Skeeter walks up to what’s left of the bike and squats down.
“Gas leak, you say? Must’a been a hell of a leak.”
“Yup,” Locks agrees.
“Like I said, it’s handled,” Bull states again, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“You guys drive these streets with no regard to others’ safety, going way too fast, disobeying traffic laws. It’s no wonder one of these death contraptions caught fire.” Skeeter talks while spitting chew from the side of his mouth. I watch the nasty spit fling near Bull’s boot, and the disrespect has me seething. I step up ready to go head-to-head, but Bobby pulls on my shoulder, holding me back.
“It would be a day to mark on the calendar if all your shitty motorcycles caught on fire.” Skeeter chuckles as leftover chew dribbles down his chin.
“Are we done here?” Bobby asks, squaring his shoulders in anger.
Skeeter scoffs as he takes in the scene. “This your bike, Locks?” he questions.
“Yes,” Locks replies, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’m going to have to write you a ticket.” Skeeter pulls a notebook from his back pocket.
“For what?” Bull asks with disbelief.
“Unsafe operation of a motor vehicle,” comes Skeeter’s reply while writing on his ticket book.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I grit out. Surely he can come up with something better than that.
“You want to go for a ride to the station?” Skeeter asks, puffing his chest out.
I step up to the challenge, ready to throw a punch.
“I think you just assaulted an officer,” Skeeter lies, pulling out a pair of chrome cuffs from his waistband. “You saw it, didn’t you, Officer Manny?” I look over and see a pale Manny looking scared to death at the situation unfolding.
“Bullshit,” Bobby snaps, stepping up, ready to take Skeeter down for trying to arrest me. If Skeeter’s going to lie and claim I assaulted him, he’s going to get what he wished for.
“All right, let’s calm it down,” Bull orders, sliding his hand between Skeeter and me.
“Locks, take the fucking ticket. We’ll get the mess cleaned up, Skeeter. No need to arrest anyone,” Bull tries to reason.
“I don’t like your tone. You better watch it, boy. I think you forgot whose town you’re in,” Skeeter states, cocking his eyebrow. My teeth grit in anger, a couple nights in jail for assaulting a police officer, Skeeter in particular, doesn’t sound too bad at the moment.
He rips the paper from the pad and throws it in Locks’ direction.
“Enjoy the rest of your day,” Skeeter practically sings before walking back to his cruiser.
“Fucking prick,” I rumble in anger.
“Are you trying to get thrown in prison?” Bull questions.
I shrug and mutter, “It would be worth it.”
“Locks, I had Tom bring the truck, so ride back to the club with him. I’ll call a couple of guys and get this cleaned up,” Bull promises, climbing on his bike.
“I have to ride in that fucking thing?” Locks asks, pointing at the SUV. He hates vehicles; I’ve seen him ride his motorcycle in every kind of weather just to keep from being in a vehicle.
“Unless you want to ride bitch?” Bull laughs.
Locks strides over to the SUV and climbs in, shaking his head and cursing. I don’t know what happened to his bike, but I know it didn’t catch fire by a gas leak. He takes care of that thing too well to let something like that go unmended.
***
After we head back to the club, I’m ready for another beer. Only when I find Locks sitting at the bar getting drinks at the clubhouse, I can’t handle the temptation to throttle him and need to go somewhere else. I haven’t forgotten how he disrespected Dani so easily.
“What’ll it be, babe?” the bartender asks, her red hair tangled and sticking to her sweaty forehead. When just us boys are looking to get out and get some fresh beer, we hit up this hole-in-the-wall bar. I don’t even know if it has a name aside from Bar.
“My usual,” I reply, cracking a peanut in half.
“Get me one, too, babe,” Bobby slings her way, sliding onto a stool next to me.
“You followed me again.” I observe rather than ask, tossing the peanut in my mouth.
“Yeah, I want to clear the air between us,” he states, taking his beer from the bartender.
“Not anything to talk about,” I say, grabbing my beer, as well.
“Bullshit there’s not.”
I look up at the TV and see the missing person add for Parker flash between commercials. I grin, they’ll never find Parker. I may or may not have paid him a visit in the night recently. I never leave a job unfinished.
“Hey, I’m Heather.” I look over and see a short, blonde-haired girl sliding up Bobby’s side. She has on ripped fishnet stockings with a red skirt and a black corset.
“Well, hey, doll,” Bobby grins, sliding his hand down over her skirted ass and giving it a squeeze.
“Heather, let’s go. We got business.” Another girl wearing the same outfit yells from the door.