Page 25 of Bleed Me

Once in the large room I had partied in the night before, Dagger gestured his finger about. “We call this the Barn.” Then we walked down the hallway to the left of the bar. As we passed an open door that had a big table made out of wood and rock, Dagger said, “The Stables. Where decisions are made. Only Patched may enter. No Prospects permitted.”

I nodded.

When we passed another open door, I saw a big dark wooden desk, a brown leather couch, and some green leather chairs. Dagger explained, “Prez’s office. Only enter if the door is open. If it’s shut, come back later. If it’s an emergency, knock and wait for permission.”

I nodded again.

Then we entered a room that looked like a badass cafeteria. It wasn’t all white and clinical though. It was warm like the Barn. No windows, but again, it had that comforting ‘in hibernation’ vibe.

Not mentioning all the eating tables, there were a bunch of stations; a soda fountain, a snack bar, a glass-doored beer fridge that was fully stocked, to-go items of every kind, a station for napkins, plates, both plastic and silver utensils, a cereal bar…

When I noticed the highchairs and booster seats, I started understanding this wasn’t all for the bikers. Dagger smiled. “When the families are here, we try and make it legendary.”

I figured that was why the waiting bikers weren’t paying the stations no mind. Men had grabbed plates at the utensil station and lined up, all calm as if this “mealtime” was a regular occurrence.

I followed their line of sight.

Out through two swinging doors that matched the ones by the bar in the Barn, came a huge silver buffet food warmer on wheels. This thing was loaded down with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes and onions, biscuits and gravy, grits… You name it.

I was in heaven. “I’m never leaving.”

From behind me, Dagger happily grabbed my shoulders and jostled. “There he is! Who says you can’t buy a teenager’s love with food?”

With every comment like that, I had to keep reminding myself I was only seventeen. It was crazy. I had already been through so much, I felt at least twenty-five.

After filling my plate with goodness to help soak up my hangover, I picked an empty table off in a corner. Sitting, I was surprised to see a female hand reach over and place a glass of water in front of me. She had blue nail polish. I quickly looked over my shoulder.

A young woman, no taller than 5’2”, with a full tray in her hand, was already walking away. She had come to me first. Little jean shorts swayed, and long wavy blonde hair tumbled down her back, almost to her butt. Her firm legs were slightly tanned, and she was wearing biker boots with no socks showing. That is all I knew of the girl who was to care for me.

Art grabbed a chair at my table while checking out my ‘bunny.’ “Damn, she’s cute.”

I was instantly pulled from a peaceful moment and dragged back into thinking of Delilah because that’s who he was going to get home to to admire.

“Mind if I sit here?”

“Do I actually have a say with something in my life?” Frustrated, I stared at him, because he was already sitting and eating. “Guess not.”

“I’m only here to give you tips about being a Prospect and to say goodbye.”

“Skip one. Do the other. Move along.”

“She rejected me.”

Delilah.

Was he hoping for pity? I wasn’t sure. My eyes snapped to his. “I know that. I know everything about her.”

After Daytona, Delilah decided not to be with Art. Not that they had become official, or were ever together, but after meeting Artist at Daytona, she was considering it. They had problems, including her age, hence the nickname Jailbait. But in the end, Tucker had shared wise words with his little sister, helping Delilah decide to have a younger person be her first relationship.

Now, she may never want another relationship again.

Art argued, “Then why are you all over me about her?”

I had to think for a minute because I wasn’t sure.

He balked, “Is it because I get to see her fall for someone else someday?”

I set my fork down because my situation, as disheartening as it was, was starting to seem like the better option. As far as I knew, I never would have to witness her love someone else and wasn’t sure I could stand it if I had to.