But none of them laughed. None of them did more than look mildly amused.
Dex finally smiled, gesturing toward his bike with a tilt of his head. “I’ll get you a root beer then.”
Well that wasn’t at all what I expected.
~ * ~ *
There were a lot of things that bothered me about Dex. He was moody, bossy, and overbearing. He could be thoughtless—though to be fair it had only been our initial meeting that demonstrated this. And he was hot.
Not just attractive.
For all of the things about him I disliked that he could fix with a different attitude, the man breathed in oxygen and breathed out sexual masculinity at its finest when he was being a dick and even more when he wasn’t. It was everything from the way he walked, to the way he clipped his words, ignored his messy hair, and wore the ink on his skin, that screamed at that primal part deep in me.
So it didn’t help that all those things that irritated the shit out of me on a regular basis were displaced and replaced the minute we stepped into the bar.
Charles Dexter Locke—I'd found out his full name after spotting a bill with it on there and got a good snort—was easygoing then. Smooth, bossy even toward people he didn’t employ, but he did it in a way that didn’t scream needy or annoying, but rather confidence. The moment we’d sat down at a booth, a waitress was literally right there with a tray of beers on hand. Dex had cut her a quick glance, said the words, “Root beer for the girl, please,” and when the bottled drink was set in front of me, another slice of eyes to the waitress at Mayhem with a low, “Thanks, Rach,” and I swear to God the poor lady swooned.
The look in her eyes was almost comical. Keyword: almost.
I didn’t know how to react around this talkative, casual man who laughed at a story Blake had about his son getting detention in school for cussing.
And his friggin’ laugh.
Damn it. Damn. It.
I had to force myself to remember that this was the man who had made me almost cry. The man who had called me a bitch and called me an idiot behind my back. The same man who had made me think about leaving the only place I really had left.
But he’d apologized. Genuinely apologized and seemed like he regretted what had happened. Whether it was because he was really guilty or if he'd been bullied into it, it didn't matter. Ever since our little show down in the parking lot, he’d been distant, cordial, and concerned in a mix. Though I got to know the rest of the guys, Dex was still a volatile enigma.
As hot and smooth and relaxed as he was being, that wasn’t the usual guy that I knew. But then again, what did I know about running my own business and having to balance work and personal relationships with employees? Absolutely nothing besides the fact that Sonny, who I trusted and loved, somehow managed to be friends with him. That had to count for something.
“Iris,” Blake called out from across the booth we were in.
I tilted my head up at him, smiling. We’d only been there about thirty minutes and I’d been awfully quiet, more so than normal, soaking in their familiar conversations. “Yes?”
He smoothed a hand over his bare head, holding his beer close to his mouth with the other. “You old enough to drink?”
My mouth flattened. "Yes."
“When did you turn twenty-one? This year?"
I rolled my eyes at him. “Three years ago. I'm twenty-four going on fifty.”
Blake made a face. "You're a damn baby."
"Maybe compared to your old butt." I laughed. Just last week he'd turned thirty-six. No one had bought him a cake or anything, but he'd mentioned it to me in passing. Obligation had me going to the deli next door to buy him a cookie in celebration.
"Where'd you live at before?”
It was Dex who'd asked the question. Dex who suddenly looked very intent across the table, an unlit cigarette nestled between his fingers mindlessly. And Dex who hadn't paid any attention to the paperwork I'd filled out when he'd given me the job. Of course.
“Fort Lauderdale.”
“And you drove all the way over here by yourself?” he asked in that low drawl.
Oh God. “Yes.”
“Babe, that’s fuckin’ stupid. Why?”
I thought for a moment about giving them some vague reason, but what was the point? "I couldn't find another job after I got laid off and my lease had ended."
“Your other family?” Dex asked, leaning forward in his seat as he planted his elbows on the table.
My non-WMC family, he meant. I guess. A certain part of me wasn’t surprised he didn’t know the answer though he was friends with Sonny.
“My little brother’s in the Army. He's stationed in Japan.”
My boss did that slow blink again, those eyes sucking me forward like a vortex. He looked from one side to the other, as if he was thinking about whether or not to ask the next question. “Your ma?”
The iceberg that lived permanently in my chest moved an inch. Shouldn't he know that by now? There were times when I went to Mayhem with Sonny that made me feel like everyone in the club knew all of my history. Then again, why would Dex care enough to wonder and ask? Or heck, even listen if someone mentioned it. Half the time he was wrapped up in his own lonesome world.
My voice was lower than usual, tender tissue paper in a wind storm. "She passed away a few years ago."
Slim, who had talked to me and asked me things, didn’t know that specifically, so I wasn’t surprised when he reached over and patted my hand. “Sorry, Iris.”
Dex did this gradual nod in agreement. There was something about his face that looked stricken. Maybe I was imagining it though. “Sorry to hear about your ma, babe.”
I did what I always did when someone found out about her, I shrugged. Not that I told very many people because I didn’t. Over the years, I’d only met a handful that I had any reason to share that information with. Most never asked because so many people took their families for granted, but these guys had. “It happened a while ago but thank you.”
The silence that followed was a little too thick. A little too long. It made me a little too uncomfortable.
“So…” I forced a smile onto my face. “Who really spilled the mayonnaise in Seattle?”
~ * ~ *
“I did not!”
Slim had his forehead to the table. “Yeah, yeah, you did.”
“You’re such a liar.”
Dex was sitting directly across from me and on his fourth or fifth beer, I’d lost count after the awkward second one, and he was laughing. Laughing from deep within his chest, the richness of it vibrating from every pore in a way that had me swinging my eyes to him each chance I got. This Dex, the one who had been joking around with our group, messing with the guys was just… a completely different person from the one I’d seen at Pins night after night.
The good mood in the booth was so contagious, I couldn't find it in me to be the quiet vibe kill. They'd pulled me out of the normally reserved nature I had around them, and had me relaxed. I felt like normal Iris—the Iris I was around Sonny, Will, and Lanie—for once while in Pins' shadowy hands.
“You were, Ritz,” he agreed with Slim. “I thought you were gonna pass out.”
I guffawed, tossing back the Shirley Temple he’d ordered for me on the waitress’ last trip. “My face turned red, but I didn’t friggin’ gasp when I saw it.” We were referring to the penis piercing incident earlier. The incident that pulled us through the last topic the guys had been laughing at: the customers who cried or screamed when they got something pierced.