chapter 2

Let's go see what the hell Tank wants."

Tank, her new boyfriend, stood at a towering six-and-a-half feet, with muscles that could rival watermelons. He belonged to a biker club called the Gold Vipers. I had only met him twice, and I couldn't deny that he intimidated me. It wasn't that he had been anything but polite, but there was an air of danger surrounding him—a sense of unlawfulness that made me uneasy.

Krystal seemed oblivious to it all, or maybe she just didn't care. Her father had left many years ago, and her mother, Bonnie, had never been much of an influential figure. So perhaps she craved the excitement that Tank brought into her life.

"I wonder if he has something for me," Krystal pondered, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. "A present."

I teased, "What, like a ring? You've only been on a few dates, mostly quick hook-ups."

"Or even better, a new tongue ring," she replied playfully. "Do you have any idea how amazing it feels to have a pierced tongue between your legs?"

I raised my hand in protest. "Stop right there. I haven't had enough to drink to hear about Tank and his tongue."

Krystal giggled mischievously. "Well, it's definitely not going to be a ring for my finger. Tank made it clear last weekend that he's not the marrying type. Most of the guys in the club have 'Old Ladies' and kids, but they don't usually go down the marriage route."

I furrowed my brow. "What do you mean by 'Old Lady'?"

"I'm talking about the women they go home to at night—the ones they live with, take care of, and have their kids with."

That's typically called a 'wife'," I dryly remarked, trying to wrap my head around the unconventional dynamics of the MC world.

Krystal shook her head. "Not in the MC world. They have Old Ladies, and," she dropped a bombshell on me, "they have their club whores." She pronounced it as "hures," emphasizing the rawness of the term.

My jaw nearly hit the floor. "Are you serious?"

"As shit," she replied with a grim smile.

"A club whore? Are you saying that she hangs out with them and they pay her for sex?" I asked, struggling to grasp the concept.

I don't think any of them get paid for it," Krystal explained. "They hang out and make themselves available for fucking, anytime, any day."

I stared at her wide-eyed, trying to comprehend the intensity of this revelation. "So, in other words, she's like a groupie?"

Krystal chuckled. "I guess so. Except these guys ride bikes instead of buses."

I couldn't help but ask the burning question, "Does Tank have an Old Lady?"

She hesitated for a moment before answering, her jaw set firmly. "No. At least, I hope to fuck not."

The thought of Tank being involved with such a complicated web of relationships left me feeling uneasy. The world of MC clubs seemed like an entirely different universe, governed by its own set of rules and unconventional partnerships. I couldn't help but wonder how Krystal fit into this world and whether her connection with Tank was destined for complications and heartache.