I rode my bike to the Dog Pound; even though that was the last place I wanted to be. I found the guys on their way out, headed to some bar in Bay Ridge. I wasn’t much company but it was better than wallowing in my self-created Hell.
The new guys were alright, Stryker was a pool shark, and by the second round he had half the bar lining up to try and beat him in a game. He couldn’t lose, so Cobra made things interesting and started placing bets on his games.
It was obvious Cobra was an earner. There probably wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to make a dollar. Jack was going to love him.
Linc was quiet, more reserved. He sat at the bar, eyes glued to whatever game was on the flat screen. Why was it that women always gravitated to the brooding types? The bar was more or less empty but every girl who stepped up to order a drink made sure they cozied up to Linc. He was a pussy magnet.
Deuce was young and chasing tail, reminding me a lot of the old me. The reckless Riggs who only cared about his bike and his dick.
Blackie pushed a shot of tequila toward me.
“You look like shit,” he muttered.
“Thanks, bro,” I replied sarcastically, wondering if he knew how bad he looked. The two of us made quite the pair, looking like two drunk bums instead of two badass bikers.
I threw back the shot.
“Oh, look, here comes your girlfriend,” Blackie mocked. For a moment I thought he was referencing Lauren. I quickly turned around to see Bones walk through the door, making eye-contact with me as Stryker grabbed his arm and led him to the pool table. I snarled, swiveling around in my chair when my eyes latched onto the unmistakable dark eyes of a girl. I laughed, nudging him as that bitch karma made her presence known.
“Yeah, and there’s yours,” I mused.
He turned in his chair, his eyes following the direction of mine and collided with Lacey’s.
“Goddamn,” he hissed, quickly turning back around.
I waved at Lacey and received a scowl in return.
“She looks pissed, guess her date isn’t doing it for her,” I observed. Blackie ordered another round of shots while glancing over his shoulder at the guy who was getting cozy with Jack’s daughter.
He shook his head before turning back and staring down at his drink.
“Stop looking at her,” he growled.
“Shouldn’t you be saying that to the guy with his tongue in her ear?” I asked incredulously, as I turned around and minded my own business—kind of. “C’mon man, I know you have a death wish and all that, but Jack’s daughter?”
“It’s not like that,” he growled.
“Right and Michael Jackson didn’t think he was Peter-fucking-Pan,” I retorted.
“What?”
I rolled my eyes, about to call him on his shit when Bones came up alongside me and parked his ass on the stool next to mine and ordered a beer.
“Hey,” I greeted, looking at him expectantly. I had called him earlier to ask if he went to the hospital to pay Lauren’s medical bills and he told me he’d meet me here.
“It’s all taken care of,” he stated. “She’s paid in full until next month—I guess when she sees the doctor again,” he added.
I nodded in response.
“I ran into her at the hospital,” he said. I turned, pinning him with a stare. “Relax, she didn’t know why I was there. I told her I got lost,” he stated, shrugging his shoulders. “She seemed to buy it. Anyway, everything’s good with her and the baby, moving along just as they should be,” he informed.
“Good,” I said, turning back to Blackie, stealing the shot he was about to bring to his lips and claiming it as my own. I flinched as the liquid burned my throat. “Thanks for doing that,” I croaked.
He slapped his hand on the bar.
“Go easy on that shit,” he said, lifting his hand and leaving a black and white photograph of Pea.
My Pea.
I reached for the photo, mesmerized by how much he had changed since I last saw him.
“Kid’s got your nose,” he added, before slapping me on the back and strolling out of the bar.
“He does,” I whispered out loud, as I traced my finger over my kid’s nose, the same nose he shared with me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached into my pocket, pulling out a couple of bills and dropped them onto the bar. I took Pea’s photo and slipped it into my back pocket.
“I’m getting out of here,” I told Blackie. Without waiting for a reply, I walked out of the bar and climbed onto my bike. I revved my engine and drove aimlessly around the streets of Brooklyn with the image of Pea’s profile fresh in my mind, burning a hole in my heart.
My nose.
Lauren’s lips.
I wasn’t sure about his chin but it was still a handsome chin.
I hope his eyes are just like his mother’s.