“See? Who says you need a filter anyways?”

She laughs louder this time, more carefree. “For once, I think you’re right.”

“What? Just once? I’m fucking always right.”

“Ha. Don’t be so sure of yourself,” she says.

“I always back myself. Someone’s got to.” Now I sound like a douchebag. No need to go pointing out that I’m pretty much on my own, here. I know V has my back, he’ll always have it, but he’s so far removed from my life right now I forget that he’s still a part of it. He’s not much support for me on the inside.

I carry the beers, and Suds carries a glass of red in each of her hands, the other one for April. “You know I heard you last night?” she whispers as we approach the others. I lean in close and catch the glint of mischief in her eyes.

Now she brings it up? Why not mention it at the bar when we had more privacy?

“You liked that, huh?”

“Nice to know after everything that someone got a result.” Her grin grows wide as my mouth drops open.

What?

“You mean you didn’t flick the bean?”

“It would’ve been like whipping a dead horse. There was no way I was gonna cross the finish line.”

My dick hardens painfully against the seam of my jeans as thoughts of Suds touching herself play out in my mind. It’s stiffening at warp speed.

“Anytime you need a hand in that department, just holler.”

“Or moan,” she says, through a giggle. She’s a funny fucker when she loosens up. It’s good to see her relax a little. Most of the time I see her, she looks deep in thought, whether that’s about her studies or other shit. I kinda like this side of her. Less stabby and intense.

Her elbow rubs against my upper arm as we approach our friends. For whatever reason, this simple physical contact sends a shiver up my spine and more blood to my groin.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “We need to finish this conversation later.” Because in these jeans, I’ll have no chance of hiding a giant fucking hard-on. I’ll end up getting booted out of the pub, and then I’ll have to take care of a monster chubby.

I’ve got a right mind to take her back to the bar where we can talk some more. She seems so much more relaxed here. Is it the wine? The environment? Is she not comfortable at my place?

April and Jones mention something about the wedding, and the girls go off on their own little tangent. I overhear the odd mention of a dress and the name Vicky comes up in conversation.

“We’ll have to get some suits sorted soon,” Jones says with a nod.

“Whenever you want, bro. What were you thinking about doing for the bucks?” I ask, wondering if April is gonna allow the strippers I was always going to organise.

“Thinking about hitting The Gentlemen’s Club in Kings Cross.”

“Surely we can come up with something better than that?”

“My dad wants us to go play golf first. Some sort of Jones family tradition.”

“Fuck that shit,” I curse with a shake of my head. “There is no way in hell I’m putting on goofy fat-arse pants and old-man shoes.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“You know this could possibly stretch the friendship,” I warn. I’m serious, too.

“How about a compromise? You can wear whatever you like, drive the buggy and make sure there’s enough cold beers on hand.”

“Maybe.”

“Loosen up, Rocco. We can do it first thing in the morning, keep Dad and his business associates happy, and then we can get down to real buck business.”

“I think we need to get out of Sydney. Do something completely different.”

“I’ll ask around and see what other ideas I can come up with.”

“And make no mistake, Jones. There will be strippers.”

“With you as best man, there was never any doubt.”

I scull down the last few mouthfuls of my beer, and Jones does the same.

“Who’s up for another?” Jones asks, wide eyed, pulling April and Suds from their in-depth conversation.

“None for me. I’m gonna head back to the hotel,” Suds says to Jones.

I check the clock on the wall behind the bar. It’s just gone past ten o’clock, and she’s pulling the pin now?

“You’re going?” I ask as casually as I can, but my voice comes across as if I’m some kind of whiney prick. “Surely you can stay for a few more? We can celebrate the fact that Jones managed to stay upright this round.”

“Very funny, dickhead,” Jones says.

“Nah, I’m gonna head off. I’m wiped. And we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow,” she says, with a smile for April.

“You goin’ too, April?”

“Not just yet. I’m keeping an eye on Daddy,” she says, as she tries to spy on Mac and the blonde woman talking at a small table in the corner.

“It’s called stalking him on his first date in years, babe. I’m sure he might like a little privacy,” Soph says, and draws her friend into a hug.

“Oh, shush,” April says, and kisses her on the cheek.

“Night, babe,” Soph whispers.

“Night,” April says, and extends her neck to try and check on her dad again.

“Night boys. Behave yourselves,” Suds says, as she takes a key on a large tag from April. From the bright orange colour of the rectangular key ring, it looks like we’re staying at the same hotel.

“Someone walking with you, Suds?” I ask.

“Nope.”

The place is a solid five-to-ten-minute walk from here. I can’t let her go by herself. Since when have I had a chivalrous bone in my body? Ah, fuck it.

“Want me to walk you?”

She leans in close. Her sweet perfume teases at my nostrils. Damn. Since when does Suds smell this good? Since when am I close enough to really get a good whiff?

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” she whispers. “Remember? Dangerously good aim, right?” She clenches her fists in front of her in a boxing stance.

I can’t help but laugh. “Righto. You punch any fucker that comes close.”

“Will do.”

A funny sinking feeling materialises in my chest as she weaves her way through the crowd and out into the night.

I wanted her to stay. We could’ve talked some more. It’d help me stop thinking about V, and the fact that tomorrow is his birthday. The first birthday he’ll spend without family. Instead, he’ll be in a jail cell, alone. I won’t even be home so he can contact me. Some fuckin’ brother I am.

As if I’m on autopilot, I return to the bar and order another beer. After each measured gulp, I glance around the pub. Jones has April. Stone has Eevie. Mac, the old bastard, even has someone. Billy Boy has a group of mates and a couple of young chicks hanging around.

That just leaves me and the bottle of Patron that’s winking at me from the other side of the bar.

“I owe you a tequila,” a deep voice says from beside me. Jesus, is someone reading my mind right now? That’s freaky shit.

I turn to face a tall guy with short brown hair. A chunky gold cross hangs proudly around his neck, resting at the open collar of his white shirt. The necklace is similar to the one that V used to wear. Before he got locked up, that is. Fuck. Could I think about my brother any more?

“And how do you figure that?” I ask him, racking my brain for his name. I’ve seen him on-track plenty of times, but I’ll be fucked if I know who he is. Is he with KTM? Did we get blind at Coolum at the end of last season? I was as loose as a hooker on New Year’s Eve. There’s hours of that trip I can’t account for.

“You shouted me at least a bottle after Jones took the championship. That was one hell of a night, brother.”

Brother.

He places a glass in my hand, and clinks his shot against mine. He just handed me a loaded gun.

With a chin lift, he’s pulled the trigger. On reflex I gulp down the drink. The liquid burns as it slides down my throat. My skin prickles all over as the familiar warmth grows inside of me.

I don’t think tonight is gonna end well.

****