1. Manny

1

MANNY

Present day

NOLA REBELS MC CLUBHOUSE

I shut the oven door and run my hands over my apron.

“Something smells good.”

I look up and see Harlem, the NOLA Rebels club Enforcer, lounging in the doorway. He might seem scary to some with his larger-than-life build; the man was built like a Buick, but he’s a pussycat underneath. Well, to those who are on his good side. I can’t say the same for anyone else. The man is not someone I’d like to run into in a dark alley if I could help it. But Harlem took me in when I was down and out. He took a chance on me when Stella, his daughter, and I became fast friends when I turned up at the Soup Kitchen. It’s run by some good people at the local church and Priest and Bella are there all the time. Priest is the club’s Chaplain and spiritual advisor, Bella is his ol’ lady. Stella likes art too and that’s how we got talking one day. She was kind to me and didn’t judge. I was too proud to ask Shep for help, wanting to make it on my own, and later he kicked my ass for not saying something. I’ve never wanted a handout, but in a lot of ways the Soup Kitchen saved my life. Harlem helped set me up with cooking classes to refine my skills, and the rest is history. The club hired me after I fed them my famous gumbo, followed by berry cobbler, and I had them in the palm of my hands.

The club Prez, Cash, isn’t always the most agreeable man, but this whole club is like a family to me. Accepting me and all my eccentricities. Not judging me because I’m a little different. They’ve no idea how much they saved me.

When I left high school, I bummed around, lying to Shep when he’d check in on me. I’d convinced myself that Shep was going places, and I didn’t want to halt that progress. Really, it was an excuse to get out of my hometown and away from my abusive parents. I’d felt enough shame over high school without delving into that with my unlikely friend. Still, Shep’s loyalty never wavered. He’s currently signed with the Dallas Cowboys, and still, to this day, is one of my best friends.

The delicious waft of my famous beef and bourbon pie permeates the kitchen; the rich, hearty dish is a favorite of the club’s. You can’t really beat steak, red wine and garlic wrapped up in a buttery pastry and baked for sixty minutes, resting for two hours after.

“You know, I only bake for good boys, H, and your ol’ lady tells me that you’ve not been a very good boy lately.” His ol’ lady, Indigo, and all the ol’ ladies of the club are some of my best friends. We’re in a group chat that the boys, except me, aren’t privy to.

“She been tellin’ tales about me again?”

I tap my nose. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Lucky I know you’re just friends with my ol’ lady, a man might get the wrong impression.”

I snort. “Yeah, I like my nutsack exactly where it is.”

The club knows I’m bi. I don’t have a preference, but I’ve been more into men than women lately, not that I’ve gotten my pole wet in a while. This damn club is so demanding and needy it makes it difficult to have any free time. Still, they pay me ridiculously well, and I have my own apartment now, something I never thought would ever happen when I’ve always been told I’d amount to nothing. I’ve also got a new roommate, someone I’m kinda crushing on, but she’s not looking at starting something. I’ve been around the block a time or two, and casual hook-ups aren’t my thing, though, everyone in the club would likely tell you differently. The guys like to keep up appearances, even when most of them are pussy whipped. I chuckle at the thought, and Harlem cocks a brow.

“You good?”

I wave him off. “Get your butt over here and try this. You know I always give you the biggest serving, that is, until Tag barges his way in here and gobbles the entire tray.” Tag is the club’s Sergeant At Arms, and even bigger and scarier than Harlem. His ol’ lady Luna and I are close, as well as Cash’s ol’ lady Deanna, who I nicknamed Arizona because that’s where she hails from. You could say, I’m a bit of a shoulder to cry on for the ladies and some of the guys.

I don’t mind. It’s nice to be needed, and it’s the only respect I’ve ever gotten, aside from Shep. I’d die for this club.

“Tag is a greedy fuck, that’s why.” He moves toward me and I happily divide up the huge baking dish and plop a piece on the nearby plate. It makes me happy feeding people. Like it’s my mission in life.

I watch him take a bite, and even though he’s had this very same pie a million times, he still groans when the first mouthful hits his taste buds. “You’re a genius.”

“Say that a little louder, when the boss is present.”

He smirks. “You know I’m gonna have to work harder at the gym to work off all this food.”

I roll my eyes. “Really, H? You’re in fine form, and Indi loves you just as you are. I wouldn’t worry your precious cotton socks over a little pastry.”

Out of nowhere, he points a fork at me, as if suddenly remembering why he’s here. “You know anythin’ about Stella and Callaghan?” The question comes out of nowhere. Of course I know about it. She tells me everything.

Cale Callaghan is a police officer who likes to try and make the club’s life hell. He’s also easy on the eyes, and a few months back, he and Stella were seen by Tag and Riot, the Club’s Secretary, having an intimate conversation. Of course, Tag nipped that in the bud and ordered Callaghan out of his workshop. Stella’s only nineteen, and Callaghan is twenty-six. He and Cash don’t exactly like one another, and the boss is convinced the young cop is ready to bring this club down. What Callaghan has probably discovered by now is that the club isn’t 1%. We don’t do illegal shit. Okay, not saying the club doesn’t get involved in making people disappear and hand out their own personal justice from time to time, but they don’t sell drugs, guns or traffic humans. In fact, the club is deadly against the latter.

“About him snoopin’ around Tag’s workshop? That was ages ago.”

He gives me a stern look, which I ignore, pretending to busy myself with the next tray of steaming goodness coming out of the oven. “Not that. Him and Stella. Are they doin’ anythin’?”

I balk. “I doubt she’d be getting involved with someone like Cale Callaghan, H. He’s also by the book, he wouldn’t be doing anything until she’s older. Which means you have a couple more years yet.”

“That supposed to be funny?”

I shrug. “No, but it’s the truth.” What I don’t tell him is that Stella has a major crush on him, and if anyone was gonna pursue anything between them two, it would be her.

“Long as you are tellin’ me the truth. I know the ladies around here got you under their thumb.”

I laugh out loud, almost dropping the tray as I set it down on the cooling rack. “That’s a good one. They may think that, but we all know it isn’t dick that makes the world go around here, it’s my cooking.” I can say that with absolute certainty and not feel like a douchebag saying it.

Harlem snorts, going back to his food. “You make a good point.”

I lean on the counter. “Don’t you know I’ve earned my stripes now after rescuing Riot that time not so long ago?”

“You won’t shut up about that, will you?” His soft chuckle has me laughing, too.

I was involved in a rescue a short while back, and though Cash may have been out of options where back up was concerned — the rest of the MC had been split up, so I jumped in — it was exhilarating, and kinda scary all rolled into one. I won’t be volunteering to go on anymore rescue missions if I can help it, though I’m glad that Riot was okay, and that I had a hand in freeing him.

“I think I may even be getting patched in.”

Harlem looks up at me, his face softening. “You deserve it.”

I grin. “One day.” The club loves me, I know that, but earning my own patch in this MC would be something else. I ride a Harley, of course, but to earn a patch means you get a cut, too; a motorcycle jacket with your club name on the front, your position, and the club’s logo on the back.

I am just the cook, after all, so I never expect that to happen.

“Hey!” Lace pops her head through the door. She’s Riot’s little sister, and someone I’ve become closer to ever since we spent a night out together at Vault XL; the new male strip joint in town.

My cheeks flush a little when I remember how hot that was, and how Lace was so excited to be partying with her friends. I know she has baggage, not that she’s told me much, but she’s got pain behind those big hazel eyes. I know because I’m really good at reading people.

Lace was also seeing someone who worked at Vault XL, but I assumed she just meant one of the bouncers because she never told me who it was. She spent a lot of time eyeing up another club member, Bandit, while we were there; he’s Indigo’s little brother, also known as Jonah, and a male stripper when he’s not fixing cars.

He’s also very easy on the eyes, covered in tattoos and has a body made for sin. Not that I’ve noticed. He’s also got the sweetest little kid, Eli, who he adores. Indigo confessed that her brother lost his wife in a hit and run while pregnant with Eli and only he survived. The very idea that someone could do something like that still repulses me as much now as it did when she first told me. I’ve always had a soft spot for him. Not that he’s gay or anything. The man gets plenty of chicks, but he’s always very broody and quiet. He and Indigo had a crazy father who ran a rival MC, and all the shit that went on there was bad. I feel for them.

“Hey, Chantilly.” I beam. I love nicknaming people. It’s my thing. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

Harlem gives her a chin lift, his attention still focussed on his large meal.

“I’m just running some errands. Was wondering if you’d like to come?”

Lace moved here recently, and I know for a fact that Riot is worried about her. She can be a little wild. Just how wild, he has no clue. On a night out drinking, I can attest to the fact that she can get pretty loose, though she didn’t take anyone home after the strip club. She’s attractive. Mid-height. Shoulder length honey colored hair. Pretty skin and a rack that I’d have no problem paying attention to if I got the chance. Tits fascinate me, and contrary to popular opinion, I fucking love women.

“I’d love that, can you give me five, buttercup? Just dealin’ with Hungry Horace over here.”

I thumb toward Harlem as he grunts and looks around for the rest of the pie. Lace giggles.

I did make like five, but still, it has to feed the whole committee of ten, and then the stragglers. “If you eat it all, I’m a dead man.”

“Gimme’ one more slice, I won’t say a word.”

“When you say it like that…” I cut him some more, then shoo him out of the kitchen. I should put some damn locks on my doors.

Lace walks closer to me. She looks cute today. She’s wearing a skirt with these suspenders that clip to the hem and stretch up her body, over her crisp white shirt, finishing the look with knee-high boots. Her hair is set in soft waves, her mouth plump and my dick stirs. Jesus.

I’ve not been attracted to a woman like her in a long time. I’ll say it again until I die; it’s about the connection for me. It always has been.

“That smells amazing.”

“Would you like some?”

She shakes her head. “I’d love to, but I’ve got a viewing in about half an hour.”

“A viewing?”

“A rental. I’ve been staying with Hope, but that can’t last forever. I feel bad I’m taking up room on her couch.” Hope is Priest’s sister, she also just moved here some months back.

“Oh, baby girl, you know Hope doesn’t mind, but you need your own space. I get it. You could eat while I drive, if you’d like.”

Her eyes sparkle, and I swallow hard. Maybe it’s the lack of sex, I’m not sure, but my dick is rock hard. “You’d do that for me?”

I grin. “Don’t you know? I’m the shoulder to cry on, the man to lean on, the Obi Wan of the MC. I fix all problems. Well, mostly food related problems.”

She laughs. “When you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

I lean down, grabbing a Tupperware container and some cutlery, and then I cut through some more pie and fold it into the container, handing it to her. “Voila.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re the sweetest?” She leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

My eyes go wide for a fraction of a second, and my heart skips a beat. I cover my shock well. “All the time,” I sigh. “Old news, Chantilly.”

She hugs the container to her chest. “You’re the best.”

I’ve got a few hours before I need to get back and make the mashed potatoes. Pulling off my apron, I hang it up and wash my hands. “You know rentals around here are a little crazy.”

“I know,” she sighs. “Half my take home pay, or a little more. I’m worried I’ll have to start stripping to make rent.”

I almost choke on my saliva as I laugh. “I don’t think you’re quite at that point, honey.”

She pouts, then whispers. “I’ve stripped before.”

I do not need this kind of torture. The one where Lace stars in my dreams naked, her come-hither eyes all over me. I try to keep my voice even when I say, “You have?” Though, it sounds more like a squeak.

“Does that shock you?”

I sidle up next to her. “Nothing shocks me, sweetheart. I put the ‘O’ in orgasm.”

She giggles. It’s such a sweet sound. Her neat and tidy appearance and cute little giggles are contrary to that dirty little mouth of hers. Her lips part, and my eyes drop to them. I’m speechless for a second. “Well, it was in college.” She shrugs. “I was drunk and at a party, wait, did you think I mean like in a club?”

I don’t tell her I was more thinking Only Fans, but that I’d prefer to be the only viewer. I’m relieved when the subject doesn’t even come up. I’m no prude, but so many people are turning to that app and I don’t think all of it is for the better.

“We have been to a strip joint together, might I remind you?”

She bites her lip. “It’s okay to say you were hard, Manny. It was hot.”

I swallow even harder. Why does she just blurt these things out without warning?

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“Anyone get you hard in particular?”

My mind flicks to Bandit who was working the club that night. Yep, he strips as a sideline when he’s not covered in oil and grease. I shouldn’t be thinking that way about him. He’s straight. But I mean, it’s okay for me to look. He had no freaking clothes on, for Christ's sake. And while he wasn’t completely naked, you can tell through his tight briefs that man is hung like a horse…

“No one in particular.” I lean toward her. “I like women too.” The minute the words leave my mouth, I want to slap myself. Talk about making it obvious, dipshit.

“Oh?” She pats over her heart with her palm rapidly. “Be still my beating heart.”

I grin. “I thought you knew that.”

She slaps me on the arm playfully. “I do, silly. I’m just messing with you.”

Talk about beating a dead man’s horse.

Then she crawls her two fingers up my chest. “You’re cute, Manny. But I’m not sure if you’re a little too pure for me.” My dick throbs between my legs, she’s so fucking flirty.

“Honey, I may look cute, but don’t you know it’s always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for?” I waggle my eyebrows. We’ve always had this flirty banter that I’ve grown to love over the past few months, and I like hanging with her. Even if I know she’s been seeing other guys and doesn’t look at me twice.

“I don’t know. You were so sweet when we went out together. You didn’t get nuts, which isn’t a bad thing. In fact, you were the perfect gentleman.”

I made sure that I didn’t act crazy that night; I had several of the club girls in my care. I wasn’t about to get drunk and disorderly and leave them all hanging. That’s not what happens when you’re part of this club. Okay, it’s not as if the club wouldn’t have had their prospects watching our every move. Despite that, I was in charge of their safety, which is a big deal.

“I don’t know about the perfect gentleman, but you know something, sweetheart? Good guys can be just as much fun. Most asshat’s don’t know how to treat a woman. Plus, good guys always have your back.” I let the words hang. Letting her really hear it. I’ve got ears. I know she’s had a string of loser boyfriends, and while I’m all about expressing yourself sexually — as long as you’re in a safe environment, and it’s consensual — I get the feeling that Lace has never had the time of her life.

She bites her lip and I know I’ve said too much. Then she links her arm through mine. “I think you could be right.”

I smile. “Where am I driving you?”

She sighs. “You’re really going to let me eat?”

I thumb toward my chest. “Good guy, remember?”

“You’re the best.”

I just wish to God I wasn’t in the friend zone.