Page 23 of Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC 7)

“You and Doc decided I’ve been gone for a bit? And I thought you said you weren’t a rocket scientist,” I said sarcastically.

“No, god damn it, just listen. I wasn’t fuckin’ done talkin’. So Doc and me was talkin’, and we kinda decided we needed to have a talk, you know, like just bring you up to speed on…” He paused and leaned to the side, shifting his focus to Erik.

Seated beside Erik, I turned to face him. Still maintaining eye contact on Teddy, he narrowed his gaze and relaxed into his seat.

“What?” Teddy snapped as he tossed his hands in the air. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

The waitress slid a mug and a bottle of beer onto the table. “Anything else?”

“The check,” I said as I raised my index finger.

She nodded her head. “Be right back.”

“First things first,” I said as I poured my beer into Teddy’s empty mug.

The mug held the twelve ounces of beer, and had an inch to spare. It looked identical to the mug of beer he was delivered.

He stared at the mug, shifted his eyes to his new mug, and slid the new mug beside the one I had just filled. They were identical. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the two mugs.

“How big of bottle is that?” he asked.

I pointed at the label and held it between us. “Twelve ounces.”

“No wonder this fucker’s got cheap burgers,” he murmured.

As the waitress placed the check on the table, a guy seated three booths down from where we were seated raised his hand in the air and whistled a loud shrill whistle to get her attention. Still standing at the end of our table, she glanced in his direction and turned to face our table again, rolling her eyes as she faced us.

He whistled again, this time louder.

I pushed myself out of the booth and turned toward the whistler. As his eyes met mine, he slumped into his seat.

I nodded my head toward Teddy. “You can finish your story when I get back.”

“Stay here,” I told the waitress as I stood.

“Oh shit,” I heard Teddy say as I walked away.

I walked to the table, glanced at the two men who were seated across from each other, and fixed my eyes on the one who was whistling. Both were in their mid-twenties, looked like former high school jocks, and were dressed in hockey jerseys.

“You lose your dog?” I asked as I folded my arms in front of my chest.

“I was just, I was trying to just…” he stammered.

I raised my hand in the air to stop him from continuing. I wasn’t interested in hearing whatever he had to say.

“She’s a woman, not a dog. Do you understand me?” I asked.

He nodded his head.

“Do you fucking understand me?” I asked through my teeth.

“Yes, Sir,” he responded with a nod of his head.

I uncrossed my arms and flexed my chest. “That’s better. Now, when she comes to help you, if she comes to help you, apologize. And don’t do it again. It’s rude, and it makes you look like an asshole. In the future, if you want the waitress, wave at her and smile. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” he said.

I turned, walked back to the table where we were seated, and sat down.