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I smile to myself.
“Looks like I gotta hit the road,” I say to Riot. “Unless you wanna come help at the soup kitchen?”
He looks like he’s settled in for the night; linking his fingers behind his head looking smug. “You know I’d love to, but I’ve got a date tonight.”
“Uh, huh, with who?”
“I don’t kiss and tell, brother.” He taps his nose.
“You know the sweet butts don’t expect dinner and a show, right?”
He gives me the side eye. “It’s not a sweet butt, and anyway, you’re always the one sayin’ they’ve got feelin’s too, or some shit.”
“Since when do you date is more the question,” I laugh.
He tugs on the lapels of his cut, straightening himself out. “Since now. I’ve seen Cash settle down. Then Jett, Hawk, Harlem and Tag. Wonderin’ if there’s somethin’ in this monogamous shit.”
I snort a laugh. “I guess you don’t know till you try, right?”
“Exactly.”
I’ve been doing this gig for ten years, and I’ve seen a lot of shit go down. But one thing we don’t tolerate at this club is the abuse of women, sweet butt or not. Sure, the girls who hang around the club do so for free shit and offer sex to the men around the club, but they do it freely. They know what they’re here for and nobody is making them do anything they don’t want to do.
Nobody disrespects the women under Cash’s rule, and that isn’t the way for most clubs. The women are treated like garbage. Some of the guys may not be the most romantic, but they toe the line. Ever since Cash established the New Orleans chapter, a lot of things changed for the better. Riot is a good guy, but to think of him going out on an actual date makes me laugh.
I push the rest of my drink away and slowly stand. Pulling on my cut, I glance around the main bar. There’s not a lot happening at this hour on a Thursday night. Most of the guys have regular jobs and come and go as they please. The bar is dimly lit and the jukebox playing at a low decibel.
“If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”
“Text me if there’s any hot chicks.”
I roll my eyes as I give Amber a wave on my way to the parking lot.
All the chicks of the club like me because I treat them like human beings, not pieces of meat. The same can’t be said for all of the brothers in the club, so I try to set a good example in the hopes that it may rub off onto some of them. Riot included.
Once outside, I jump on my sled and make my way across town to where the soup kitchen is located. It’s in one of the poorer areas of New Orleans, but this neighborhood has cleaned up its act a lot thanks to Dan’s influence. Unlike me, Dan hasn’t been in jail, nor has he a sordid past where he’s killed people, or anything close.
But we’ve been friends for years and met in high school. For some reason we’ve always kept in contact. He’s one of the good guys, not that that can be said for all the members of the Catholic Church, or any church for that matter.
One of the few solaces I get in life, aside from prayer, is riding my motorcycle. When it’s just you and the open stretch of road before you, there is no greater feeling. Though I don’t exactly enjoy the weaving of traffic in New Orleans, I put that aside and think of all the good I’ll be doing tonight.
I pull up in the lot at the back and park, heading inside through the back door. As soon as I enter, I smell an amazing aroma that shouldn’t belong in a soup kitchen. A cross between curry and baked potatoes. When I get inside, I see Manny and Shanice with their heads over a very large pot on the stove. Manny is famous for his gumbo, and I’ve yet to find anyone that could outrank him where flavor is concerned. He’s an excellent cook and no one dares piss him off back at the clubhouse. Nobody wants to be living on sandwiches.
However, it looks like the homeless are gonna have a treat tonight.
They both turn as I close the door behind me and give Manny a chin lift.
Shanice smiles warmly. She’s a hearty, big woman with an infectious laugh and a southern drawl, hailing from Alabama and she’s not afraid to let anyone know it.
“Well lookie here, if I don’t have two handsome men to share the kitchen with tonight,” she laughs, wiping her hands on her apron. She pulls me into a hug that I can’t escape from and Manny chuckles beside her.
“Lovely to see you again, Shanice. Manny.”
He gives me a bro handshake. “Good to see you, oh holy one. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve dressed up a little.”
Many is openly bi, but likes to flirt a little because he knows I’m one of the only ones in the MC who’ll let him get away with it.
“Dan texted me and asked if I could fill in tonight,” I explain. “Where do you need me?”
