Jase (4 page)

Even with that, her status
within
the club felt
tenuous,
because with Winger gone, she wasn’t an old lady anymore, the typical place granted women. Winger had been a
well-respected
member, so she used the men’s memories of him, as well as any other advantage she had, to keep herself and Melanie housed, clothed, and safe.

That included doing things with the club. Like this weekend, when she would be going
to a party
she didn’t want to attend,
just
because her presence had
been requested
. Davis Mason was the
national
president for the
Rebels,
and she respected him, was proud of the man he had grown
into
. With his role in the club, when he said jump, you didn’t ask how high; you just hopped like crazy hoping you would hit the mark…
even
if you had known him all his life. So now, since he asked for her
personally
, she would by God show, even if it pained her to do so.

Mason had been in Texas recently and was riding back now with Mica Scott, a young woman not much older than Melanie. Mica had a unique status in the club. In a brotherhood where women
were denied
membership, she was named Princess. The ins-and-outs of the title and role were still muddy to DeeDee, but it sounded like she
was granted
the club’s protection without any demands or strings.
Kind of like how things are with me right now
, she mused, shaking her head.

She
heard
rumors Mason was somewhat stuck on the woman, so who knew how long the gal’s independent status would last. With men like Mason, once they set their sights on something, it was seldom they failed to acquire it. There were damned few exceptions, not even if that something happened to be a woman.

In the suite, she paused as she was packing her small bag, clothes clasped loosely in her hand.
I wonder if Jase will be there
, she pondered. Shaking her head and smiling, she told herself aloud, “Doesn’t matter, old lady. He
was fun
to play with and
pretty
to look at, but you should not go there. Just decide now to set temptation aside.”

Jase Spencer was a young hockey player who had pretended interest in her. Because he was a
nice
guy who noticed she was lonely, he set out to entertain her for a couple of evenings. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since returning home, but to be fair, she hadn’t left him her number and
certainly
hadn’t expected anything. Snorting in amusement at the idea of her with Jase, she finished packing.

Downstairs in the main room of the clubhouse, she looked at the men scattered around the room, her gaze glancing across the scantily-dressed women seated with many of them. She sighed as she sized-up her options for a ride to the storage unit where she kept the bike parked.
One of the visiting Chicago members waved her over, and wrapping an arm tenderly around her shoulders, greeted her with a squeeze.
He had his long, white hair tied back
with
a
bandana
and nuzzled the side of her head with one of his most striking features, a dark, full mustache. “Tugboat,” she greeted him fondly, sliding an arm underneath his leather cut to return his hug.

“DeeDee. You are looking lovely as ever, my lady. What a beauty.”
He smiled at her, bringing his hand up to
softly pat her face. “You take my breath away.”

“Goofball,” she joked. “Hey, Mason wants me in Chicago on Winger’s bike.
Can you give me a lift over to
storage
?”

“You
betcha
,
pretty
lady. I could be ready
now
if you are, or you can let me know when. I place myself at your service. Anything you need.” He smiled and winked, flirting as natural to him as breathing, but as always, she knew he didn’t mean anything by it. He was a good-looking man and well respected in the club.
No way would he be interested in her
when he could have any young thing he wanted.

“Now is good.
If that works for you.”
She lifted her bag to show him. “I’m all packed and
ready.
I want to get the bike to the shop and check it out quick. That way I can be back here in time to pull out with you guys.
I don’t want to ride up there on
my own.”

He frowned and looked at her
through
squinted eyes. “I’ll follow you to the shop and stay until you’re ready to come back. That way you’re never alone,
pretty
lady.” Reaching out, he took her bag from her hand. “Let me.”

***

Hoss watched DeeDee leave the clubhouse with Tugboat, jealousy slicing through him. He saw the indecision on her face as she walked down the stairs and thought for a minute she was coming to him, but then Tug had waved her over.
He knew Tug would be headed back to Chicago with them today, and wondered if this exit
was
him leaving early. But why would he take DeeDee with him?

Picking up his beer, he walked to the open door of Bingo’s office behind the bar. The Fort Wayne
chapter
was structured differently than others, as they only had a few officers.
The main ones were President, which was Bingo; their Treasurer, Torres, who was also manager at Down Range, one of the club’s businesses; Road Captain, a position currently filled by PBJ; and Gunny, an ex-Marine, was Sargent-at-Arms.
No Veep, no Lieutenant. That meant there wasn’t anyone to run interference for Bingo when members wanted to see him, which worked in Hoss’ favor right now.

Knocking as he walked in, he pulled one of the metal chairs back from the desk and sat, staring at Bingo steadily. “Where’s DeeDee going with Tug?” Might as well get the question out there. He hadn’t made any secret about his interest in the woman over the past year or so, which would make it more of an issue if Tug
were
making a play for her.

Bingo stared back at him for a minute, then said, “He’s probably taking her over to get Winger’s bike. Mason wants her at the party.”

“Why would he want that? She hasn’t been going to
barbecues
or anything with the club. She might live in our house, but she hides from club business. Why force her into something like this?” Hoss held up his hand. “Not that I’m questioning Mason. But why DeeDee?”

“Something to do with Mica, no doubt.” Bingo shrugged. “Why you
askin’
, brother?”

“Did you send her to Tug?” Bingo shook his head and Hoss nodded. “Okay then. Do you know if he’s
makin’
a play?”

“Doubtful,” Bingo laughed. “He’s hoping she gets busy with that hockey guy she flirted with last time she was in Chicago. Said if he got a chance, he was going to spin her Spencer’s way.”

“What the fuck?” Hoss growled. “Jase Spencer? You want a citizen for Winger’s old lady?”

“She ain’t Winger’s old lady anymore.” He shrugged. “I want her happy. She’s holding so tight onto what was that she ain’t looking
for
what could be. Woman’s fucking mired in the past, and we ain’t done her any favors by keeping her close.”

“Keeping her close helps keep her safe, brother.” Hoss settled back into the chair. “And what could be is sitting right here in the fucking room. You and Tug both know I’ve been biding my time, letting her grieve and move past all that shit. I want her in my bed…want to keep her in the club. Hell, I’ve made a study of DeeDee; I can tell you anything you
want
to know about that woman.”

“Anything except what she wants for herself, I wager.” Bingo leaned back, propping his heels on the edge of the desk. “If you know that, then you know more than she does.”

“I know what I want—”

Bingo interrupted him, “You want to fuck her. She needs more than that. She needs to be someone’s sweetheart, needs a real bed in a real house, and needs someone who can accept Melanie as she is. What she doesn’t need is a brother as mired in the past as she is, making a play because he’s tired of being alone.”

“Fuck you,” Hoss said, folding his arms across his chest. “It isn’t like that, Bingo.”

“Tell me what it is, then. Because from where I sit, having someone like Jase Spencer sweep in and cover her shit is
a good
thing.” Bingo frowned at him. “She needs someone who’ll focus on her, someone who sees her sweet for what it is, not what it could be for the club.”

“So you’d be okay letting her go?” Hoss was confused. He had come in here expecting to get a green light, and now it sounded like
Bingo would
back the citizen’s play before his.

“If it’s what is best for her, hell yeah, I’m okay with that. I want to see her back to herself. Want to see her looking with bright eyes towards the future. I want to write love poems about her life, and I want that life to be amazing. I loved Winger like a brother, independent of the club. How can I want anything less for his widow?” Bingo stood and stretched. “You think about what you want, and why, man. Ride beside her, keep an eye on her, and keep her covered. But while you do that, you consider what’s best for her.”

***

At the storage yard, Tug waited astraddle of his bike while she pushed Winger’s out of the bay, gliding it to a stop and putting down the kickstand. Walking back, she tugged hard on the overhead door, struggling
to
close and lock it. She turned to get on the bike and saw Tug looking at her with an odd expression on his face.

“What?” she asked,
swinging
her leg over the seat, tiptoeing up towards the tank to where she had enough leverage to balance the big bike. Sitting for a minute while she pulled on her helmet, he shrugged and silently made a motion
for her to precede him out of the
lot.

At the garage, she idled the bike into an empty service bay,
heeling
the kickstand down and settling it before she dismounted. She was taking off her helmet when she
heard a sharp whistle and turned to see
several men walking towards Tug as he sauntered in from outside where he parked. “Check out Winger’s bike, change the oil, and make sure everything’s
right
for a Chicago run. Mine’s outside; key is in it. Just top it off, check it out.” He was speaking to one of the men in the garage who gave him a chin lift and then looked up at DeeDee with a smile and an easy nod.

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s okay, Tug. I got it. I always do this myself. I don’t mind, and I hate to be
a bother
.” She moved towards the tool cabinets, pulling out her keys. “I still have Winger’s wrench key, so I don’t even have to bug anyone.” Before she could reach her
destination,
however, a pair of firm hands gripped her elbows, pulling her to a stop.

“Let the boys do this for you, Dee. We all know how you hate to accept help, don’t want to admit when you need it…but let them do this for you.” Tug’s voice was near her ear. The low tone coupled with the brush of his mustache against her neck made her shiver, and he chuckled at her reaction. “Come sit with me a minute, keep an old man company.” He used a wheedling tone and she couldn’t help smiling up at him.

“Old man, ha. More like in your prime, mister.” Unsure, she hesitated, watching as the member looked at her then back at him, waiting
for
a decision. “Okay, Tugboat.” Turning, she waved at the other members clustered around Winger’s bike, quietly calling, “Guys, thank you.” She received brief waves and a couple of chin lifts in
response
and turned to walk with Tug towards the office area.

“You want some coffee or tea?” he asked and looked at her closer. “Water, maybe?”

“Water’s good, but I can get it, Tug.” She demonstrated by opening the refrigerator and pulling out two bottles, holding one out to him.

They sat in companionable silence for a few
minutes, watching out the window as Winger’s bike was serviced, one of the men wheeling Tug’s bike into the shop to begin the same process
with
it.
She lifted the cold bottle of water to her lips,
nearly spitting out the drink she had just taken when Tug startled her by asking, “You get laid in Chicago, woman?”

“No,” she laughed. “Hell no.” She shook her head.

“Why not? Jase was into you.” Tug said this
flatly,
as if he was commenting on the chance of cloud cover for the day.

“Because I’m Winger’s old lady,” she retorted with a short laugh, twisting the top back onto the bottle with some force.

“Nuh-uh,” he spoke gently, but the words hurt
nonetheless
. “Winger’s dead. So, why didn’t you sleep with Spencer?”

She turned, drawing on her fifty-two years of experience to form a look of disdain and contempt so withering two of the men in the garage stepped backwards when they glanced through the window and caught sight of her face.
“I didn’t sleep with him because I am Winger’s old lady,” she repeated, enunciating clearly.

“Bullshit,” he shot back, tilting his water up and draining the bottle. “What are you afraid of, woman?”

“
I’m not scared of anything,” she told him,
her anger still bubbling over his denial of how she felt, but she had a sharp pull of fear too.
It was as if he were trying to
strip her of the limited status she still had
within
the club, and she couldn’t let that happen. Without them, she would lose the last pieces of Winger she still had.
I can’t let it happen.
“I didn’t want to fuck him,” she said crudely.

“Bullshit again,” he said. “I saw you dancing with him in Jackson’s, and
you were as into him as he was
you. What happened to derail that love train?”

“I just—couldn’t. It’s disrespectful; at least, it feels that way.” She dipped her chin, looking down at the bottle in her hands. “Plus, he’s just a kid. A
really pretty
kid, but just a kid. Jase would be way more appropriate for Melanie than me.”