Jack Brewer Kickin It Novels & Stories

Or…hell, don’t they have rehearsal tomorrow morning? “You don’t like it?” Jack’s voice sounds in my ear, and I turn to look at him. He’s sitting on my other side, between me and Keri. “What?” I ask. He indicates the beer in front of me. “The beer.” “Oh,” I mumble. I’ve been nursing the one bottle for about an hour now. “I…no, it’s ok. I’m just not in the mood.” “How long was the drive here? You must be tired.”

I smiled, “and it’s great to meet you all!” I chugged back another drink. “Woah she can handle her liquor, eh boss?” Jason chimed in. I sighed and told them it is fantastic scotch. “No doubt, it’s Jameson’s brand” Ricky explained. “Simply the best out there.” “No need for flattery boys.” Jameson laughs. Liv moved to the bar stool on my right and we started chatting. “You need to try these rocket shots that Ken makes!” Liv said joyfully. “2 rocket shots coming up!” Ken cheered.

PARKER Jack walks in carrying four glasses—neat bourbon for Harrison, red wine for Gavin and me, and a flute of something bubbly for himself, because of course he thinks champagne makes him the fun one. He hands me my wine with a grin, his thumb brushing the side of my palm. “You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now. “Better than okay.” Gavin’s already seated on the sectional, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, one arm draped along the backrest like he’s waiting for someone to crawl into his lap and take what’s theirs.

Now, he was beginning to become curious about him, to know more about his life, his personality, him. "Who wants to get real wild tonight? Here's our fuel courtesy of our dear friend Jayler who just got a solution to his problems" Kenneth aired coming his way holding a bottle of pure Bacardi, three glasses and a bucket of ice in hand. "Yes man, that's what I'm talking about getting real wild because it's Friday night" Jayler yelled in much approval while snatching the bottle of Bacardi from Keneth's hand. All of a sudden, after hearing all of those he began to become aggressive and rather free. He's worry free now, it's time to party.

Jamie told me. Jamie stood up, dropped his pants and told me to suck his cock. "What're you fuckin' nuts?" I asked as I backed away from this big, badass bike gang leader. I instinctively took a fighting stance! Thanks, guys for the coke. My hips are feeling pretty spry, and "I'm no fag. I ain't sucking nobody's dick! I appreciate the party boys, but I think it is time for me to get going". As I backed away, my rear foot touched another. I shot a back kick straight up under his chin.

I say, laughing. Jackson just shifts his eyes to me like I’m crazy if I think he knows what that means, which makes me laugh more. Jesse, having caught the conversation, laughs as well in a good-hearted way. “What do you like, Jacks?” he asks, flipping open the little travel bar that dad keeps quite well stocked back here. “I don’t know,” Jackson murmurs, peering over my head with surprise and a little delight at the secret compartment. “Something…brown.” “Whiskey it is,” Jesse says, pouring him a draft and handing it down the line.

"I told you my feelings about Jack, and that's not going to change no matter what you say or anyone else so you may as well get used to it." "Why don't you see it? Jack's savage and killed so many people ruthlessly. Let's assume for one goddamn minute that there's a miracle and he somehow wakes up from the coma and let's say they do catch this killer, what then? You're going to start dating killers now?" "He's not a psychopath and he's not a killer! Stop saying that. Jack was being framed and that's the only reason he's slipped into this coma in the first place."

“The key to this drink is the hefeweizen beer. Grab me a bottle, and we’ll get to work,” he instructed. When he turned his attention to the jackass demanding the obscure drink, Chris dialed up the charm. “Not everyone has a palate as high-class as you, sir. I’d take The Barbecue over a regular whiskey drink any day!” “You got that right,” the man replied, puffing out his chest like a peacock. Chris mixed a dab of Jack Daniel’s with Maker’s Mark, adding an extra jigger to hopefully put the man on his head. Making swift work with his

Walker asked him and proudly nudges Kenji with his shoulder with a proud smile and face. "Man, if there's Lebron James, I'd call you Jebrom Lames." Rig shook his head, obviously trying to make a joke. "Are we supposed to laugh?" Joshua asked him, the only one who hasn't touched any bottle of beer and has only been sitting there with his legs crossed manly and crossed arms tightly. "Hey, we're not done with you yet." Kenji pointed a finger at him before taking a swig on his beer. "Sorry but that's just not going to work on me." He lifted both of his hands like he's surrendering before putting it back crossed above his chest.

“Is there gonna be a war?” I sighed and shook my head, grabbing my temple. “Yah; and unfortunately, nowhere is safe right now.. at least outside of Michigan and here…” saying that I had an idea, one that would be beneficial to most of the bikers and me at the same time. “Yah know what… you lot need to come with me back to my pack. Let me introduce you to everyone and get you all a nice beer.” “Sounds like a plan! Where’s Gage? We’ll round them all up and get going.”