CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
In contrast to her first impression of JJ's Auto, Manda liked The Hangar right away.
The exterior, with corrugated white steel siding and deep blue metal roof, meant the place was modern, but the neon sign rising above the parking lot had a retro vibe. It depicted a silver, old-fashioned prop plane with the words 'The Hangar' arcing over the top in big red letters, and 'Brewpub & Grill' below in smaller red letters. At least there was no lacy bra hanging off this sign, unlike the propeller over the Flyers' clubhouse doors.
A low post-and-rail in front of the building, to one side of the handicapped spaces, held a sign that read 'Motorcycle Parking Only'. In direct violation of this command, T parked his pickup beside three gleaming Harleys. But she guessed since it was his friends' bar, he could park where he wanted.
The interior of The Hangar was casual and comfortable, with soft lighting, lots of wood, a double row of red-upholstered booths in the front, high-top tables throughout the middle. Most of the patrons wore jeans, although the two men in suits at a table, and the three women in business casual at another, did not look out of place.
The big, L-shaped room was divided by a waist-high railing, denoting restaurant from bar area, with high-tops on both sides and a long bar up against the mirrored back wall. Three pool tables filled a corner of the bar, with two of the Flyers wearing their cuts chalking pool cues for a game.
On the walls hung old black and white photos of military planes, and of bikers with their motorcycles. Basketball games played on three big screen TVs mounted up high, and classic rock played from the speakers.
It smelled good, of savory food with a hint of freshly poured beer.
The clack of pool balls cut through the hum of voices and the clatter of metal from the kitchen. Most of the tables were full. Lesa was carrying out plates to a table of four, while a lean redhead worked the other side of the restaurant. Both women wore snug, white tees with the Hangar logo on the front.
"We'll sit at the bar," T said, his big hand on Manda's back. "If a table comes free, we can grab it, if you want."
"The bar is fine with me." She threaded her way through the busy tables with him, her mouth watering at the delicious lunches customers were eating, but also thinking about how good his hand felt, and how good it felt when other women looked at him and then at her with a tinge of envy in their gazes.
Just wishing they were the woman with him, of course. Manda knew her good features, she had nice skin now that she was through with teen acne, and her legs were pretty good. But her hair was straight no matter what anyone tried to do to it. And she had a big butt, and not enough on top to balance that. She wore a little more eyeshadow to make up for her lack of buoyant hair, and tried to buy outfits to flatter her figure.
The Hangar's bar was a long stretch of gleaming wood with a long row of taps, a soda fountain and a mirrored wall behind it. Streak was behind the bar, while Pete chatted with a table of customers in the bar area.
Manda tensed when she saw that three of the bar stools were filled by Flyers', their club vests on prominent display.
One of these was the rock star guy who'd been at the hospital. However, today he wasn't smiling at her the way he had then. Today he grinned at T and then gave her a nod, his dark gaze blank. Manda's own smile slid away, and she looked away and wished she and T were anywhere else.
"Hey, babe," T said, his beard brushing her hair. "You okay? Let's get you a chair, you're prob'ly tired out after all your work this mornin'."
He urged her toward a high-top table with four chairs next to the bar. It still bore dishes from earlier customers, but Manda didn't mind this at all. Because she suddenly realized that T was right, she was feeling tired, and her head was starting to ache again.
"Thank you," she said as he all but lifted her into one of the chairs. "I'm fine."
His hazel eyes bored into hers, full of concern. "You sure? I'll get you some water, so you can take your painkillers. Then we'll get you fed."
"Hi, you two. Welcome, sorry about this mess." Lesa appeared, smiling at both of them, and quickly began clearing the table to a tray. This she handed off to Streak, and quickly wiped down the table for them. "There. Now, let me get you some menus and waters."
She whisked away, and another young woman, just as pretty, with lighter hair but the same pretty eyes took her place. She wore a fitted brown leather jacket, over a green plaid shirt, cute layered tees of light and medium green, and jeans. "Hi," she said to Manda. "I'm Billie. And you're Manda, obvs. How are you?" The sweet, serious look she gave Manda said her concern was genuine.
"She's worn out, is how she is," T boomed, reaching to put his arm around Manda. "Brought her to JJ's with me this morning. Came in after a carb rebuild, and she'd cleaned the whole office—windows, john, and everything in between."
Billie's eyes widened. "Wow. That was really nice. I wouldn't have touched that office without a mask and gloves." She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
T laughed. "Told me she shoulda had a hazmat suit for the john."
At this, Billie giggled, such an infectious sound Manda had to laugh with her. Until Rocker appeared, slid his arm around the tall, gorgeous woman and pulled her into his side. "Hey, babe. Wanna sit with T?"
Billie gazed up at him with clear adoration. "Hi, honey. Sure, if he and Manda don't mind."
Rocker looked at Manda and raised his brows in silent question, or maybe a challenge, she wasn't sure. But it made her uneasy.
"Sure," she said, looking back at Billie, who seemed really nice. "Sounds great."
The big, blond and handsome Pete appeared as soon as the other couple sat, with three tall glasses of beer and a glass of ice water.
"Here you go," he announced. "Anybody need a menu?" Since he looked at the others as he spoke, they all shook their heads.
"All right. Lesa'll be back soon for your orders." He started to turn away.
T spoke, more sharply than Manda had yet heard him. "Hey, Brews. Manda needs a menu, and likely something to drink besides water."
As Pete turned back, raising his brows in a look of bland inquiry, Manda flushed miserably, her headache suddenly worse. "No, I'm fine," she said. "I'll just have whatever T-Bear's having."
"Yeah, fuck that," T rumbled. He reached over to an adjoining table, and plucked a menu from beneath the startled gaze of a young guy wearing a shirt from a local hardware store, and handed it to Manda. Then he stood, glaring at the other Flyers. "Brews, Rock, talk to you for a minute."
He stomped off. Pete and Rocker exchanged a look, and then followed him toward a door in the back wall of the bar area.
"Oh, geez," Billie breathed. Manda fumbled in her little purse for the bottle of painkillers, and managed to get one out. She chugged it with a long drink of ice water, and looked to the young couple at the next table. "Here, please take this back." She held the menu out.
"No, no," the guy said, shifting in his chair. "We was done looking anyway."
She tried to smile at him and the girl with him, who gave Manda a look that was both sympathetic and wary. As one would when a ginger giant in a biker cut had acted so rudely, Manda thought. Or maybe it was the bruises on her own face. Oh, God, the girl probably thought Manda was an abused girlfriend.
Billie leaned in, making an 'eek!' face to Manda. "Embarrassing as heck at times, aren't they?" she asked. "The Flyer brothers just do what they want, in public or not. And all we can do is let it go, or lay into them later. 'Cause they do not like to be 'bitched at' in public."
Manda’s eyes widened. "You 'lay into' Rocker?"
"Oh, yeah. Wanna know how? I just channel Sheenah, my avatar."
She looked completely serious, so Manda nodded. "Right. Glad that, uh, works for you."
Billie wrinkled her nose. "Oh, geez. I just outted myself as a total gamer geek, didn't I? Now you'll think I'm a nut."
"Compared to some of the other people I've met lately, nope," Manda answered with complete truthfulness.
"Yeah, T told me about what happened to you, with your ex and his slime-ball friend and all."
"He did?" Oh, great. Now this gorgeous biker babe knew what a loser she was.
"Yeah, of course. T and me are friends. He asked me to shop for you, and gotta say, looking at you, I did a darn good job. Of course with your face, and that hair, you'd look good in anything."
Manda stared at her. "Um... thank you so much for the shopping. But... what?"
Billie gave her a strange look, and then smiled slowly. "You don't have any idea how pretty you are, do you?" She turned to her sister, who chose this moment to reappear. "Lesa, tell her."
Lesa shook her head good-humoredly. "Tell her what, baby sis?"
"Well, how pretty she is—with those eyes and that hair. Geez, Manda, you look like one of those commercials where the girl just smiles at the camera and swings her hair out in slo-mo, all shiny and perfect. And you know very well it's not the shampoo that does all that, but you go buy it anyway."
"True," Lesa agreed, her gaze skating politely over Manda’s bruises. "And now we're gonna quit embarrassing you, right, Billie?" She set a frosty glass of soda before Manda. "T says you like Coke, so I brought you one of those. But didn't you get a menu? So sorry about that, I'll grab one for you."
"I did get one," Manda said. Not that she'd looked at it, she'd been too embarrassed. "Um, what do you suggest?"
"Well, T's fave is our double-cheeseburger, but don't order that unless you're starving, 'cause they are big. I'd go with a single, and you can have regular fries, sweet potato fries or salad with that. Also, we have other sandwiches, and pizza, and salads. We even have a vegetarian burger now—'cause I made it happen."
"Has anyone ordered that yet?" Billie asked, grinning.
Lesa lifted her chin. "No, but they can if they want. Every good restaurant has vegetarian on the menu now—even the big chains."
This was true. "I'll have a single cheeseburger, please," Manda said. "And a salad."
"Me too," said Billie. "'Cause we can steal fries off the guys' plates. And Rocker will have the double cheese with sweet potato fries."
"I don't know what T wants," Manda said, looking nervously at the door where he and the other two men had disappeared. "They're coming back, right?"
She hoped they weren't out back, indulging in some bad-ass biker standoff in which they brandished knives and/or brass knuckles and threatened each other with bodily harm.
"Oh, they'll be back soon," Lesa said easily. "T's probably just telling his bros to butt out of his business."
"They're kind of... protective of him," Billie added. "Especially since Krystelle." She said the name with an exaggerated flourish.
Jealousy dug its claws in Manda, hard. "Who is she?"
Lesa snorted. "No one you need to worry about. Just a stupid bitch who couldn't see how great T is. But she won't be showing her fake boobies around the club or this place anytime soon. Anyway, I'll go get your orders in."
She hurried away, pausing to smile at the young couple next to them, and take their orders. Manda pulled the paper wrapper off her soda straw, and crumpled it into a tiny ball.
"You truly don't need to be jealous of Krystelle," Billie told her, evidently reading Manda's mind. "She's just a stripper from the Line. They're always hanging around the Flyers clubhouse , trying to get an 'in' with the guys."
"What's the line?" Manda asked, mostly to sidetrack herself from obsessing about how different this Krystelle must look from her. Not worry about a woman with a lithe stripper bod and fake boobs? Right. Maybe in her next life. In this one, it was like telling a—a house cat not to worry about racing against a cheetah.
"The Line? Oh, its a strip club out at State Line, where the guys like to go," Billie said. "Seriously, though, T wasn't that into her. And then she stole his cash and phone while he was asleep, so now he really doesn't want to see the bitch again."
Manda sipped her Coke, cold and sweet, and absorbed this information.
So this Krystelle had been in T's bedroom at the club, for an obvious reason—sex.
God, if T was into strippers, what the heck did he see in her? Of course Rezan had thrust her into T's face on a platter, so maybe T had just taken what was available when he was on the rebound.
One thing was for sure—it sounded like she and he had about the same luck with exes.