Evolve—a
club for men
Come
back for more
See Me in the Dark
Preston
Woodley hid his scars from the world. It’s been nearly a decade since a lover
has seen or felt them. He only comes alive in the dark, on his back. Pres never
allows anyone to touch him there. He longs to find someone who sees him for the
man he is and not a monster shaped by a horrible accident in his past.
Robert
‘War’ Warren, recruited into the biker lifestyle early, has not only committed
crimes, he’s been stabbed and shot. War has seen and done it all and he doled
out enough payback to earn a brief stint in jail. Scrambling to have more, he’s
reached a pinnacle of success and now seeks peace. What he used to be, what he
could easily become again, may ruin his life forever.
“Name’s Lodge. Would you be able to move to
another booth or table? This one should have held a reserved sign.”
Standing, Preston said, “Sure. My beer
hasn’t…”
“It’s good, LD. I don’t mind if he stays.”
Robert Warren allowed his eyes to take the man in for the second time tonight.
Something about him. “Didn't mean to damn near knock you over
earlier.”
“I probably shouldn’t have blocked the
entrance. My names Preston.”
“Call me War.”
“Jesus, man, you don’t introduce yourself to
someone you barreled over running late and then tell him to call you War.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know him like that.”
War let his eyes rake the stranger’s face and
body once more. “I want to know him like that.”
“We’re not going to get this settled tonight,
are we?”
“LD, I’m already working for you. If you
require it on paper, we can hash out particulars another time.” He watched his
friend eyeball Preston. “Okay?”
“Tomorrow. My shop. That order can’t wait.”
“For one of those rubs you cater to?”
“Rich urban bikers are loaded with cash.”
“And will help pay for that
two-million-dollar monstrosity you had built. I get it. Tomorrow I’ll drop by
Custom Deviations. Now, Blondie’s cutting eyes this way because you’re
lingering. I’m not responsible for the fall out.”
“Christ, War, do you have to always be a
bastard?”
“As I remember, in Philadelphia, you weren’t
that much better.”
“Tomorrow. Ten AM sharp.”
“Make that noon and we got a deal.”
“Shit.”
LD walked away finally giving War a chance to
really meet Preston. Seeing as his drink hadn’t arrived, War flagged down a
waiter. “Can you put a rush on…” He turned to Preston. “Have a seat. You said
beer?” War told the server, “Bring two of those east coast lagers and that’ll
be all for now.”
“Thanks, I haven’t waited long.”
“You
shouldn’t wait at all.” Their beers arrived and War smiled when Preston waved
away the glass and tilted the bottle up. “Damn. I like that.”
“What?”
“Your mouth.”
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t come here for beer because unless
you order the right brand, it all tastes like piss.” When Preston pushed his
bottle away and stood, War leaned closer. “I won’t ask you to stay but I sure
as hell would like you to. One thing you should know is I don’t play games.”
“I have no intention of starting anything.”
“You sure about that?” Leaning back, he
studied the man. Brown hair neatly trimmed curled above his collar and eyes the
color of cognac continued to observe War. The navy suit was cut to fit nobody’s
ass but his and fingernails were recently manicured. War liked a man who took
care of himself. He also appreciated that his build was just shy of athletic
and not bound in muscle. “Is this your first time at Evolve?”
“I moved here from Detroit a month ago.”
“Let me guess? You didn’t live within five
miles of that city on any side. I’d say Bloomfield Hills, maybe Birmingham.”
“You know the area?”
“Went to Kettering.” Preston’s forehead
scrunched and eyes reflected doubt before changing to surprise and for some
reason, it pissed War off. He knew Preston’s type. Superior. Better than. “On
second thought, you can run along now.”
“I wanted a beer not a rude dissection by a
biker.”
“When I dissect your ass, you’ll know it.”
War rose and stepped close enough for his boot toes to touch shiny oxfords.
“Maybe next time I’ll show you what I mean.” He walked away leaving Preston
stand there and hoped like hell the jackass took another swallow of beer and
choked on it.
“You’re early.”
“Did my fabrication delivery arrive?”
“Yup. Needs your finessing and assembly.
Everything else is ready to go.” Lodge sat with feet on his desk reading a
custom bike magazine. “You know, strategically placed PR, a word here and
there, this shit could really take off.”
“What the hell are they outfitting the
building next door for, LD?”
“A few additions to improve our facilities.”
“Additions my ass. They’re machine tools. I
know a milling machine when I see one, jackass.” War flopped on the sofa and
stretched out.
“You never know what you might wish you had on
hand.”
“I’m not working fulltime, LD. Those days are
over.”
“I have a couple engineers on staff.”
“Yeah, right.”
“And don’t lay on my couch.”
“What the fuck’s it in here for?”
“Jesus, you’re in a pissy mood. Try getting
more sleep at your house.” Lodge’s
head swiveled toward the door at the sound of a bike pulling into the shop.
“Shit. Nothing is sacred.”
War laughed. “Don’t like the lover on your
bike?”
“I worry because he’s only been riding a real
bike for a few months. Jim learned on dirt bikes. A whole different animal.”
“Don’t want that pretty ass all scarred up,
huh?”
“Fuck you.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Jim, I thought you might sleep in after
working last night.”
“I’m good, not due in until six. I’m meeting
with the band to go over a few things about lighting and Zed’s new sound
system. I’ll nap later.” He turned to War. “What the hell did you say to
Preston Woodley? He might stop in to hear the band tonight.”
That pulled War to a sitting position. “How
do you know him?”
“He introduced himself while you were
occupied at the other end of the bar.” Jim laughed. “Right before Sanders threw
your ass out.”
“Dress code is bullshit. It’s a goddamn,
highfalutin bar.”
Lodge placed his feet on the floor and tossed
the magazine on his desk. “I told you about the dress code and Sanders.”
“Shit, I was surfing and got caught up in the
waves. Didn’t have anything with me but my leathers and didn’t want to be
late.”
“Lord help me. You were late.”
Jim perched on the edge of the desk. “Preston also noticed your disregard for dress. Oh, that reminds me.” He dug in his
pocket and pulled out a ten. “He wanted me to give you a message.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, what?”
“The message, Jim.”
“Oh.” He winked at Lodge. “He said tell Mr.
Warren no thank you. Actually, he asked me to give you your money back after he
paid for his own beer and said no thank you to the next time.” He handed the
bill to War.
“That foppish prick!”
“Shit,” Lodge laughed. “That struck a nerve.”
“Kiss my ass. I’m out.”
Life is
complicated, it’s loud, death arrives silently. – J.
Hali Steele (from Twice the Burn)
No comments:
Post a Comment