Jack Brewer Kickin It Novels & Stories

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 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

“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.”

There’s a laptop in the middle, three beer bottles, and four half filled wine glasses. Killer’s shaking Kaleb’s milk bottle, partially bent over Dexter, looking at the screen. Brett is seated behind him, with Brandon next to him. Melissa is on the other side of the white granite counter, mixing what looks like mash. Diamond, Wyatt and Snake are making something. Killer turns his attention to us, walking over, to take Kaleb. He spares a quick glance my way, as he positions Kaleb on his arm, before putting the bottle to his mouth.

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.

Jack looked up from his laptop as Jake came barging into his study. "Jake" he said in a calm tone. Jake slapped his hands down on the table in front of him. "Well, that was epic, man!" "What are you talking about, Jake?" "You know exactly what I'm talking about, man. Coming to the club without anyone knowing before hand, then having a public session? That was DOPE!" Jack rolled his eyes. Jake was really hard to stop when he was on a roll.

Zen took it from me and slowly tore it open. “Greetings to the great Faulkner. Greetings to the Alpha of the Nexton Pack! It is with great honor and pride that I wish to say thank you for honoring the invitation to our pack. We understand that with your busy schedule, but regardless, you found time to be with us. As we head out to vote for the alpha king, I wish you success as I vote for my favorite candidate, Jake Ferrell.” I grabbed the vodka bottle and slammed it right into the wall. It fell to the floor. The crashing sound of it is still echoing around the house.

“Jackie told me it can be. What can I get for you?” “A bottled beer, Bud light please.” “Sure thing.” Justin went to grab it while Bobby turned around to watch the scene. It was a gorgeous night out actually and he was glad he came down after all. Justin sat the bottle down and Bobby turned around, laying some money next to it and Justin shook his head. “Jackie says if anyone comes in on their day off and has a drink; it’s on the house; even if you live upstairs.”

I asked in a low voice, curiosity mixing with confusion. Conor flashed a big smile, showing off his pearly whites—something I hadn't seen much of. He looked so large and at ease sitting on that barstool, and when our eyes met, I found his energy oddly entertaining. "So, there’s this beer called Stella Artois. And if you want to spice things up, you order a shot of Jack Daniels with it, which they call a Jack Backer. Whiskey, in my opinion, is just good for the soul." He drifted into thought, his gaze momentarily distant, as if he was pondering something beyond the conversation. "And what about the Surfer on Acid?" I asked again, my grin turning a bit crooked as I tried to keep up with him.