“In 200 feet your destination will be on your left.” The female voice of the Mustang’s navigation system sounded almost smug. Looking to her left, Andi saw only a rundown bar setting back from the road, surround by desert scrub. Two ancient looking gas pumps stood off to one side. The gravel parking lot in front of the building held almost a dozen gleaming bikes. Nice, she thought, but not safe, weekend rider kind bikes. No, from the look of these bikes, their riders weren’t the nine to five type guys. Andi narrowed her eyes as she looked down at the GPS display.
“Listen you piece of crap, I asked for a gas station. Not some biker bar in the middle of nowhere.” She’d had a hate-love thing going with the car’s GPS the whole time she’d been on the road home. The trip from Las Vegas to Portland had gone smoothly, she taken her time, stopping for the night once. The trip home had been going just as smoothly until she was about 50 miles from Vegas. Than US 95 just became a parking lot. High winds in the area had managed to overturn at least three tractor trailer rigs, blocking all the lanes of the highway. South bound had been detoured to Kyle Canyon Road, a two lane blacktop road that looped up, than down the flank of Mt Charleston. It connected back to Highway 95 on the out skirts of Las Vegas.
While it was very scenic route, taking it hadn’t been in Andi’s plans. Her 2015 silver Mustang GT nearly running on fumes, she’d asked the GPS to locate a gas station close by. What the damn thing had given her was this run down biker bar off of the main road. Her car idled on the shoulder of the road across from it.
“Your destination is on your left.”
Gripping the steering wheel with two hands, Andi dropped her head to the center of it. “Alright, alright.” She spoke to the GPS. With a sigh, she raised her head and checked her mirrors, before turning her car to cross the road and pull up to one of the gas pumps. Snagging her wallet from her oversized bag on the passenger seat, she pulled out her credit card. With luck, she told herself, I won’t even have to go in there. Stepping out of the car, she looked around to be sure she was alone. Not a soul was in sight. There was a heavy bass thumping from the bar next to the pumps. Looking back at the old gas pump, Andi stared at it for two seconds before she realized just how old it was. It had no scanner for a credit card. A small faded label said to please pay inside.
“Nononono!” Andi was ready to bang her head on the damn thing. Heaving another sigh, she gave in to what she knew she had to do. Go into that bar and pay for her gas. Turning back to her car, she grabbed her wallet, closed the car door and locked the Mustang.
“You can do this Andi.” She gave herself a pep talk as she started to the front of the bar. The thump of the bass got louder as she approached the door of the bar. Andi paused before going inside, looking again at the bikes parked in front of the building. Not too many of them, she thought, There could only be that many bikers inside. She did a quick count of the bikes. Only eight of them, not the dozen she had thought. Taking a deep breath and raising her chin, Andi pulled on the door, ready to brave the dark, loud interior. A wall of music seemed to slam into her as she walked into a large, dark room. Andi grimaced at the loudness as she looked around. Her eyes widened at the sight of the eight men scattered around the bar. Two were playing a game of pool in the back of the bar. Andi got a good look at both of the men from the light over the pool table. They both had to be well over 6 feet tall. One man was blonde, his hair pulled back from his face, tied off at the back of his head. The other man’s hair looked midnight black, shorter on the sides, but longish on top. Their faces were handsome in a rugged, almost hard way.
“Holy crap!” she breathed softly. Both were wearing t-shirts that looked like they had been painted over broad sculpted chests and chiseled abs. Tight, low slung jeans hugging trim waists, encasing well defined legs before disappearing into black boots. As Andi watched, the black haired guy bent over to take his shot. Andi‘s gulped, the guy’s ass was perfection in his tight jeans. Tearing her eyes away that ass was hard, but she did. She saw the rest of the men were seating at a large table, several pitchers of beer in the center of the table. From what she could see, they too were well built, just like the men at the pool table.