Old School (A Bad Boy Biker Romance) (6 page)

I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing so I grabbed my leather jacket and threw it on before getting on one of the nicer bikes we had in the garage at the moment.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing? We have to give that back tomorrow! And we're not closing up 'til six!” said Brett. I gave him the finger.

“I'll bring it back. I'm taking the afternoon off!”

I sped away before he could argue with me, trying my best to clear my thoughts. I'd see Lola again and let her buy me a few drinks, but that was it. I wasn't looking to become some bitch ass husband anytime soon.

She would just have to take me as I was, just like everyone else.

Lola

The Ruby Lounge tonight at 9pm.

Vince's reply was shorter and more direct than I had expected. I guess I had been hoping for some more banter from him. He had so enjoyed annoying me in the past that I'd secretly learned to enjoy it myself (though I would never admit that to his face). Now that he was being so clinical with me, I missed his teasing. I texted him back, hoping for a more playful response.

Got it. Well, the tonight and 9pm parts. If you could tell me where The Ruby Lounge is that would be great. We're not all motorcycle millionaire, ya know?

The text was something of a mistruth. I knew exactly where The Ruby Lounge was, though I had never set foot inside. It was a very high end bar that turned into a club on Saturday nights. I had always wanted to go there but never had the balls to go by myself or anyone nice enough to take me. Vince didn't need to know that though.

I tried to make my text sound witty and off the cuff but I actually agonized over the wording for at least an hour before forcing myself to send it. I hoped the tone of my message would provoke him to be a little less sterile.

My hopes were dashed when in response Vince only sent me a screen shot of an online map. No words or anything, just the picture. Damn it, maybe my text had come across meaner than I had intended it. I could be such a bitch sometimes, especially to hot guys. No, Vince wasn't hot. Stupid girls like that bitch Sophie might fall for that whole bad boy thing but I was a journalist. An intellectual. He did absolutely nothing for me. At least, that was what I told myself. I also assured myself that I wasn't a bitch and that Vince was probably just bad with technology. Hey, in this day and age I would rather a guy who hated texting than I guy whose phone seemed to be glued to his hand.

It was either that or Vince was purposely playing it cool with me. That thought pissed me off no end. How dare he play games with me like I was still a silly schoolgirl? I was too smart to fall for that shit. I could play games right back.

I convinced myself that I would now have an attitude as casual as Vince's attitude to me. If that was what he wanted then he could have it. Hell, I could show up to The Ruby Lounge in sweatpants and a ponytail to show how little he mattered to me.

I threw on my gray sweats and pulled my hair into a ponytail, but as the time got closer and closer to 9pm I changed my mind and grabbed my favorite dress. By the time I left I had styled my hair into mermaid waves that cascaded down my front and taken a leaf from Jennifer's book and tried out the smokey eye nude lip combo for myself. I looked good.

I got into my car, fresh from the shop and started it up. Tonight would be a good night. It wasn't a date. It was a business meeting. Vince just didn't know that yet.

I would get what I needed and then get the fuck out of there.

Vince

I rode my bike around all evening, trying my best not to think about Lola. Brett's words had really gotten to me but I knew that I still had to see her. Would she be just like I remembered? Would her body be as fun to play with the second time? According to Brett I would be lucky if I even got that far. I chose The Ruby Lounge because it had a nice atmosphere and the bartenders were almost always hot girls. Maybe she would think I chose it because I wanted to impress her, but that was not the case. She could think whatever she wanted.

Well fuck that, I said to myself. I was going to make it clear from the start that I didn't see this as a date. There was no way that Lola could get things twisted that way.

I rolled up to the bar about twenty minutes after I told her we would meet. I hadn't intended to be late, it just happened to work out that way. Still, it sure didn't hurt.

I walked in and looked around. The place was pretty upmarket with beautiful interiors, dominated by different shades of red and gold. The lighting was soft and ambient, the kind that everyone looks good in. It was a weeknight so it wasn't so busy. The few people I could see were different couples or groups of friends, all dressed in designer clothes enjoying cocktails on the red leather sofas or at the bar. My eyes roved around until I spotted Lola, sitting in a corner booth.

"Hey," I said, sitting across from her. She looked up at me and I was taken aback by her beauty once again. I felt bad, she had obviously gone to a big effort with her make up and stuff. I was wearing the same casual jeans and leather jacket combo that I would wear to the grocery store. Even so, she gave me a little smile.

"So you found your way eventually. What will you have?" she asked, before gulping back the remains of her cocktail.

"They have this fancy ass French beer here. I'll have one of those," I said. Lola nodded and I watched her get up and walk to the bar. A few heads turned as she did, but she seemed to be completely oblivious. The dress she was wearing hugged her ass so perfectly that I didn't blame anyone for looking. I could hardly keep my eyes off it myself.

I saw her get the attention of the lone male bartender right away and she ordered her drinks. He returned with them pretty quickly but the two of them chatted for a while and she laughed uproariously at some joke he must have told. He looked like a twerp to me.

Eventually Lola brought over my beer and another strawberry daiquiri for herself.

"This should make up for running you over," she said, placing the drinks down and returning to her seat, "That beer cost more than my dinner last night. So, we even then?"

I took a swig straight from the bottle and suddenly felt a bit more like myself. I shot her a wry smile and shrugged.

"I don't know. I still think you might have given me some pretty bad head trauma."

"Bullshit, you had that trauma before I hit you!" she said, giggling. I laughed too. I don't know why but most girls I met didn't try to be funny. They were too concerned with being pretty or sexy. Funny would just mess up that image. There was something about a girl who could make me laugh and wasn't afraid to make fun of me that was really hot. I had forgotten just how funny Lola could be.

"So, what did the jack off at the bar say to you?" I asked once I'd stopped laughing. It came out of my mouth before I could even think it true. It wasn't like me to ask questions like that. Why would I give a shit what some scrawny fucker said to Lola when I wasn't around? I wouldn't even care if she sucked him off in the bathroom during his break. It was none of my god damn business.

She raised one eyebrow at me. I hated sounding so jealous. I wasn't jealous anyway, just curious. If she interpreted my motivation wrong then that was her own fault, not mine.

"Are you serious? What are you, my boyfriend?" she asked. Fuck, I hated that word. She was only using it playfully but it still pissed me off. It must have showed on my face because Lola said, "Hey hey, just kidding. And he's not a jack off, he's a nice guy. I was talking to him before you got here." "So someone asks you for drinks and you spend the night trying to get off with someone else? That's harsh, Lola," I said, trying to make a joke of it but now she wasn't laughing. Maybe I wasn't as funny as I thought I was.

"I am not going after him, you asshole. You were late so I got myself a drink and talked to the bar tender, all right? We went to college together and I hadn't seen him in a while. God, does your girlfriend put up with this shit from you all the time?" she snapped, "Because it's annoying and I could really do without it."

Lola then took a huge gulp from her cocktail.

Girlfriend? I hated that word too. That was why I had spent most of my life trying to avoid hearing it. What was wrong with this woman that she thought I had a girlfriend?

"Girlfriend? I'm single."

Lola rolled her eyes at me and took another drink.

"Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm single," I said, lowering my voice, "Do you really think I would have fucked you if I had a girlfriend? That would have been a dick move and I don't play like that. I'm not a total asshole."

"Seems to me like you play whatever way you want. Most guys do. Not only was it shitty of you to fuck me when you already have a girlfriend, but it's worse that you're lying about it. I met her, Vince. She was at the mall the other day. I talked to her myself and she told me that she was dating you," she said. Every word added more confusion than the last.

"Lola, I don't have a girlfriend. I have never had a girlfriend."

She rolled her eyes again, obviously not believing me. Why should I care if she believed me anyway? I didn't need her to think I was single to get her into bed. That was the only reason that I was here. To get her into bed. I reminded myself of that. Once the deed was done I wouldn't have to put up with her bullshit anymore. The sooner we did it the better, but unfortunately she didn't seem like a fucking in the bathrooms kind of chick.

I shrugged it off and had another drink of my beer. Lola hadn't stormed off on me so I figured things were going well. The jack off bartender came over to see if we were OK.

"Can I get you guys anything, more drinks? Some peanuts maybe?" he said, though I could see the fact that I was there wasn't even registering. He was gazing at Lola all starry-eyed as he spoke and she was smiling right back at him, "Lola, do you need anything?"

She giggled and downed the last of her strawberry daiquiri.

"I could use another one of these," she said, smiling at him, "But you have to be the one to make it, Tom! I don't trust the other bartenders. You have a special touch -your stuff tastes so much better than anything else I've ever had!"

She shot me a contemptuous look.

"And he'll have another one of those gross German beers," she said, glaring at me. "They're French, Lola," I said.

"You said they were German, don't be a dumb ass. Tom, tell him that he's being a dumb ass!" Tom shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot and looked at me. I was twice the guy's size and could probably bench press him if I wanted to. He wasn't going to call me a dumb ass, no matter how thirsty he was for Lola's pussy.

"Well, he's actually right. It's a special one that comes from Lille in Northern France. There's a very strong Belgian influence to it, which I guess you could mistake for German, cos they speak German there sometimes. So I see where you're coming from Lola," he said. I laughed at his spinelessness and Lola scowled. Tom didn't hang around much longer and dashed away to get our drinks.

"What a weenie," I said. Lola's scowl intensified for a minute and I thought that I was really in trouble, but then her lips began to tremble. Her whole body followed and soon she had burst into peels of laughter. She had a good laugh.

"Oh Vince," she chuckled, "You're such a dumb ass." She said it affectionately. I drank the rest of my beer.

Lola

So, I was not the biggest girl in the world. I was shorter than most thirteen-year-olds and I could still buy shoes in the kids section if I wanted to. Yes, I had nice big boobs and a fantastic butt but I had a tiny frame. Girls with tiny frames should not have five strawberry daiquiris in two hours. At least, that was what I learned on my date with Vince. It wasn't a date though. It was just very similar to a date. I couldn't quite get it straight in my head.

Vince chugged back a lot of those fancy Belgian beers pretty fast too, but he was bigger and could take more. By the time we left the bar I was walking funny and slurring my words a little bit, but Vince didn't seem to notice. I was pretty good at pretending that I was less drunk than I was. It was one of my few talents in life.

The cold air hit me like a punch in the stomach and I suddenly could feel the alcohol in my system even more than I could when we were inside the bar. Still, I kept my composure and Vince was none the wiser.

"You know it's funny," I said, as clearly as I could, "I really thought that you would put the moves on me tonight, Vincent."

Vince laughed at me.