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Sprite
Sprite tossed her long, pink hair back over her shoulder and smiled at the guy standing in front of her. He was new to the Royal Bastards, and it was their night to use the clubhouse. Savage was good about letting the Royal Harlots use the bar every Tuesday and Thursday, and she was looking forward to the next meeting. They were going to elect a new treasurer, and she wanted to put her name in the hat. It made sense since her day job was working for the top accounting firm in town. She had gotten her CPA and would really like to help out her new club with her skill set. Although she doubted that any of the other women knew what she did for her day job. They saw her as the bartender for Savage Hell and probably thought that was her livelihood.
Honestly, she tended bar for the club to get out of her mom’s house. She was still living at home, at twenty-five, and trying to save money to get out. It was taking forever, and her mother’s slimy boyfriend drove her half crazy. What her mother saw in him, she didn’t understand. Her mother had met the guy at a bar, and they dated for a whole week before he told her that he loved her. He moved into their little doublewide the next dayand had been making Sprite’s life miserable since. She tried to tell her mother that the slimeball was using her. Sprite told her that no one says “I love you” faster than a man who needed a place to live, but it didn’t matter. Her mother claimed to be happier than she ever was.
Sprite planned on having enough money saved, by the end of the year, to move out of her mom’s place and get a little apartment of her own. Between her new job at the accounting firm and working at the bar, she was well on her way. Every night, she’d stick her tip money in a coffee tin that she hid under her bed, and it was almost full.
“What can I get you?” she asked the guy who was still standing on the other side of the bar smiling at her. Guys hit on her all the time, but she had one very strict rule while working at the bar—no dating any of the Royal Bastards. If things went south between her and one of the club members, she’d feel weird about going in to tend bar.
“A beer and your number,” the guy said. She had to give him an A for effort. Poor thing was really trying. She was going to hate letting him down about not giving him her number. The guy was hot and just her type if she was being honest with herself.
“I can give you a beer, but my number is something that I don’t give out,” she said. “It’s nice of you to ask though.”
He barked out his laugh, garnering attention from the other guys sitting at the bar. “There ain’t nothing nice about me, honey,” he said.
“Name’s Sprite, not honey,” she said. The guy had the nerve to roll his eyes at her as he took the beer that she handed him. She thought he might mingle with the rest of the guys in the back of the room, but he sat up at the bar instead.
“I’m Chains,” he said as if she had asked. “So, why don’t you give out your number?” he asked. “You do have a cell phone, right?”
“Of course, I have a cell phone,” she said. “I don’t give out my number because I don’t date guys in the club.”
“Why not? You not into bikers?” he asked.
Now it was Sprite’s turn to laugh. “I am a biker and I’m part of your sister club, the Royal Harlots. I do date bikers, just not ones from this club.”
“Why the hell not?” he growled.
“Have you ever heard the saying that you shouldn’t shit where you eat?” she asked.
Chains shrugged, “Sure,” he said.
“Well, I have to work here, and if I went out with one of the guys from the club, and it ended badly, it would feel weird to keep working here,” she explained.
“Wow, we haven’t even been on our first date yet, and you already have us breaking up,” Chains drawled.
“We aren’t going out on a first date, so you won’t have to worry about us breaking up,” Sprite insisted. “Listen, it was nice meeting you, Chains, but I have thirsty customers at the other end of the bar. Excuse me.” She turned her back on him and could feel his eyes on her as she made her way to the other end of the bar. She didn’t bother looking back—that would only give him false hope, and she couldn’t do that.
Savage’s husband, Bowie, asked her for a beer and looked her over as she handed it to him. “Did Chains say something to upset you, Sprite?” Bowie and Savage were great to work for. Savage was the Royal Bastards Prez and Bowie was the VP. They worked with her day job’s schedule and Bowie even covered for her when she had to work late and couldn’t get to the bar in time for her shift. They were the big brothers she never had but always wanted. If she told Bowie that Chains was bothering her, he’d kick the poor guy out on his ass. She didn’t want that; and besides, she could take care of herself.
“No, he was just making conversation,” she said. “I mean, he asked me for my number, but I told him that I don’t date the guys in the club. He seemed to accept that.”
“Well, someone needs to tell his face that. He’s been mean-mugging me the whole time we’ve been talking. Plus, he can’t seem to take his eyes off you,” Bowie said.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, grabbing another member a beer and sliding it over the bar to him. “Doesn’t he know that you and Savage are married?”
“Sure,” Bowie said, “but that’s not stopping him from looking at me as though he wants to strangle me. Are you sure that you don’t want me to talk with him? You know, make sure that he’s taking no for an answer.” Bowie was so sweet to offer, even though she’d never call him sweet to his face. Calling a biker “Sweet” usually pissed them off and she didn’t need to fuck up her tips.
“I’m sure,” Sprite insisted. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know that you can,” Bowie assured, “but it’s okay to have some backup sometimes.”
Sprite covered his hand with her own, “Thanks for offering to be my backup, Bowie, but honestly, I’m good.”
“If you change your mind, just let me know. I’m always available to kick some ass if needed,” he promised.
“I know, and I appreciate that,” Sprite said. She turned around to find Chains sitting just a few stools away, still staring her down. He had moved closer and a part of her found his attention flattering. It had been a damn long time since any man paid as much attention to her, not that she was about to change her rules for the guy.
“Would you like another beer?” she asked Chains.
