Deleted Scene - Romeo: Odin's Fury Motorcycle Club

I’ve talked a lot about the motorcycle club romance series I’m writing. So, I thought I’d give you a sneak peek at what that’s going to look like. I am waiting to hear from literary agents and two publishers right now, so what I’m sharing with you is bonus content. This is a deleted scene from book one: Romeo: Odin’s Fury Motorcycle Club.

(Please note it is minimally edited and remember this is a deleted scene)

1

Jacob “Romeo” Karolsson

Her name was Sparrow. And she sang Metallica, sitting on a picnic table while unwrapping a lollipop. He didn’t know it then, but she stole his heart at that moment.

He’d spotted her when he walked away from the partying bikers. As he got closer, the sun revealed multi-tones in the length of her brown hair. She’d weaved it into a loose braid. Unruly wisps escaped the hold of her hair-tie, to dance in the breeze while framing her freckled face. Pausing her rendition of “Nothing Else Matters,” she locked her gaze on him as he approached what he assumed to be her personal rehearsal space.

Something in her green hues drew him in, called him toward her – invited him onto her little stage. Who was he to deny her? Besides, after the day he’d had, he could use some company his own age.

With his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, Jacob silenced his grumbling, rehashing the argument he’d just had with his mother. Out of a small sense of embarrassment, he hunched his shoulders and lowered his gaze to the ground.

There was nothing more humiliating than your mother ripping you a new asshole for all the motorcycle club to see. They’d be his brothers one day, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever live down how she’d just hollered at him. She’d caught him smoking, or trying to smoke, with the prospects. Then she’d banished him away from the vendor tents like a fucking child.

Self-consciously, he reached up to check his hair. The sides of his head were shaved close, and he spiked the dark brown patch in the middle, giving him a short mohawk. All that he needed was a nonchalant attitude to match his badass look, and he’d be golden.

“Hey,” he grunted as he plunked the lanky body, he’d yet to grow into, down on the bench across from her.

“Hey,” she echoed, twisting to face him, before sucking the lollipop in her mouth.

It could have been his hormones or the fact they had raised him in an outlaw motorcycle club. At fifteen, his mind lived in the gutter. So, he couldn’t help but watch as the red ball of sugar disappeared between her lips, conjuring far too many illicit images to mind.

In the distance, people hooted and hollered as a Harley spun his tire in a burnout. It caused a plume of smoke and the scent of burned rubber to waft their way. The pungent odor drowned out the potent smell of booze and weed from those attending the Wetzelland Motorcycle Rally. The annual festival boasted a bike rodeo, tattoo contests, live music, and many other activities to celebrate a man and his machine.

A band played soft rock on a stage a few yards away as the sky turned pink with the setting sun. The July air cooled to comfortable warmth while the two sat in silence together.

“This your first year?” He asked still brooding.

She nodded. “You?”

He shook his head. “Third.”

Glaring at the rowdy crowd of adults, he tightened his jaw. Practically turning green with envy, he wanted to be with them. He wanted to party too. His mother needed to accept that he was old enough now.

Dash, the prospect who’d given him the cigarette, had promised him a beer but his mom ruined it. He wouldn’t be able to show his face at the camp that night after the blow-up. Well, maybe he could. After they’d drank and smoked themselves stupid.

“Want one?” She asked breaking into his thoughts.

Shifting his body back to face her, he saw her extended arm over the table. In her hand was another red lollipop. The kind with the gum in the center.

Dash had said the exact same thing when he shook his pack of smokes at him. Jacob had eagerly accepted them, wanting to appear cool in the biker’s eyes. Sure, he was only a prospect and not a full patched member of Odin’s Fury yet, but he was a hell of a lot close than Jacob. That made him practically a god in the teenager’s eyes. Jacob had been anything but when his mom came tearing around the corner shrieking like a hyena and slapping him. All the while, the prospect laughed hysterically. He’d never been so humiliated in his life.

“Sure,” he said, finally accepting the candy on a stick. Peeling the wrapper off, he stuck it in his mouth. It clattered against his teeth with the swift movement.

“My name’s Sparrow,” she said, grinning.

Furrowing his brow, he studied her. “Like the bird?”

The lollipop she’d been sucking on came out of her mouth with a pop, and she nodded proudly. It had to be a nickname. Everyone had nicknames who came to these things except him. He still waited for the club to give him one. When it came from the club, it was a road name. They earned road names. They meant the club respected you.

When he joined the club, earned his patch, he’d have a cool road name like Steel or Thunder. It’d be something tough.

“Jacob,” he said. She smiled before she resumed her song, using her candy as a microphone.

Wearing a goofy grin, he listened to the off-key tune. With amusement, it occurred to him that when he heard Metallica in the future, he’d remember this girl, her freckles, and lollipops. There was just something about the way she sang – with her eyes closed, her chin up – as though the words came from deep down in her soul. She felt the lyrics and wanted who she sang them to, to feel them too. They weren’t her words, but she poured meaning into them, her meaning, and her heart into them. The image struck him.

As though to make sure he’d never forget, she tried to hit a high note, and he flinched.

When she stopped, she sighed. Resting her elbows on the table, her green eyes ran over him as the ball of candy slid past her lips again. The white stick protruded like the cigarette that’d been robbed from him. “It’s just you and me, kid.” She did an old gangster impression. “So, what are we gonna do?”

She had a point. Looking around, kids their age were a rarity at these things. Jacob hadn’t a clue why their parents thought to bring them. Though, he was glad someone else’s parents were as irresponsible as his own this year. She may be younger than him, but at least she was cool.

Shrugging, he reached into his pocket. “Know how to play poker?”