Bones by the Wood Read online

  “How did a scrawny shit like you bag a goddess like her?” Scooby asked.

  “My twelve inch cock and my sparkling wit, fuckhead.” Ferret replied with a smile through billowing smoke.

  “Does she do that shit with the feather fans in bed?” Shaggy looked genuinely interested.

  Ferret laughed. “Dude, I’m not telling you that.”

  “Jesus, those are some great tits.” Scooby didn’t seem to realize that he’d spoken out loud.

  Ferret’s smile dropped a couple of notches, but his tone was still friendly. “Hey, you keep talkin’ ‘bout my old lady like that and I will hack into your entire lives and wipe you out. I can have you both in a Super-Max for breach of parole quicker than you can say ‘soap’.”

  Shaggy, the slightly more Neolithic of the two looked confused. “I’m not on parole.”

  Ferret laughed and said through another drag on his cigarette, “Exactly, shit-for-brains. Exactly.”

  “Okay, boys. Calm down.” The atmosphere was still friendly, but Dizzy didn’t want to see this issue ending up in the ring tonight or any other night.

  Ferret’s old lady, Lyla Lyssa, was a stripper devoted to the burlesque style, who was beginning to find fame across the country, thanks to a couple of national magazine features. She was from Texas originally, and it had been her that had persuaded Ferret to take up the Priests’ offer. Ferret had been more than happy to appease his wife’s desire to return to her home state. Dizzy had asked why, assuming that her burgeoning career might be better served by a move to Los Angeles or New York. Apparently Ferret’s old lady was a home girl, and as her fame expanded she felt the need to return to her roots to remain grounded.

  “I don’t think we’ve got anything else to cover tonight.” Dizzy continued, catching everyone’s eye as he spoke, but no one brought up any extra business. “Well then, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m thirsty.”

  Dizzy banged the gavel, bringing the meeting to a close, and the room was suddenly filled with the scraping of chair legs on the floor as seats were pushed back. Dizzy followed the rest of the men through the double doors into the main room.

  The interior of the clubhouse had been average, generic biker décor. It still was, but at least now it was theirs. It was possibly the only time that brand new couches had ever been bought for a clubhouse in the history of the Priests, but no one wanted to get a blow job on a couch that some traitorous fuck had banged some chick on. The floor had been redone with terracotta tiles in some fancy pattern, all the easier to mop the puke and beer from, and the bar stools, captain’s chairs and tables were all matching dark wood. The pool table had been re-covered and the stripper pole had been bleached almost enough to take the chrome off. Instead of just tacking magazine covers and posters to the white-washed walls they’d had some of the classier posters framed up. In time, pages ripped from calendars and centerfolds pulled from magazines would be added.

  All in all, Dizzy was pleased with the results. To him, at least, it felt as though all traces of the Rabid Dogs had been removed. It was still shiny and new, and it needed to be puked on and broken in and scarred up some before it felt lived in, but it had the makings of home. However homey it turned out to be, Dizzy was glad he didn’t have to use the clubhouse as his home address anymore. He’d lived in the dorms while the bulk of the work had been being done, and it had it had only reminded him about all the aspects of that communal style of living that had made him feel the need to look for his own apartment in Louisiana. Anticipating that, as President, there might be times that he didn’t want neighbors twitching their curtains along the street, he’d found a ranch-style house out in the sticks. It was bigger than he needed for himself, but had plenty of room should the President of the mother charter decide to visit, or should a brother need somewhere to rest or recuperate. Ravensbridge was smaller than Absolution and generally poorer. There were a few suburbs, but Dizzy neither wanted nor needed that lack of privacy or those kinds of neighbors.

  There were women milling around the main room when they exited the Chapel. This was a new development. Along with the hangarounds, the sweetbutts had disappeared, too. Dizzy figured word had gotten around that there were some new fucks to be had. None of the men were so green as to run through the room whopping and hollering and slinging girls over the shoulders. They headed for the bar like they always did, where it was still ‘serve yourself’ until they found a suitable grunt. Ferret took the role of bartender for this round, a fresh cigarette dangling from his lips.

  Dizzy accepted a glass of whiskey as Annelle Beaumont approached from the other side of the room. He’d met her some weeks previously, when he’d visited her to inform her of the change of ownership of the Dusky Kitten. As house mama and manager of the closest club, Annelle had been his first port of call for that discussion.

  She could have been Moira’s older sister; she was in superb form for her age and had the same classy way of presenting herself. She was tall, and tonight she was wearing shiny black pumps with a wickedly spiked heel and a simple grey dress that outlined every curve and showed off a stellar cleavage without looking trashy. Only her hair interrupted the image. Dizzy thought maybe it would have been tied back to match the outfit, but the reddish waves were freely brushing her shoulders. He touched the brim of his Stetson in greeting when she stopped in front of him.

  “Hey, Dizzy. Thought I’d bring a few of the girls round for the party. Rounded up a couple of the girls that used to hang about here, too, and told ‘em you boys were in town. They were real keen to meet y’all.”

  Dizzy looked at the various females. It was obvious which were from the Kitten and which were sweetbutts. The strippers were all wearing tight, shiny dresses and the obligatory Lucite heels, but managed to look classier than the other girls. Two of the others were wearing those tiny, denim shorts with their perky butt cheeks peaking out the back. The one that wasn’t had long, curling platinum-blonde hair that was streaked with a kind of pale purple. She was wearing a leather skirt that barely covered her ass and a patterned tank that was fighting a losing battle to contain her tits.

  “It’s appreciated, Annelle. Thank you.”

  Dizzy could see just how appreciated it was. Shaggy and Scooby were staring, enraptured, at a waif-like blonde who was spinning herself round the pole as if it were easier than walking, and Cage was inviting a tawny blonde with deep golden skin who was at least twice his height to sit in his lap while she sipped her tequila.

  Annelle laughed. “The pleasure’s all theirs.” She stepped in a little closer. “You need to watch out for Reba, though.” Annelle indicated with a tilt of her head towards one of the girls in the denim shorts; this one had long copper hair and green eyes. “She likes to party hard, gets a little strung out on occasion.”

  “Thanks for the heads up. That gonna be a problem for us?” Dizzy asked.

  “Shouldn’t be.” Annelle stepped back. “But you should know anyhow. If you want my personal recommendation, you should take a drink over to Orchid there on the pole when this song finishes. I’ll get Lucy to distract those two beasts.”

  Dizzy looked over to the pole just as the tiny blonde executed a move that started with the splits and ended up with her damn near walking on the ceiling of the clubhouse. He thanked Annelle, pulled two glasses and a bottle of tequila from behind the bar and wandered over to the pole. He was glad he’d stopped for condoms on the way in tonight.

  Chapter Four

  Thea placed a plate of cookies on the little white dining table in her kitchen nook before turning back to the counter to pour the coffee. By the time she’d brought the mugs to the table, Annelle had almost finished a cookie.

  “These are good. Your handiwork?”

  Thea turned back for the sugar and milk. “Christ, no. Josh baked them after I mentioned you were comin’ over. But he did say not to expect them every week.”

  “Did he now? Well, that’s just no good. He can’t lay on this cookie goodness and t
hen welch.” Annelle stirred three spoons of sugar into her coffee, but ignored the milk.

  Thea added a touch of milk and ignored the sugar. “I’ll tell him. But since he started asking for gel so he can do his hair for school, I don’t think he’s goin’ to be bakin’ for much longer.”

  “Your little boy is growin’ up, Mama.”

  “I know, Nell, I know.” Thea sighed and looked forlornly at the cookie she’d snagged from the pile. “He’s eleven next. I swear it was only yesterday I was changing his diapers.”

  “Before you know it he’ll be smokin’ and tryin’ to get into the Kitten.” Annelle grinned over the top of her mug.

  “Don’t.” Thea screwed her eyes up in denial. “I have no idea how to deal with all that shit. I have no moral high ground to take at all.”

  Annelle put her mug on the table and leant forward. “You don’t need it. Tell him that smokin’ll give him bad breath and keep the girls away, remind him I’ll tell you if I catch him in the Kitten before he turns twenty-one and that I know most of the mamas at the local clubs so I’ll know if he goes elsewhere. Don’t make a big deal about drink and he won’t be wonderin’ what all the fuss is about. He’s a good kid, Thea, you don’t need to worry.” She said, kindly.

  “I can’t help it. He’s never had a daddy, or, hell, any fella, even a fuckin’ uncle, in his life to show him how to be a man. And there’s precious few decent examples wanderin’ round this town.” It was one of Thea’s biggest worries that the lack of a male role model in her son’s life would result in a teenage rebellion that she wouldn’t be able to nudge him out of.

  “You can only do your best, hon.”

  “I know. I know.” Thea sighed heavily and stared into her coffee for a moment. Then she shook off the gloom for the time being and tried to smile for Annelle as she changed the subject to the one the whole town was whispering about. “So anyway, dish. You must’ve met the guys from the new MC by now. What’s the gossip?”

  “Sure, I’ve met ‘em. Don’t know much about ‘em though, only that the home charter’s in Louisiana and that they used to do business with the Rabids. All sounds a bit suspicious to me, them movin’ in after the Rabids went AWOL, but I gotta say, they’re an improvement. You ain’t seen ‘em in the store?”

  “Sure, a time or two. I’ve seen the scruffy lookin’ one, the two fuckin’ massive ones and the one with the President patch. Dizzy, he said he was called.”

  “You two been chattin’?” Annelle cocked her eyebrow at Thea.

  “Hardly. I was teasin’ him a little bit last Friday. Not seen him since. Why?”

  “He might be Dizzy by name, but definitely not by nature. That man’s got a solid head on his shoulders. He pays attention to detail far better than Jimmy ever did, takes a lot more care.” Annelle’s face broke into a wide grin. “Sounds like he’s got quite the head between his legs as well, if Myla’s to be believed.”

  Thea knew all the girls that danced at the club. Myla’s stage name was Orchid. It suited her; she was delicate and unusual looking. She was a skinny thing, but an expert on the pole thanks to years of gymnastics. She looked like a little half-naked elf with long blonde hair and widely-spaced, big blue eyes. Thea could just imagine her catching the attention of the top dog.

  The previous week had been the first time Thea had spoken to Dizzy, but she’d noticed him before then, she’d definitely noticed him. He was tall, but not skinny with it. Of course he wasn’t anywhere near as big as two of the others that had dropped by several times for booze and rubbers, but they were about the biggest fellas that Thea had ever seen, freak show big. Dizzy was always polite, and he had an aura of authority and experience that she found compelling; she immediately understood what Annelle meant about him seeming more competent than Jimmy.

  Thea’s taste in men usually ran to younger than Dizzy, much nearer her own age; and, if she admitted to herself, a lot dumber. She definitely preferred to have the upper hand in her relationships, not that she’d had all that many since leaving Josh’s father. None of them had ever warranted being introduced to Josh as anything more than an acquaintance.

  Her brief conversation with Dizzy had had an edge of flirtation to it. There was something there that stirred Thea’s interest, something that she’d already decided to ignore since her track record with men only seemed to be getting worse. So she couldn’t quite pin down why she felt a little bit jealous of Myla, especially since Myla was someone that Thea considered a friend.

  Annelle was looking at her speculatively. Thea couldn’t decide if she wanted the gory details so that she could live vicariously, or whether knowing exactly what Myla had gotten up to with the MC President would bring back her gloomy feelings. Since it really was none of her business who the man fucked, she opted to change the subject again instead.

  “Last time I saw Myla she was ravin’ ‘bout a new girl you’re takin’ on.”

  Annelle examined her a little longer before she took another cookie to nibble on while she talked. “Kinda. Lyla Lyssa. Lyla’s her real name, Lyssa is a stage name. She’s the old lady of one of the new patches. She’s really takin’ off, national magazine shoots, the works, but she wanted to move back to Texas. She’s a much bigger name than we could ever have hoped to have gotten at the club, but apparently she likes keepin’ things real and she wants to do a guest spot one night a week, unless she’s out of town. She’s real sweet. She’s gonna teach Myla how to do the burlesque stuff she does. It’s gonna make us look real upmarket. Of course, Lucy’s bein’ a bitch about it all, but that girl wouldn’t have a kind word to say about the Pope.”

  Thea took it all in while she sipped her coffee. She’d had her own share of run-ins with Lucy. Usually Thea managed to get along with everyone she met, or at least managed a state of polite civility, but Lucy had seemed to hate her on sight and made no secret of it, so Thea had given up even trying to be nice and just ignored her when she could.

  “Talkin’ of Lucy.” Annelle continued slowly. “She was gossipin’, well, bitchin’ is more like it, and she came out with somethin’ you ought to hear before you see them next.”

  “Really?” Thea couldn’t imagine what Lucy had to say about her now that she hadn’t already said.

  “Yeah, the girls were comparin’ notes on the new guys and Lucy mentioned somethin’ about one of ‘em havin’ a better dick than Elvis.”

  Thea went cold. “What the fuck would she know about Elvis’ dick?”

  “Turns out your guy was gettin’ it sucked on the regular at the clubhouse if you weren’t there.”

  Thea pushed the last of her coffee away in disgust. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I know they have rules about runs and shit and I know not bein’ his old lady meant I didn’t much exist in the eyes of the club, but you’d think in a town this small he could have kept it in his pants.”

  “That would have been the nice thing to do. Apparently it was beyond his abilities.”

  “Fuckin’ aces.” Thea muttered. It explained some of the superior airs that Lucy had been giving out whenever their paths had crossed. Now that Lucy’d been showing off to the other girls about getting it on with Thea’s guy, she’d be even more impossible.

  A knock at the door saved Thea from having to dwell on her ex-man’s wandering dick, or the mouth it had been wandering into. The thought crossed Thea’s mind that him being dead didn’t seem like such a bad thing now, but then she berated herself for thinking something so cruel.

  She checked the peephole out of habit, but when she saw that it was her neighbor, Thea opened the door wide.

  “Mornin’ Thea.” Clarice Wells had the apartment across the hall and had been Thea’s neighbor since Thea and baby Josh had moved into the building. Having just retired at the time and looking for something to occupy her time, Clarice had offered to babysit Josh while Thea worked.

  “Oh I didn’t realize you had company.” Clarice had spotted Annelle across the open plan living space. “I just wanted to let you k
now that I made lasagna. Josh was askin’ for it the other day. I’ll bring it round in time for you to grab some before you go to work and then I’ll stay with him.”

  In Thea’s humble opinion, this white-haired widow with a taste for bizarrely patterned leisurewear was one of God’s angels on earth. “Thanks Clarice, that’s lovely. But he really shouldn’t be makin’ requests to you.”

  “You know it’s no trouble, my dear. I’m happy to spoil that boy, and you need someone to take care of you now and then.”

  “Hear, hear.” Annelle shouted over from her place at the table.

  Clarice smiled at Annelle over Thea’s shoulder. Thea thought the two women might very well get on, but hoped that Annelle didn’t offer the trim seventy-two year old a job.

  Clarice carried on without giving Thea an opportunity to speak. “I won’t keep you from your guest. I’ll see you later, dear.”