the Hellions.
"Them Asians have been getting bolder," came another voice, which Dare thought might have come from one of the recruits. "Thought they were only laundering money through the mini-marts but maybe they're thinking to move into other stuff."
"Fat Jack?" Dice yelled from the left side of the room. "We know he's already selling gash and trash from his titty bar maybe he's taking it to the streets."
"And, rumor has it he's taken on a partner too," Huff said from Dare's side.
"You think a partner would help Fat Jack grow a pair after we took the original set?" Trey's voice called out. The subsequent laughter helped to dispense some of the tension in the room full of men.
"He'd have to since the partner ain't got none," came Huff's reply. "The fuckin' partner's a full on bitch of a bull-dyke according to a couple of the dancers."
"Here's how it's gonna go down. Starting immediately, I want two teams of two members patrolling between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. Those teams will engage with said activity and gather info as well as keep up the nice-nice by asking them to fucking leave and stay gone. You with me?"
The room was a sea of nodding heads.
"We'll update on Sunday morning and go from there. Also, we've got a kid on lock-down in six. That room will be unavailable until his six months are up and, just to let you know, he's scheduled for the full program," Trey announced.
A number of hands performed fist-pumps. "Six months of free laundry service!" one of the guys crowed in delight. One of the responsibilities the kid would be performing would be doing laundry for any and all of the single men in the club, which usually meant doing at least six loads a day, seven days a week. If the wash wasn't done correctly or to the member's satisfaction, the kid would also learn the ins-and-outs of how to work an iron. And the Hellion brothers were picky about their threads.
"I'll post a schedule and expect you to know where you're supposed to be and when," Trey finished. "If there's no other business, I call this meeting adjourned." The slap of the gavel was loud in the quiet room.
Catching a chin lift from the Prez, Dare held his place at the bar and waited for the other man as he wove through the crowd of men exiting.
"Good call, Trey," Huff offered as Trey went behind the bar to grab his personal bottle of High West American Prairie Reserve. Almost all the booze in the bar was free if it was of the no-call variety as was the beer, but if a member had a taste for his own particular blend, they bought it themselves and kept it behind the bar, knowing full well no other member would touch it without getting permission first.
"How's the kid?" Trey asked carefully, pouring two fingers over the ice in his glass.
Dare recapped Drake's evening which had Trey laughing so hard, he had to put the cut-crystal tumbler back down on the bar.
"Aw, shit. I fucking love first days," Trey exclaimed when he could finally talk. Huff shot his eyes to Dare, a look that Trey caught. "What? Did I miss something?"
"Huff here was just saying the opposite," Dare advised with a smile.
"You gotta be kiddin', amigo. This shit is good. We get to fuck with his head and scare him so bad his little balls will be trying to crawl back up into his body!"
"Yeah, but the mouth on these fucking punks nowadays. Makes a man want to…"
"It's just talk, Huff. That's all they are. Nothing but talk." Dare threw his two cents in.
Trey blinked at the large blonde man over the rim of him glass. "You don't have to be a part, Huff. Know this is hard on you, man, so stay out of it. I've got enough people that can work him."
Huff'
s eyes were on the remaining inches of his beer.
"I met the folks tonight. Dad's only got one-arm and is completely blind. The mom's got medical issues too, if her blue nail-beds and lack of color in her face are any indication. The only person in that family is a daughter who's trying to handle it all." Trey didn't usually take the time to explain himself to anyone, but Ben had been Huff's younger brother and he knew each one of the young cases HMC took on hit the man hard. There was always the possibility of another kid taking his life before the new knowledge and new way of handling themselves kicked in. "The punk's escalating and about to age out. It's now or never for him. And I think we are just the fuckers to pry his head from his own ass."
Huff seemed to take Trey's words on before he rapped his knuckles on the bar. "I'll steer clear then." Dare and Trey's eyes followed the large man as he lifted himself from the stool, picked up his glass to drain the last bit in it. They exchanged chin lifts before Huff exited.
"That stuff about Sheridan's home life true?" Dare asked after the door closed.
Trey leaned his elbows on the bar and nodded before adding, "unfortunately."
"Shit…" Dare drawled. "Think Silo knows?"
"Why would he? According to him, she's the best he's got on all his crews. Knows her shit, doesn't create drama with the boys and keeps her personal issues to herself. A model em-ploy-yee."
Dare eyed the man across the bar who was his friend, his boss and his brother after catching a tone in his voice. "Seems like one little gal is getting a promotion. Or is there more?"
"Yeah to the promotion part," Trey replied before finishing his own drink. It was the breathed, "we'll see about the rest," which had Dare almost choking on his tequila.
"C'mon, let's go see if we can make numb-nuts piss himself," Trey offered.
"Right behind you, Prez," Dare said with a smile.
He had a feeling things were going to get pretty interesting around the yard over the next six months.
*.*.*.*.*
In the course of a given day, I didn't get a whole lot of 'me' time that wasn't spent with my eyes closed, but I'd carved out thirty minutes of each and every workday before the beginning of my shift just for that.
It was a time to think, to sort the 'needed to be done' from the 'should be done' crap. To reacquaint myself with the week's various appointments or to comprise a list of groceries that needed to be fetched before I'd take my tired ass home.
It was a chance to fucking breathe.
All accompanied by the driving beats of old-school 70's rock, a genre I'd stumbled on when I'd been fourteen. A smart-ass punk of a girl who'd gotten caught dead to rights mouthing off to her mother by her hard-assed dad. The punishment? Clean out the garage. Which was where I'd found boxes of old vinyl albums that had belonged to my grandfather. But it wasn't until I'd uncovered the old console stereo and put one on that I'd found my outlet—music that spoke to my heart in such a way that made the spirit trapped inside me want to soar as high and as free as it possibly could.
And even though I'd never had a chance to let that spirit out, the music stayed providing the hope that maybe someday I'd get the chance.
I eased myself out of the cab at 5.25 a.m. and pulled my tool belt on, adjusting its weight as it sat low on my hips. Between the clinking of my wallet's chain and the clunking of the various tools, my entry into the main HC building was never a quiet one. After punching in, I made my way past the different office doors and over where the rest of the crew were but before I got there I heard a sharp whistle.
"Sheridan! Office now!" Came the bark. Mr. Kettering wanted to see me and I hadn't a clue why.
"Sir?" I asked from the doorway, my hands moving to the tools to still their swaying. When I first started, I had bruises all around my waist from the heaviness of wearing the belt. But I'd grown a bit and my skin had obviously toughened up because unless I fell or bumped up against something hard, my hips remained without mark.
"Cop a squat," my boss instructed from across his desk as he pulled out some papers from a folder. Now his desk looked like a desk should, covered in all sorts of shit.
I took a seat across from him and waited.
"You've been promoted, Sheridan. You're now the lead of your crew, which is still working the Caldwell development. Your increase in pay will be on your next check, retroactive to today. At your level, you are expected to attend bi-monthly staff meetings and submit weekly status reports every Friday. You'll be expected to be a part of performance evaluations as well as all hiring and firing decisions for your nine-man group." His voice was machine-gun fast and my mind was racing to catch up to his words.
But all comprehension had basically left after the word 'promoted'.
"What?" I whispered.
A scowl dropped over Mr. Kettering's face at my one word question. "Did I stutter?"
"No, sir. But you were talking kind of quick," I replied on a swallow. For whatever reason, my mind chose that moment to remember that Mr. Jackson had called him by another name. 'Silo' I think he'd said. Which totally fit him since he was so tall and sported a completely smooth head. I didn't know if the chrome-dome was natural or done with a razor. He also had a Hellion's vest hanging off the back of his office chair. A fact I'd never noticed before.
The sigh that came out of his mouth gave evidence that his patience was already used up even at 5.30 in the morning.
"I'll try again since you and those of your persuasion tend to listen at a different speed." Oh yeah, the patience was gone and by his tone, he was starting to lean into the pissed off arena. "You. Promoted. More responsibilities and duties. More pay. I'll have Rita get the specifics to you. Questions?"
I shook my head. I wasn't going to be the one to set him off that day.
"Fine. Congrats and all that. Now getcha ass out there," he bellowed as he reached for his phone.
"Yes, sir. And, ah, thank you," I mumbled, clanking my way out of his office and over to the truck to where the boys were waiting.
I slowly walked the thirty to forty yards to where our truck was waiting, my mind going a million miles an hour. To say I was shocked at being promoted went without saying. I knew I was good, better than most of the guys on my crew. I'd always figured my gender would hold me back. But I also knew I had the respect of my crew, men that had come to see me not as a girl but as a co-worker willing to work her own fair share of the daily workload.
"So, did he want to fuck it or chew it?" Danny asked with a laugh as I pulled my hard hat out of one of the trucks side compartments.
"What?"
"Your ass. Did he want to fuck it or chew it?"
"Neither." I was used to the rough talk of the guys. I'd grown up around it since my dad had been a sailor and still cussed like one. In most instances, I didn't take offense and gave as good as I got. Unless the shit got a little too personal or a little too one-on-one then I shut it down.
It wasn't until both trucks were loaded and the crew had strapped themselves in that I told them. "They gave me lead."
"Shit, Sheridan…"
"A fucking lady boss. Goddamn, it's not bad enough I've gotta hand my balls to the bitch at home?"
"Last break'll probably be called afternoon tea or some shit…"
I knew I'd catch this kind of crap for the next few days so I let the remarks fly. But I also knew the guys I worked with were, for the most part, good men who worked hard. I'd give them a couple of days to settle into it, let them see that nothing had changed. And then use one of my size sevens to stomp out any remaining shit. I had their respect as a crew member and didn't think it would change much going forward as the one that would sign off on their timesheets, approve their vacations and get up in their face if they didn't give 110% to their work.
Settling myself into my seat of the truck, I latched in before realizing we weren't moving. I looked around and saw every face in the crew was turned in my direction. It took me a couple of beats before I realized what the delay was.
"Let's roll, boys," I said feeling the grin, the same grin that was echoed on each man's mug, lift both my lips and my spirits. "We've got work to do."
It was, after all, the crew leader's job to get the ball rolling each morning.
Chapter Five
Why'd you say you'd bring a movie? Trey thought wildly, standing in front of the automated DVD rental booth. The old man couldn't fucking see for Christ's sake and who knew what the sick wife would prefer in the way of flicks.
He heard someone clear their throat behind him as a polite reminder to get the lead out of his ass and just fucking choose. Pressured now by both his thoughts and the crowd that seemed to be growing behind him, Trey punched at the touch screen and grabbed the movie from the dispenser. He just hoped it was appropriate but had no fear that Dallas would let him know if it wasn't.
Dallas, huh?
She'd crept in and around his thoughts for the last few days as he'd started noticing her existence when she was on compound grounds. Her big ass F-150 for one. She was tiny but that damn truck wasn't. And he couldn't help but note that she liked old rock-and-roll played really loud when her ass was in it.
Silo said she hadn't seemed overly thrilled by the promo but, knowing Si, he'd probably barked it towards her at warp speed only giving enough info to say he'd done it before he turned it all over to Rita.
Trey had tried to make a point of catching up with her at the end of her shift to discuss her shithead brother, but that girl was up and gone as soon as her timecard was stamped. He knew she had a lot of responsibility at home so he couldn't begrudge her hauling her ass home as soon as possible. But how was a guy supposed to get his foot in the door with her if she didn't give him a chance?
Maybe tonight's date would help clear the way.
Wait…shit. What?
Foot in the door? A date?
The Possibility of Trey (A Hellion MC Novel) Page 4