Her Older Biker - Page 1

Chapter 1

Emma

“Forty-six…forty-seven and…thirty-eight cents.”

I tighten my shaking fingers around the pathetic little wad of cash—all I have left from the tiny check that the state gave me when I aged out of the foster system—and slump back into the front seat of my car. A tear slips down my cheek and I brush it away roughly.

I don’t have time to sit and feel sorry for myself.

Rising up on my knees, I twist around in my seat to rummage through the backseat, where all of my earthly possessions are piled high. I yank out my little makeup bag, along with a pair of tight blue jeans and a t-shirt that shows a little bit of my cleavage. Thrift store finds, but they’re the closest thing I have to sexy clothes. If I want to find some work tonight, they’ll have to do. I brush on some mascara, smear some blush on my cheeks before I hunch down out of view to pull on my jeans and t-shirt.

Across the parking lot, the blinking neon signs from the Saint C’s biker bar throw colorful lights through the deepening twilight, illuminating the low-slung bikes and the odd beat-up trucks that fill the parking lot.

For a girl who—as of this morning, when I got kicked out of my crappy little motel room—lives in her car, this getup is the best I can do, I think as I eye my reflection in my visor mirror and apply a last-minute coat of lip gloss. It might be a long shot, but I’ve heard that bikers are a little bit shady—maybe they would be willing to look the other way and let me sling drinks. I need cash, and I need ittonight. Tips would come in handy.

My stomach grumbles.

“No dinner for you tonight,” I sigh, and stuff my cracked old phone into my back pocket.

Showtime.

There’s no bouncer at the front door right now, so I slip inside unnoticed, eyeing my surroundings warily.

I thought a biker bar would be—well,dirtier, I guess, but this bar is surprisingly clean, with motorcycle-themed artwork everywhere, a bright jukebox in the corner, and freshly-wiped tables and booths. Leather-clad bikers in Raging Angels Motorcycle Club cuts and women in short skirts and skimpy tank tops laugh and play pool. A few couples whirl around the dance floor.

It seems kind of friendly, honestly.

Behind the bar, a petite middle-aged woman with hot pink hair and cat-eye glasses hustles drinks, juggling bottles and glasses with practiced ease, never once spilling anything. She hands out full glasses almost as fast as people can ask for them.

I sidle up to the bar and climb up onto one of the stools, leaning over the bar to get her attention.

“What’ll it be?” she says without pausing from her dizzyingly fast work.

“I—uh,” I start, unsure how to phrase the question. “I’m looking for work. Bartending, serving, whatever you need.”

She abruptly stops, cocking her head to eye me with an appraising stare. Long, glittery nails flash on her fingertips as she carefully adjusts her glasses.

“You ever tend bar?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No. But I’ll learn.”

“You ever run trays?”

I nod. “Yeah, in a diner.”

Her gaze flicks over my low-cut shirt and I want to squirm with discomfort. What was I thinking, walking into a busy biker bar assuming I could get a job? My cheeks flame with embarrassment and I’m about to hop off my stool and leave when she suddenly smiles.

“All right, get back here,” she says. “Warden might be annoyed, but I don’t care. I’m Caroline.”

I scramble off the stool and practically sprint behind the bar. Caroline tosses an apron at me and I barely have time to tie it around my waist before she shoves a big tray brimming with shot glasses at me.

“Table twelve, in the corner,” she says. “Hustle.”

I find the table without too much trouble, a big rectangle full of big bikers with women on their laps.

“You new here, sugar?” one of the women asks me with a bright smile. Unlike most of the other women at the bar, she wears a leather cut like the men, with a Raging Angels MC patch on her breast. Underneath the patch, curling embroidered letters readProperty of Giant. “Haven’t seen you before.”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m Emma. Caroline just hired me.”