Page 89 of Dock

Including the Rugrat that shoots me a quick glance for consent regarding my leftovers.

Though…leftovers are an oversell.

Cookies are called that shit for a reason.

They’re for sharing.

“Walk with me,” Lady commands, summoning my amber stare to her crystal. “Now.”

I reluctantly rise to my feet.

Unlike that Cookie, I wouldn’t get thrown out of the clubhouse.

But it’d risk pissing off Dive.

And that’s not the vibe tonight.

Tonight is all about good times.

Despite whether or not I’m personally having them.

Following behind Lady has us walking past the floor to ceiling glass walls where it’s easy to see Bones enjoying a lap dance from a topless chick alongside a glass of whiskey. He cuts his golden tan, beard covered face over his shoulder just as we pass by prompting me to lift my cup in a cheers nature to which he returns the gesture.

I like Bones.

He’s low maintenance.

Has roots in Camelot but ties to nowhere.

He rides.

He works where he lands.

Rides again.

Lives by his own rules and regulations unless needed otherwise.

I don’t think that no man, one man shit is for me – probably ‘cause I experienced it enough as a kid – but just because some shit ain’t my shit doesn’t mean it’s the wrong shit.

A little fact people tend to forget nowadays.

Lady waits for me to be beside her before preceding down the manicured rock steps that will take us to the edge of the lake our clubhouse is braced against, which is pretty standard for most Misfit chapters.

Having a body of water nearby makes it harder for us to fall victim to a surprise attack.

Throwback tactics or some shit.

“Talk,” the bossy blonde demands during our slow decent.

“About?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she innocently squeaks, “maybe about the older teacher you’re banging?”

“How do you-”

Her sharp sarcastic glare cuts me off mid-sentence.

Forfuckssake.