“Me.” I was proud of the results.
“Does Mike know you can paint?” He sounded surprised.
“He has seen my bike when I used the garage to do a service. He never asked who did the paint work, just that he liked it.”
“Sweet, looks like we have someone to do touch-ups, and possibly a full paint job. We have a family reunion in a few weeks, and the ladies are invited to come along. You can join us.” Bruiser offered as my ladies arrived; they were not included in that invitation, I assumed, because I have a bike.
“Bruiser, you already met Jenny, Melony, Karen, and Heather, my other BFF, and Alice, Karen’s sister, and BFF to my sister.” Adding that comment, hoping that Bruiser knew precisely what that woman was like. Alice battered her eyes and leaned forward to show off what was under that almost shirt. My ladies greeted him with the respect he deserved.
“Ladies. Hands out.” Bruiser stamped the girl’s backs of their hands; they all had a bear, except Alice, who had a rabbit on her hand. I frowned, trying to figure out what the rabbit was all about.
He pushed my hand away.
“You are family, no need for a stamp.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. I felt so special. Then the shoe dropped. Rabbit meant she would open her legs. Bruiser got my meaning loud and clear. It took a while to understand the purpose of the stamps.
“Come inside and meet the ole ladies.” I understood what he meant; these were ladies who had been claimed and had a different level of respect that those not claimed would never understand. I have met a few of them over the years and gained more insight into club life. They respect me as much as I respect them.
We entered the place, and the girls who had been waiting outside gave us a dirty look, as they were still stopped from entering.
“What’s so special about them?” One pouted, but Bruiser ignored her.
Inside was cleaner than I had expected -my fault for judging a group of men, since they often look messy when I see them at the shop. The place had a large, open space, with tables where you stand, as well as booths dotted along the walls, and stools at the bar, which ran the full length of the room. I loved the spacious room, the pictures on the walls, and some bike parts scattered about as decoration. A few barstools are bike seats; it was different, and it appealed to me. Being a lover of bikes.
“Sticks.” I greeted her as we got closer to the ladies Bruiser was taking us to.
“Hey, Maxie Max. How’s it blowing?” She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. This chick had no filter or personal space. Sticks was the President’s; her real name was Sandra, but she was my height at five-nine, and she had no shape to her body, just a lovely bean pole, almost no chest to speak of, yet she had had two boys. Hence the name Sticks.
“Doing better,” I replied. She would know what was going on.
She introduced us to the other ladies with her, and it didn’t surprise me that Alice had already moved away from us before we had finished the introductions.
“What’s her story?” Sticks asked as she watched Alice start to try her luck with the club men.
“Same as my sister. Bruiser put a rabbit stamp on her hand.” Sticks and the other girl roared out laughing.
“She will be used, abused, and kicked to the side by the time the night is over, and I doubt they would let her back in. We don’t need her sort in the club.” Maggie spouted as we watched a patch member knock her offer back.
“The regulars are not going to like her working their turf. So, to speak.” Tootsie said, with a smirk, that the regulars know the rules and stick with them.
Don’t approach a patch member; if interested, they will come to you.
Nom’s are fair game.
But most girls would prefer a patch member.
Don’t touch a taken member; the women will gang up and make your life miserable if you feel one of theirs.
Wait to be let into the clubhouse and then stay in the public area.
No going upstairs uninvited.
The first two floors are designated for guest rooms, while the top floor is reserved for permanent residences. Those who don’t have a home of their own to go to. They are private and not open to wandering girls.
Don’t touch or sit on someone’s bike, unless you are given permission.
The patched old ladies are the bosses of the girls; they tell you to leave or do something, and you do it.
There were more rules for the girls visiting, but I couldn’t remember them all at that moment. None had applied to me until now.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.