Free Biker Babe in Black by Debra Kayn Page A

I am, and isn’t it lucky for you I arrived back in the states today and could attend the party.” She flashed Remy a kilowatt smile. “And here you are.”
    This woman, Gloria whoever, latched on to Remy’s arm and whispered something Margie couldn’t hear. She concentrated on straightening the silverware and looked anywhere besides the other people at their table. People tended to scrutinize the third party involved in the relationship to gauge their reaction. Like a bug under a microscope .
    Remy removed the woman’s arm that wound around his back, cupping his ass. Anger replaced Margie’s curiosity. Who the hell did she think she was, handling Remy that way in front of everyone? Hello? Didn’t she comprehend that she was Remy’s date?
    Remy reached down and clasped Margie’s hand. She stood, and Remy drew her to his side, his arm around her waist. Take that, Miss Swimsuit Model!
    “Gloria Steinbeck, I’d like you to meet Margarine Butter.”
    Dead silence broke out around the table. Margie contained her groan. She steeled herself against the unwanted attention, held her hand out, and cemented the fakest smile on her face.
    “Oh, God, you poor thing. Your parents must have been hippies that believed in alternative mind treatments to saddle you with that name.” Gloria ignored Margie’s hand and instead placed her hand on her own chest in horror. “I would have legally changed my name years ago.”
    Gloria moved right in on the jugular. Margie tossed her hair and gave an airy laugh. She wouldn’t lower herself to this…this bitch in front of Remy and his friends.
    “If you’ll excuse us, Gloria. It looks like dinner is about to be served.” Remy helped Margie sit down, pushed in her chair, and found his own seat. Left behind, Gloria resembled a fledgling that waited for food, her mouth wide open. An obvious snub.
    The guests at the table continued to stare at the drama going on. Margie breathed through her nose to calm her pulse without anyone noticing. She didn’t think a catfight with hair pulling, or a contest on insults about each other’s Hogs might work in a situation with polite society.
    Ten to one, the bitch didn’t even ride a motorcycle.
    The serving woman appeared and handed out their dinner plates. Margie lowered her lashes and peeked at Remy, who found her hand under the table in her lap and gave it a squeeze.
    “You okay?” he mouthed.
    Conversations once again picked up, and everyone’s attention was drawn to the meal in front of them. Margie gave Remy a small nod and a shaky smile. She knew better than to think this was the end of the drama tonight. Women like Gloria never gave up.
    A Mr. and Mrs. Chapman and another man whose name she’d forgotten sat at the table with Remy and Margie. The nameless man engaged in conversation with the Chapmans, leaving Remy and Margie to talk with each other. The meal ended, and the guests retreated back to the room where they’d gathered prior to dinner. Unsettled, Margie took over the role as silent observer.
    Everyone sought Remy’s attention, and she delighted in how magnificently he performed. He complimented, involved others in the limelight, and bonded with his employees. She found herself studying the way he worked and forgetting about those around her. Impressed with the way he conducted himself, Margie understood how he became successful in his life.
    Mr. Turner, who Remy engaged in conversation, welcomed his wife into their small group. A classic beauty, she gazed over at her husband with adoration and love.
    “Margarine, I’d like you to meet my wife, Abigail Turner.” Mr. Turner lifted his wife’s hand and kissed the back of her wrist.
    Mrs. Turner’s entire face lit up, and Margie welcomed the warmth from the woman. Abigail was the first genuine person she’d met tonight.
    “It’s so nice to meet you, Margarine. I love Remy as if he was my own son. Did he ever tell you about the time he dumped a box of laundry dye in our