Jasper

Out of all the Jasper’s Grill locations, the Houston location had the worst office. Wood-paneling covered every wall, and the green shag carpet was threadbare and dusty. The building used to be an all-day buffet, but I’d bought it for cheap and remodeled every square inch, except for the office. That particular project had been sitting at the bottom of my to-do list for a few years, and I had no hope that it would ever find its way to the top.

I wouldn’t use the office at all if the location weren’t so primo. The restaurant sat just off the interstate, far enough away from the city and its suburbs that we didn’t have many regular customers, and a huge empty field stretched out behind it. As far as a low-key place to conduct MC business, it was perfect.

I’d promised myself a day off because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had one, but my phone rang moments before I could seal the deal with a model I’d met at an MC party the weekend before. She was a hand model, though the rest of her body seemed worthy of being photographed, as well. But her hands. Just thinking about what she could do with them was enough to nearly send me over the edge.

Two loud knocks on the side door of the office, which acted as a private entrance from the parking lot directly to my office, forced me to push the thought out of my head and compose myself.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Tats and Bear walked in, a third man strung between them, his face swollen and bloody. I didn’t know how long I’d been in the office, but the sky had gone dark, so it must have been a few hours, at least. They threw the man on the floor and moved to close the door.

Tats, aptly named because of the tattoos running across every inch of his skin, guarded the side door, and Bear, named for his sheer size, moved to guard the door from my office to the main restaurant. The third man, name still unknown, cowered in the center of the office. His Kutte bore the colors of the Jagged Jackals MC, which was already one strike. Actually, the Jaggad Jackals were our biggest rivals, so it was at least worth two strikes. One strike to go.

“What seems to be the problem?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and kicking my feet up on the desk.

I wanted to seem relaxed and composed, even though I was annoyed at being called in on my day off and even more annoyed because the no-name Jackal was bleeding on my carpet. The green shag was hideous enough without the blood stains.

Tats had already filled me in on the phone. He and Bear had gone together for a drug pickup and discovered the no-name was skimming some off the top and overcharging. Though the Jagged Jackals were our biggest rivals, finding top shelf drugs was no easy task, and we usually put away our differences in the name of a good high.

No one wanted to make deals with an unknown, in case they were an undercover cop, and making a deal with our enemy was better than being locked up. But nothing could sour a working relationship faster than cheating someone out of what they paid for. And based on the bizarre angle of his nose, the no-name clearly hadn’t counted on Tats bringing his own scale and on Bear being a former boxing champ.

“A misunderstanding,” he said around broken teeth, blood dribbling down his chin.

Tats snorted. “A misunderstanding? The only thing he misunderstood is that we aren’t idiots he can fool into paying full price for half the product.”

Honestly, Tats was an idiot, so no-name had that right. No-name had, however, failed to understand that Tats was an addicted idiot. Tats didn’t know much, but he knew his drugs.

“It won’t happen again,” he said. “Let me go, and I’ll give you a discount. Twenty-five percent. Fifty-percent!”

“How long have you been cheating us?” I asked, keeping my face neutral, not giving anything away. I needed to keep the man calm if I didn’t want anyone in the restaurant to overhear what was happening less than twenty feet away from them. The office had great insulation, but I still didn’t need to deal with a man screaming for his life to be spared.

“This is the first time,” he said. “It was an accident, and it will never happen again.” When that failed to get a reaction, the man continued, “All Hellions buy at a deep discount.”

“All Hellions?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

The man nodded furiously, bloody saliva dripping from his fat lip.

“That’s very generous,” I said. “But unfortunately—”

“Please, no,” he said, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “I have a family.”

“Don’t interrupt.” I leaned across my desk, lip pulled up in a snarl. “It’s rude.”

I couldn’t let Tats, Bear, or anyone in my club see me disrespected. Leading the Hellions meant demanding complete and total obedience at all times. I took care of problems, and I made tough calls because I had to. If they thought for a minute I was going soft, I’d be dead, and someone else would be at the helm.

I leaned back in my chair, the springs squeaking under my weight. “We all have families,” I said to no-name, picking a fleck of dirt out from under my fingernail. “But we all don’t make bad deals. That’s just you.”

I turned to Bear, who was standing next to the door, a grin spread across his face. If Tats knew drugs, Bear knew violence, and he was eager for it. “Take him out back.”

No-name crumpled onto the floor, his face downturned, a stream of indecipherable pleas pouring from his lips. Tats and Bear moved to either side of him and hauled him up, though his legs refused to bear any weight. It didn’t matter. Tats and Bear carried him out the door as though he weighed nothing.

“Bear,” I called. Bear turned and popped his head back through the door. “Send his body to Angel. I’m sure he’ll be wondering what happened to his drug guy. We need him to understand that the Hellions won’t be taken advantage of again.”

Bear nodded and pulled the door closed.

No sooner had the door closed than a knock came from the inner office door, the one connected to the restaurant.

“Come in,” I said, knowing who it would be before the door even opened.

Joy popped her head in, her red hair hanging in limp strands around her face. “Hey, J,” she said. “Good to see you again.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, though I didn’t share the sentiment.

Joy had always irritated me. The way she fawned over me and the rest of the Hellions, hungry for even a sliver of attention, made her seem desperate. Sure, the waitresses did the same thing. Truthfully, most women acted similarly around me, but they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know that I’d ordered people to be murdered, that I straddled the line between good and evil. But Joy knew, and she didn’t care. Joy wanted this life, and despite being the leader of one of the toughest MCs around, I couldn’t imagine why any respectable woman would choose this.

I needed Joy though. It was nice to have someone managing the restaurants who knew about my double life. It made it much easier for me to come and go as I pleased, and to ensure I wouldn’t be bothered with the mundane day-to-day operations.

“Have you seen the numbers this quarter?” she asked, nervous eyes flicking towards the floor.

I grimaced and gave a terse nod. The numbers had been dropping steadily since the first news report had been published. It was mostly conjecture, gossip that had been run through the rumor mill so many times it passed only the vaguest of resemblances to the truth. Still, that didn’t stop people from believing it.

Apparently, I headed up an arm of the mafia and ran a sex trafficking ring. The article had been pulled and a clarification issued in the next day’s newspaper, but the seed had been planted. Families don’t want to take their children to a Jasper’s Grill if there is even a hint of a possibility that it could be part of a crime ring.

Even as that news began to fall into disrepute, my name was still driving traffic online. Gossip sites questioned my sexuality, pointing out that I’d never been seen with a woman and close-up pictures of my hands showed no wedding ring. The proverbial “they” wrote that I was arrogant and confrontational, that my “quizzical brow spoke to a world of secrets behind my pretty face.”

That line was a particular favorite of mine. Petitions were being passed around online for my restaurants to be closed because they were bad for the community and for business. My public image, while more popular than ever before, was taking a real beating, and so were my profits.

Joy handed me her phone, the screen illuminated with a new article only a few hours old:

Jasper Black Gay; Linked to Crime Ring

“It’s Texas,” she said, taking her phone back and shaking her head. “It’s still a very conservative area. Maybe being seen around with a... girlfriend... would help?” She hesitated over the sentence expectantly, her eyebrows rising so there was no misunderstanding her intentions.

But the day I was seen on the town with Joy would be the day I completely lost my mind. I’d rather go bankrupt because a mob of social conservatives burned my restaurants to the ground than have anyone think I would date a woman like Joy. It wasn’t just because she was unattractive –though she was. It was more because she embodied everything I hated – a desperate need to be liked and validated by those around her, no initiative to improve her circumstances, and no backbone to speak of.

“Thanks, Joy,” I said, my tone finite, dismissing her.

“Of course,” she said, half-bowing before she thought better of it and left.

I rolled my eyes, unable to refrain even though there was no one in the room to see it.

Joy had made a good point; being seen with a woman would solve at least part of my problems, but between the restaurants and the Hellions, I didn’t have time for a steady relationship. More than that, I had no patience for it.

The convenience of bedding any woman I wanted, in whatever town I happened to be in at the time, was too good to consider letting go of. The woman who finally convinced me to give up my bachelor lifestyle would have to be one hell of a woman.