Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Grinder has been silent during all the fuckery. But now, he sits forward and narrows his eyes. “Who’re you calling neutered?”
Ravage backs a step away from the table. “Brothers and ol’ ladies are invited,” he says in a wounded tone. As if the lack of an invitation was Grinder’s issue. “I want everyone to see the new clubhouse.”
“If we’ve already seen it, can we skip it?” I ask, raising my hand to increase the asshole factor.
“No!” Rav all but stamps his damn foot on the floor.
“Bro, you’re being creepy. You plannin’ to drug us and handcuff us to a wall in the basement or something?” Murphy asks.
“Don’t give him ideas,” Rooster whispers, loud enough for all of us to hear.
“Rav’s right.” Rock stops for a long breath as if he can’t believe the words marching out of his mouth. “I expect every upstate brother to make an appearance.”
Rock’s word may be the law around here, but I still want to put my fist in his throat for ordering us to attend Rav’s party.
“Uh, Rock,” Dex says. “I’ll come over after CB closes, but it’ll be late—”
“You’ve already been there plenty of times,” Rock says. “You’re excused.” He looks down the table at Z. “Obviously, the invitation is extended to our downstate brothers as well.”
Z grins. “Great. I expect every single one of you fucks to be at this party, too.” He nods at Rav. “That little chucklefuck campaigned hard for the new clubhouse so all you assholes can have a child-free zone to crash at when you’re up here visiting.”
Rav preens like a horny peacock.
“Uh…” Rooster raises his hand. “I’d like to crash at the man-child-free zone if that’s all right with you.”
Z glares at him.
“Fine.” Rooster rolls his eyes. “Shelby was working on a costume anyway.” He glances at Grinder and smirks. “She and Serena were brainstorming costumes together.”
A smile twitches at the corners of Grinder’s mouth. “I know what both of them chose.”
Ravage presses his palms together like he’s praying to the lord of deviant bikers. “Please let them be slutty.”
Rooster jumps up, knocking his chair backward.
I smother laughter behind my fist.
“Say that again,” Rooster challenges.
“What?” Ravage’s eyes widen as he backs up. “It’s a legit category of costume.” He searches the table for someone to agree with him. “You know, slutty nurse, slutty teacher,” for some reason he shoots a pleading look at Teller, “slutty lawyer?”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Teller growls.
“Wrath should go as the Jolly Green Giant,” Sparky suggests, shooting a worried frown at Ravage, then Teller.
“Why?” Dex smirks at me. “He’s neither jolly nor green.”
I clap my hands together with a crisp smack. “How ’bout I go as someone who cracks your skull like an egg?” I point at Rav, so it’s clear I’m not threatening Dex.
“The Hulk?” Stash shrugs. “That works too.”
“Boss!” Sparky waves his hand around to get Rock’s attention. “You should go as Darth Vader.” He points wildly in Teller’s direction, in case we’re not all clear on why that’s an excellent choice for Rock.
“Only if Charlotte goes in a Princess Leia bikini,” Stash adds under his breath.
“You’re fucking begging me to beat your ass,” Teller shoots back.
“Nah, she’s housing twins,” Ravage says with a nod that suggests he thinks he’s being helpful. “I don’t think you’d be able to find a bikini—”
“Are you itching to breathe through a tube for Halloween, brother?” Murphy punches his fist into his open palm. “Because we can make that happen right now.”
“I just meant—”
“For fuck’s sake,” Dex snaps, cutting Ravage’s explanation off. “When you’re standing in a hole, stop fucking digging, Rav.”
“The deeper you dig, the more painful your beating’s gonna be, brother,” Sparky says with a solemn nod.
I shift my gaze to Rock, who has one hand to his temple, head bowed. Then I notice his shoulders shaking. “All right, enough.” He barely conceals his laughter. “I think Hope’s planning to go as Sandy—”
I burst out laughing. “From Grease? That’s…perfect. Truly. Wait, good girl Sandy or bad girl Sandy? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Perfect either way.”
Rock glares at me.
“I mean,” Z draws the words out slowly, sits back and rubs a sarcastic hand over his hairless chin. “You’re already halfway to a Danny Zuko costume with the way you dress, Rock.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one sporting the late-seventies John Travolta hair,” Rooster points out. “Prez,” he adds in a semi-respectful tone.
Z runs his hands over his head. “I do not.”
“This is fun and whatnot,” Grinder says in his least amused grumble. “Everyone’s endless knowledge of useless movie trivia is impressive, but can we move things along?”
“Food,” Murphy says to Ravage. “You got that all sorted?”
“Of course you’re worried about the menu,” Ravage mutters.
“Just for that, I’m not gonna try to stop Teller when he kicks your ass after church,” Murphy says, sitting back with a smirk.