"Any plans for the big day?" his girlfriend asked.
"I don't know," Ted answered, "the guys wouldn't say."
"Oh, that's reassuring."
"It won't be that bad."
"Jeff's still getting glitter out of his ass."
Ted tried not to but he had to snicker at the memory.
"Stop," Maddison said slapping his shoulder.
She was having trouble keeping a straight face too, though.
"I'm the last guy in the group to turn 21. We're probably just going to go around hitting bars and getting wasted. Maybe even chocolate wasted."
"The fact you quote those movies disturbs me."
"And thus, I persist."
Soon enough the day in question arrived. He awoke to the sound of a text hitting his phone. It read simply: Easy's 6pm. Oh those idiots had better be kidding. Of all the bars in the city they could have chosen to start at they had to go and choose the one run by the 69 Street Riders. These were the bikers you knew instinctively to avoid. Unless of course you were Teddy's friends.
All day throughout classes and work afterwards he worried about it. What were they up to? Finally, six on the dot, he parked in front of the old run down roadhouse. Well, here went ... everything. Inside the bar was just as run down and dirty as it was on the outside. Avoiding eye contact with everyone Ted scampered over to the bar.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.
"Whisky," he squeaked out.
Raising his eyebrow. he handed Ted a glass. As he sipped it he looked around the bar at the big mean looking men populating it. God, where were his friends? Thirty minutes later they still hadn't arrived. Ted finished yet another whisky leaving the glass on the counter. He paid his bill and headed for the door. Those idiots set him up. They were probably at Jeff's house laughing their asses off at him.
"Well shit."
He was almost at the door when he heard it. He had no idea why but he felt he needed to look. A group of men were gathered around the pool table. Lining up her shot was a shorter black woman in her thirties whose shoulder length black hair was tied back in a ponytail. Black motorcycle boots, skintight leather pants, and a black leather jacket covering a leather top that showed off her ample cleavage completed the look of a sexy biker chick not to be messed with. Unless it was a pool ball it seemed. She missed an easy shot and the men around the table groaned.
"Pay up," one of the men said.
Shaking her head, she handed the man a crumpled bill. She repeated this bet with two other men. Wait, he knew her. It was Tabitha Brinkley. They went to school together. To be honest he had a bit of a crush on her.
"Anyone else wanna try?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'll play."
"Pay in's a hundred, Ted."
"Deal, Tabby."
"It's Rivet now."
"Suits you."
Soon he was up to five hundred bucks.
"Double or nothing," his opponent demanded.
"You're on."
She racked them up. She took her shot. She cleaned his clock.
"Pay up," she laughed after the game was finished and Ted has thoroughly lost.
"I don't have the extra five hundred on me," he said.
"Is it in your account?"
"Yeah, should be."
"Then let's go get it."
She took me by the arm and led outside to her bike. She jumped on and started it up like it was second nature.