Jonah:Give your name to the prospect.
River:Is that a person?
Jonah:Yes. The guy at the gate.
River:There’s no guy at the gate.
Jonah:I’ll be right there.
A few seconds later, the gate magically parted allowing me to enter what looked like a compound of sorts. There was one large building with a bunch of motorcycles parked out front. I could also see several smaller buildings scattered around the property. I parked my car beside the handful of other cars in the lot and walked toward the big building’s doors.
The music inside the building got louder and louder with each step I took. Suddenly, I was unsure about walking inside by myself. I was standing right outside the doors trying to gather my courage, when one of the doors flew open and narrowly missed me.
Jonah looked at me in surprise. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was on my way inside,” I said.
He shook his head. “No, you were standing out here looking like you were about to run back to your car and get the hell out of here,” he said slowly and pointed to the security camera mounted over the door.
“Can you blame me? It’s not that easy to just walk into a biker clubhouse all alone,” I blurted.
“River, you’ve already met most, if not all, of the brothers. You know there’s no reason to be scared,” he reassured me.
“Whatever. Can we go inside now?”
“Follow me,” he said and led the way.
The inside was not what I expected. I’m not sure what that was, but a clean, smoke-free room filled with tables and chairs was not it. There was also a bar along the back wall of the room and a few pool tables off to one side.
Jonah walked over to a table near the bar where Kennedy and Trey were sitting. “River!” Kennedy squealed and jumped to her feet when she saw me. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
I smiled as she hugged me. “It was a last-minute decision,” I said.
“You want something to drink?” Jonah asked.
“Shots!” Kennedy yelled excitedly leading me to believe she’d already had one or two before I arrived.
Jonah winked. “Be right back.”
He returned with two large shot glasses filled with a dark, almost black liquid. “Here you go,” he said and handed one to me and one to Kennedy.
I tentatively sniffed the concoction. “What is this?”
“It’s called a BWOL,” he said. When I cocked my head to the side, he added, “Blackwings Old Lady. It’s something Layla came up with.”
“Why’d she same it that?”
“Because it’s sweet and mouthwatering, but will knock you on your ass,” he explained.
“What’s in it?” I asked, still eyeing the shot warily.
He shook his head. “I have no idea. I think Layla’s the only one who does know.”
“Where is she? I’ll ask her.”
“I don’t think she’s here yet. She mixes up a batch for the bartenders to pour on the nights we have parties. It’s nothing gross or illegal. She made it with whatever we had behind the bar at the time, and you can see for yourself, we only keep the basics in stock,” he said and gestured to the shelves lining the wall behind the bar.
“Come on, River, have some fun,” Kennedy said and held her shot glass out. I shrugged and thrust my glass out to clink with hers then promptly downed the liquor. I was expecting it to be horrible, as most shots were, but I was surprised when the taste of chocolate covered strawberries filled my mouth.