DREW
Two days I waited. Two days. Rubin had been hanging around The Hut like a bad smell every day of the week, but the minute I needed to actually talk to him, the little ghost decided to fade away on me. Tate didn’t know where he was and he didn’t seem care. The only things Tate focused on these days were his bike and his boner. We’d created a fucking monster.
When Rubin eventually rode into the yard on his bike one afternoon, I made sure he didn’t get away.
“Rubin,” I called from the back of a Ford F-150 we’d pulled in fresh that morning. I’d been clearing it out, removing some raggedy old tarp that had been tied to one corner and left for months, if not years.
Rubin looked up, his face brightening and offering me a smile.
I hopped down from the Ford and made my way to Rubin, looking like a man with a purpose. No point pretending to be anything other than I was anymore. It was hard to miss the subtle scowl of confusion that creased Rubin’s brow as he watched me marching forward, but he straightened himself out and waited patiently.
“Hey, Drew.”
“Kid.” I threw my arm around his shoulder. “Where the hell ya been?” Not stopping, I kept on walking, taking him with me and guiding the two of us across the yard, over to The Hut.
“Erm…” He scowled again, glancing at the hand on his shoulder before he looked back up at me. “School stuff. Parent stuff. Wait, am I in trouble?”
“Trouble? Why would you be in trouble?”
“I have no idea.”
“Can’t be in trouble if you ain’t done nothing wrong, Rubes.”
“Rubes?” He raised a brow, not looking away from my face as we hit the steps that lead up to the wrap around porch.
“It’s either that or Pubes. You decide. Everyone in this place needs a nickname at some point.” I pushed open the door, letting it swing behind us and shut with a thud. The bar wasn’t that busy. Most were either out riding, in the yard, working, training, or in bed sleeping the afternoon away like lazy motherfuckers. The only people that occupied the space were a few Hound Whores, Deeks, Owen, and Moose.
Everyone looked up when we arrived. The Hound Whores still gave me the subtle sexy eyes every now and then, despite Ayda practically running the joint these days, but the thought of fresh blood around the place, even if he was an underage high school kid, always piqued the thirsty girls’ interests. Their shoulders straightened, their boobs pushed out, and the way they began to slap their gum around inside their mouths was almost comical. Poor kid would be getting a chubby every time he walked in the place at this rate.
“Rubin!” Deeks greeted from his stool at the bar.
“Hey, Deeks.” He waved again. Polite kid. Not bad forsomeone so capable of delivering a vital gunshot that saved a life. I knew it was why Deeks had taken to the kid more than any of us.
“Where you been?” Deeks asked, patting the bar top in a silent request for us to join him for a drink.
Rubin slid into place on the stool beside Deeks, while I made my way behind the bar to play bartender. Something I rarely did for anyone around here.
“Why is everyone asking that?” Rubin asked, glancing between Deeks and me with shifty eyes.
Deeks laughed roughly, lifting his tumbler to his lips and speaking against the rim of the glass. “Nice to be so popular around here, huh?”
The Whores giggled behind him, and Rubin glanced around, his face lighting up exactly like a teenage boy in a whorehouse should.
“It’s not all bad,” Rubin answered quietly, offering the girls an ill-rehearsed wink before he spun back around and rested his arms on the bar. “Is Tate around?”
I shrugged, looking bored, even though I was smiling.
“I think Ayda and him have gone someplace together. I saw Tate climbing into one of the repo cars with her earlier,” Deeks told him.
News to me, I thought, but I left those thoughts in my mind, not letting them show on my face. Ayda would be safe. She always was. Except for when she wasn’t, but I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to trust her. The Bonnie to my Clyde.
“Shit,” Rubin cursed, not needing to filter his cuss words here. “We had that English paper to work on together.”
Deeks laughed again. “Good luck with that. Tate hasn’tdone any serious studying outside of studying the mechanics of a bike or the female workings of a body since…” He paused, glanced up at the ceiling and frowned. “Lord knows when.” His eyes fell back to me. “We should do something about that, Tucker.”
“Feel free to offer up study sessions any time you like, old boy.” I gave him a half smile.
“Less of the old. I’m vintage. Darn youngsters.”