Peyton

The night was almost over. Eating barbeque wasn’t something I had much experience with, but so far I was enjoying it. At least until the argument started. With Navarro on my left, and Pee bee seated across from me, I felt like I was being attacked from two different directions.

“Just take a bite out of each one and tell us which one’s better,” Navarro said.

“Hold on a fuckin’ minute. Not which one is better,” Pee Bee said. “Which one feels better in your mouth. You know, texture or whatever.”

“Overall,” Navarro said.

“Yeah. What he said. Taste, texture, and if the meat’s all stringy and kinda nasty or tough to eat, don’t be afraid to say so.”

“Just stop,” I shouted. “You two are like a couple of little kids. Hold on.”

They looked the same to me, and I had no idea why they were having me sample ribs. Eating meat off a bone was pretty gross in my opinion, no matter what it was. For the sake of ending their argument, however, I agreed to give it a try.

I bit some of the meat off the rib on the left, chewed it, and swallowed it. It was kind of greasy, but it tasted good. The right rib followed, and the meat wasn’t as easy to chew, but it had great flavor.

I wiped my fingers on the napkin. There was no way to pick. Both were equally gross. I did eeny, meeny, miny, moe and picked up the rib on the right. Pee Bee’s eyes went wide and he smiled from ear to ear.

It wasn’t what I wanted.

I waved the rib in the air. “This one sucked ass.”

Pee Bee’s hand slapped the table. “Fuck!”

“Told you,” Navarro said. He held out his hand. “Pay up, sucka!”

Pee Bee dug in his wallet, and then handed him a $20 bill. “Fuck off. She’s not a rib expert.”

Navarro put the money in his pocket. “She sure picked it.”

Pee Bee glared at me. “Fuckin’ novice.”

I shrugged.

He got up and walked away, leaving Navarro and me sitting alone. Most of the other people were walking around, dancing, or just standing and talking. It was nice to meet more of Navarro’s group. Seeing the men with their girlfriends, wives, or whoever they chose to bring was nice.

“Here, I’ll toss that in the trash for you.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He took my plate and walked toward the trash can, which was up by the building. While he was walking back to the table, two guys stopped him to talk. Five minutes later, when he hadn’t returned, I glanced nervously around the packed parking lot.

Men in vests were everywhere, but it wasn’t solely FFMC’s men. Various other members of clubs were scattered about, talking to each other or just standing and drinking beers alone. I was seated at a group of picnic style tables, and as most people were walking around drinking, I was left sitting alone.

I am in control.

I am safe now.

I looked toward the building, and saw Navarro trying to make his way back to the table. After waving off a few men who tried to get him to talk, he finally sat down beside me at the table.

“Tell me the truth?”

“I’m bound by a promise, remember?”

He chuckled. “Oh, yeah.”

“What’s the question?”

“The rib. The one you picked up. Were you going to say that it was the good one, and then you changed your mind when you saw Peeb celebrating?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“You didn’t like the other one?”

“It was kinda weird. They were both gross, but the other one was more gross.”

He twisted his mouth to the side. “Fuck.”

“Fuck what?”

“I’m going to have to give him his money back.”

I shrugged. “Maybe wait till tomorrow. It’d be more fun.”

“I’ll probably do that.”

“Thanks, by the way. I don’t remember if I told you that. But thanks.”

“For?”

“Letting me come.”

“I didn’t let you come,” he said. “I asked you to come. There’s a difference.”

It seemed like splitting hairs to me. “Thanks for asking me to come.”

He grinned, but I was left wondering what he meant by what he said. It gnawed on me for a minute, and then I asked.

“What’s the difference? Between letting me and asking me?”

“Letting you would be agreeing to allow you to come if you asked if you could. If you said, hey can I come to your barbeque? Asking you to come means I wanted you to come, and I asked you, because I wanted you here.”

I liked the difference that he explained, but I wanted to know more. There was no way that Navarro and I would ever amount to anything more than elbow-rubbing associates, but it was nice to dream.

Now that I knew him better, I found him to be so much more than an intriguing biker. He was caring, could be kind, and most of what others saw in him was a hard outer layer that he used to protect his significantly more sensitive inner being.

Getting through the outer shell wasn’t easy, though.

“Why’d you ask me? Or why’d you want me?”

His response was quick and without thought or hesitation.

“I like you,” he said.

It wasn’t much.

In fact, I’d been told a lot more than that from lesser men over the years. But, coming from Navarro, it was pretty fucking significant.

At least to me.

The sound of the people, the music, and even what I could see of my surroundings all became insignificant. Elizabeth told me to always be aware of my surroundings, but at that moment I wasn’t.

And it didn’t matter.

I had tunnel vision, and all I could see was Navarro.

I leaned forward. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

He leaned into me, and kissed me lightly on the lips.

“I’m not broken,” I said. “Really.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, pulled me into him, and kissed me like I had never been kissed.

Ever.

My mind raced. His beard against my face reminded me that he was a real man, and I liked it.

Both of my palms went sweaty and I wiped them on my shirt. Passion filled me from head to toe, and a tingling shot through me, shaking me to my core. Our tongues intertwined and we fought to find the perfect spot for our hands to land, but it seemed to never happen.

While we continued to grope and kiss, Pee Bee’s complaint brought us both back to the reality of the situation.

“Get a fuckin’ room, Crip!”

Our mouths parted. I looked at him.

He looked back at me.

He stood and reached for my hand.

“What?” I asked.

“Come on,” he said.

The party wasn’t over, and I knew he really didn’t want to go anywhere. I loved kissing him, but making out in the shop on the bench would just ruin it for me.

“Where are we going?”

“To my house,” he said. “We need to be laying on something squishy.”

Something squishy.

I like that.