Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  Hopefully he wouldn’t even think of looking here, even if I did come and impose on my sister. Ostracised by my overly strict family when she’d gotten pregnant and had an abortion at the age of eighteen, I’d kept in contact with her in secret. As far as I know, I’m the only one who knows where she ended up. Even if Ron did find out her address, there’s no reason for him to think that this is where I would run to.

  Thinking about my plight reminds me how overwhelmed I was by her easy acceptance of my situation, and the help both her and her husband have extended to me. Not only putting a roof over my head but also refusing much more than a pittance toward the food they willingly share. It is well past time I begin to repay them and, hopefully, manage to bring in enough money so I can put some aside. But a strip club? I bark an incredulous laugh.

  She’s looking at me strangely. “I think it’s worth a try.”

  I just give a disbelieving look. “Me, a stripper? Working for bikers? You have got to be kidding me. Just look at me, Celine. I’m not the type.” I know what I am. Christ, I find it hard enough to get clothes to fit. Which wouldn’t be a problem if I’m taking them off. I give myself a mental slap around the head. I’m not seriously considering it, am I?

  “I’m black,” I add. And coming to Tucson, I’m finding it strange how few of us there are.

  She tilts her head to one side. “You’re different is all. And from what you’ve said…”

  “I said too much, obviously.” My eyes narrow at her.

  Her sudden change of subject catches me off guard. “Want another?” She points to my empty glass.

  Thank goodness! She appears to be done with her preposterous suggestion.

  When I nod, she takes the empties and goes over to the bar. I watch as she meanders around the tables instead of taking the direct route, and ends up, oh shit, beside the bikers. Showing such rough types can also be gentlemen, they move aside to let her through, but I can see from here, they’re undressing her with their eyes as they do so. Oh, Celine’s got the figure, looks, and the height. She’s the total opposite of me. As usual, I can’t hide my envy at the way the dice fell.

  What they see must be enough to tempt them, but she dismisses the comment they make with a confident laugh, then turns and places her order. As she’s waiting for the bartender to bring the drinks, she swings back around and starts having what becomes an animated discussion with the men clad in leather. Anxiously biting my lip, I half look away but continue watching them out of the side of my eye. What is she up to? Luckily, there’s not one glance coming my way to suggest the topic of the discussion seems to concern me. The biker taps something into his phone, and I’m hoping it’s not her number. She’s happily married, or that’s what I thought.

  After a few moments, she returns, and a fresh drink is placed in front of me. There’s a gleam in her eye that I’m not sure I like.

  “Thanks, Celine.” I regard it for a moment, feeling guilty. “You know you didn’t have to bring me out tonight. I’m so sorry I can’t pay my way.”

  “Oh shush, girl. It’s good to get away from the house and have a girls’ night out. Craig’s all well and good, but I can go out with him anytime. And I can’t eye fuck the men while he’s around.”

  I smile, thinking she doesn’t have to. She landed herself a good one with him. So, what was she up to? I make a small gesture that no one else would notice. “What was that all about?”

  “What?” she replies innocently, but something in her eyes flares.

  “You, talking to the bikers.”

  She laughs, shrugging it off, and points to the drinks on the table. “You’ll soon be able to return the favour once you’re earning again.”

  She’s changing the subject by reminding me of my sorry predicament. I lift my chin and lower it while thinking it will take a long time before I find anyone willing to take me on. Though, surprisingly, in Tucson, it’s not the colour of my skin that’s much of a drawback. There are relatively few blacks in the city, and therefore we’re not viewed as any kind of threat. No, it’s the fact I’ve never worked a day in my life that’s against me. A half completed law degree hasn’t proved to be of any use.

  Celine’s looking at her glass and then peers at me over the top. “Hey, get that look off your face. Things are looking up, girl. I’ve got you an interview. Well, maybe audition’s the better word for it.”

  Hang on. She said nothing about this earlier, and that flick of her eyes toward the men at the bar gives her away. Oh shit, don’t tell this mama it’s something to do with the bikers. I put my hand to my mouth, suddenly feeling very afraid. “Celine, what have you done?” I hiss. My eyes return to the bar just in time to see the two men disappearing out the back. “What do you mean, an audition?”

  “At Satan’s Angels.”

  I growl low in my throat. “Which is?” But deep down I already know the answer. The name gives it away.

  “The strip club owned by the Satan’s Devils Motorcycle Club.” Her reply is nonchalant, as if she was speaking about nothing more edifying than the weather forecast.

  Now my head drops into my hands. What the hell has she gone and done?

  “It’s tomorrow morning,” she continues, as if she’s not given me anything out of the ordinary to consider. “At eleven o’clock.”

  For a moment, I peer through my fingers, staring at her. What the hell is she thinking? There is no way on earth that I’ll be making that audition. For one thing—the only thing that matters—I don’t have what it takes. All at once, anger takes over as I look at my sister who, though she has the same skin colour, but unlike me, has been blessed with a tall, slender physique, taking after our father. “Celine, just be sensible. Look at me,” I hiss. “I’m short, overweight, and my boobs are totally out of proportion. Hardly stripper material.”

  As quickly as mine had, her ire rises to match. “You’re beautiful, Alex, and don’t you ever forget it. Strippers come in all shapes and sizes, they have to. Men are attracted to many different types.”

  “Not mine.” My husband had criticised my body for years, not that there was much I could do about it. All the dieting and exercising in the world hadn’t altered the basic shape God had gifted me with. My legs are too short, my breasts top heavy, and as for my ass... I, as Ron had so often said, am a joke.

  She waves her hand in dismissal. “It’s what you do with it that matters the most. And boy, have you got some moves.”

  Maybe I have. Who am I to judge? But I’d spent months working on my moves as she’d called it, not that Ron had appreciated it at all. He’d seen the same video I’d sent to Celine, and he’d laughed his head off before telling me I made him feel sick and walked out, presumably to find a whore to stick his dick into.

  I’d never told him anything about my strange hobby again. I’d continued my lessons, performing for nothing other than my own enjoyment, but the legacy of the reaction of the man I’d left was what made me so nervous showing myself off to strangers. If he was repulsed, wouldn’t they be too?

  “Look, Alex, I think you ought to give this a try—”

  “Celine. You know I love you, and I truly appreciate you taking me in. I know you need me to start paying my way, but there must be something else I can do…”

  “You haven’t found anything so far. And,” she holds up her hands to stop me trying to talk over her again, “you need to get some confidence back. I think this is a great way. Go to the audition, show them what you’ve got, shake that little booty of yours, and if you get the job, great, you don’t have to take it. If they offer it to you, at least you’ll start believing that bastard Ron was just trying to wear you down.”

  But what he’d said was the truth. I could use a mirror as well as the next woman. It will just be one more situation where I’d make a man laugh. “But it’s a strip club,” I snarl. Shit, how did I end up with this as my only option? “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? Plenty of women do. It’s not as though you’re g
oing to be a hooker. Damn, girl, just give it a try. For me?”

  “I am not getting naked in front of strangers.” My hand wanders down and smoothes across the curves of my stomach.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Wear a bodysuit or something. I’m sure you can work something out.” The airily way she dismisses all my protests makes me realise with a sinking feeling of dread, she’s actually serious about this.

  My eyes narrow. “They didn’t even look at me. They weren’t at all interested.” Yeah, they’d looked around at my coughing fit, but looked away just as quickly.

  She shrugs, pushing her artificially relaxed and straightened hair over her shoulders. “I may have led them to believe it was going to be me.”

  “Well, you can fucking go instead.” There. If she’s so keen for one of us to take her clothes off in public, let it be her.

  “Alex,” she starts, sounding like she’s addressing a slow learner. “I might have been blessed with a typical figure and reasonable looks, but I can’t do with it what you can. You’ve got the rhythm and movement. I’m just a stick on two legs.”

  That brings a small smile to my lips. Unfortunately, she’s right. But is my ability to move, enough for people to overlook my other major shortcomings?

  She leans forward and covers my hands with her own. “Babe, sleep on it, okay? If you don’t turn up, they won’t be too bothered. They only know to expect an Alex in the morning. If you really don’t want to do this, then don’t. But if you want to give it a try, then I’m behind you all the way.”

  Again, my teeth worry my bottom lip. If I wasn’t so desperate for money, I wouldn’t even consider it. I start to wonder what the wages are like. The thought of being able to put dollars in my wallet suddenly sounding attractive. But her confidence I can pull it off is surely misplaced. I glance at my sister, not for the first time in my life, wishing I’d won the looks lottery instead. “You really think I can do this?”

  “Why not?”

  I can think of a hundred reasons why, including, “I’m not a whore.”

  “Of course not!” She looks shocked. “Look, I used to know one of the girls who stripped there—lovely girl, actually. She told me nothing like that was expected. The bikers are protective of the girls and make sure there’s no touching. Sure, some give lap dances, but none are pushed into it if they don’t want to. And woe betide a man who puts his hands on a girl unasked. She was like you, desperate for a well-paying job, but because of the positive environment, she actually enjoyed it. She ended up marrying one of the patrons.”

  Our glasses are once again empty. Celine gathers her jacket and picks up her purse. As I copy her actions, her words go around in my head. Don’t be stupid. It’s ridiculous. In my mind, I can hear Ron laughing his head off.

  I pull myself up straight. What the fuck do I care what my soon-to-be ex-husband would think? Part of the reason I left was to change myself into someone different from the housewife he’d modelled me into, the Stepford wife clone he wanted to keep his house.

  I got away. I’m free. I can do anything.

  Chapter Three

  Dart…

  Striding into Satan’s Angels, I notice, not for the first time, how sleazy the joint looks by day, when all the overhead lights are on, casting their glaring white lights on the shabby velvet sofas and red satin chairs covered with stains, the origin of which I don’t want to think of. Table surfaces are pitted and worn with numerous rings left from glasses. The red carpet looks threadbare in parts, and the gold decorations of the curtains framing the stage look gaudy and tarnished. But by night, with the lights down low, the place looks very different. Let’s face it, the men who come here haven’t eyes for their surroundings. No, they just want to see what’s happening on the stage. And as long as we provide the talent, they keep coming back.

  Angels happens to be my domain, the one I manage on behalf of my club. Recently, we’ve lost a couple of strippers, leaving us short. Candy, I know, didn’t want to go, but her other half got a job up Phoenix way and she moved to be with him. Don’t blame the girl at all, but she was a great loss. A favourite with the customers. We left on good terms, her saying how much she enjoyed working here, and that’s down to Satan’s Devils taking care of our women, whether they are old ladies, club whores, or our employees. Strip clubs that turn a blind eye to some of their more handsy customers lose their best dancers fast. While the girls here know we’re always watching out for them, they’re happy, and reward us by giving their all on the stage. Yeah, it pays that they know we’ve got their backs.

  Throwing a nod toward Road, one of our prospects, who’s come in early to restock the bar, I glance around at the cleaners doing the best that they can to clear up the mess left from last night. Vacuums are humming, cloths scrubbing at the woodwork, trying to turn this place into something it’s not. But it will be good enough and will bring in the cash. Money that will make Dollar, our treasurer, happy. Besides, the draw of this place isn’t what it looks like. Fuck, even if it was bright and shiny, no one would notice. Our success depends on the girls who strip. The right ones will bring in the dollars, good tips for them, and more customers through the doors for us.

  I’m here bright and early as a result of a short conversation in the Wheel Inn last night when I’d been approached by a woman. At first taken aback, Beef and I had discussed her proposal back at the club. Tucson is made up of mainly whites, with Hispanics coming in a close second. African Americans make up only around two percent of the half-a-million total population. Satan’s Devils is, of course, like most one-percenter clubs, historically a whites-only club, and to date, Satan’s Angels have had only white dancers. A black girl could add a bit of spice, if she can use that body of hers, of course. From what I can recall, she was slender and shapely. Alex was her name, and that’s who I’ve come to give a try-out today.

  We might have a strict club rule of being hands off—no employee of ours will be bothered by a brother—but we’re only men after all. When there’s an opportunity to watch a new girl dance and strip, I’m not short of volunteers offering to help with the interview and audition. Today, it’s Blade who’s won the honour, and it’s him, our enforcer, who’s currently walking toward me. Well, with all the shit jobs he has to do for the club, he deserves a reward.

  “Dart! Beef tells me it’s dark meat on the menu today. Bit of a change from the ordinary. Blade slaps me on the back as he approaches.

  “Thought it was worth seeing what she’s got.”

  “She stacked?” He holds the palm of his hands over his chest as though his words alone aren’t enough.

  I take out my phone and check the time. “You can see for yourself in five minutes.”

  “Unless she chickens out.”

  Yeah. We get that a lot. It’s one thing to think you can be a stripper, quite another to actually take off your clothes in front of strangers if you haven’t done it before. I realise I’d been so caught off guard being approached as I had, that I’d omitted to query about experience. Shit, I hope this isn’t going to be a waste of my time and Blade’s.

  A bell rings. Road leaves the bar and goes to answer it. Together, Blade and I turn around in expectation. We don’t have to wait long before a woman comes into sight.

  Well, fuck me! How I manage not to burst out laughing, I’m really not sure. Blade coughs and covers his mouth with his hand. I try and peer around the prospect to see the other girl who’s surely coming in behind, but the only one entering is the one that’s causing me to almost lose my shit.

  Oh fuck!

  “Is that her?” Blade asks incredulously, his eyes opening wide. At my shrug, he suggests quietly in my ear, “Let her down lightly. She looks like a lamb going to the fuckin’ slaughter.”

  That she does. Her mocha-coloured skin doesn’t completely hide the darkening purplish flush on her cheeks, and I can see her shaking from here. Christ! I don’t like hurting women, but there’s no way, just no fucking w
ay. Leaning over to the enforcer, I let him know I agree. “I’ll just have a word with her first, then tell her gently. Don’t think I could bear to see her try and strip.”

  “I’ve just had breakfast, man.” As he pretends to make a vomiting sound, I bat Blade’s arm, knowing I’ll be unable to hold it together if he doesn’t stop.

  Road brings her over. I look her down, and then a little bit up. There isn’t far to go. Then being polite, I hold out my hand. “I’m Dart, this here’s my brother, Blade. And you are…?”

  The little thing answers in a surprisingly husky and sexy voice, “I’m Alex.”

  My eyebrow rises. “I was expecting someone different.”

  “You spoke to my sister, Celine, last night.” She looks down at her feet.

  And she’d misled me. I feel a twinge of anger. If she’d been upfront and honest, we wouldn’t be going through this charade now. Blade nudges my arm, and when I look at him, gives me a pointed look. He knows me too well, so I tamp my rage back down. Fuck it though, this is a waste of my time. Did she encourage her sister? Make her ask on her behalf? Thinking back, there were two of them there last night. Though one quick glance had been sufficient for me to dismiss this one. Did they plot it together? And for what reason? Is this some kind of a joke?

  I look down at her face, the woman’s biting her lip. She looks nervous. I glance again at Blade, and he just shrugs. Oh fuck it, might as well get on with the pretence. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to strip. All I have to do is talk to her a while and find a kind way to explain why it wouldn’t work. Yeah, like that’s going to be easy.