by Nicole James
“What’s wrong, Son?”
I shake my head.
“This looks like girl problems. You ain’t had ’em in a while, but I still know the signs.”
The corner of my mouth pulls up. It’s all the response I give her.
“Cullen’s daughter?”
I nod.
“So do I ask what’d she do or what’d you do?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Bullshit.”
I huff out a laugh. Direct as ever. God love her.
“Un-complicate it for me, then,” she pushes.
“You want it blunt—Michaela thinks I may have killed her father.”
“What?”
“I didn’t.”
“Of course you didn’t. But why would she think that?”
“She found something that points to the club, well … me, actually. It’s bullshit, but it’s got her questioning everything about me, about us.”
“So, set her straight.”
“I tried. She wouldn’t listen.”
“Give her time. She’ll come around.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“She has to, because it ain’t true, and none of that jives with the man you are inside. Surely, she’s seen who you really are by now, right?”
I shrug.
“Do you love this girl, Son?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Okay, yeah, I do. I thought I did. But I’m not the kind of man who wants a woman who’ll believe the worst in him.”
“And yet you do everything in your power to project that image. You expect people to see the worst. You even encourage it. The motorcycle, the leather, the tattoos—it all projects that image. Maybe she needs you to be more than a member of that club. Maybe she needs you to be her hero.”
“I’m not cut out to be anyone’s hero.”
“Son, you were my hero.”
“Ma, I’ve been labeled a felon and a murderer by society.”
“Son—”
“No, Ma, you need to understand this. I’ll do anything for that girl, anything to win her love, just don’t ask me to be more than I’ve been labeled, because that’s not who I am. Not anymore.”
“Sly, you’re wrong. You’re so much more than what you’ve been labeled. I see it, and deep down, so does she.”
I study my boots, knowing exactly what Michaela sees when she looks at me now, and none of it’s good.
“You know, Son, you can be strong, but you can also be stubborn too. That strength, it got you where you are, got you through everything life threw at you, but the irony of it is—it might be what’s holding you back.”
“Maybe.”
“She’ll come around.”
I turn to her, clutching at straws, at any hope she’ll throw me. “You really believe that?”
“She don’t come around on her own, then you better bring her around.”
I huff. Like that’s so easy. Ma’s faith is a little biased.
“You think I don’t know how women flock to you like bees to honey? They drop at your feet. I’m sure you’re up to the challenge of this one. Besides, I’m not getting any younger, and I want grandbabies some day.”
I chuckle at that one.
“Don’t you want children, Son?”
“Yeah, sure. Someday.”
“You’re not getting any younger either. Don’t live your life waitin’ on ‘someday’ to come around. You’ll just end up wasting years.”
“I still got you though, don’t I?”
“You bet, but I’m not gonna be here forever. Just focus on what’s in front of you, baby. Michaela is the one. I know it. I got a feelin’.”
I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am. Who am I to argue with you when you get a feelin’ about something.”
“Don’t tease me.”
I kiss her hand. “I love you, Ma.” I pull her in for a hug.
She grins and pats my cheek. “Now go fix my sink.”
Twenty-Eight
Michaela—
It’s been a few days since my blowup with Sly. I’ve stuck mostly to the bar, working to get the violations taken care of and the bar up and running. The refrigeration unit was finally installed yesterday. I’ve drained my savings and with the help of my brother, sold my car. Today I needed a break, so I called Bethany to meet me up here at the diner for lunch.
We sit in a booth along the wall. As we wait for our food, I notice a white corvette pull up and park in the angled parking space out front. Two women climb out and walk in. They catch the eyes of every man in the place as they stroll across the room, their heads in the air like they’re royalty.
There’s a good reason they’re turning heads; they’re both stunningly beautiful, and their hair and makeup are done to perfection. I scan their outfits, finding nothing flashy about how they’re dressed, other than the fact that I know their clothes all carry the best labels. The first is a curvy brunette with long thick hair that falls all the way to the top of her perfect heart-shaped ass. She’s got a to-die-for Gucci bag over her arm. The second is a tall blonde with her hair partially pulled up high on her head in a waterfall of perfectly highlighted long curls. She carries a Prada handbag.
They slide in the booth behind Bethany, and I listen in on their conversation.
“North was a bear last night. He barely even said goodnight when I was leaving.”
“Don’t let it bother you, you know how he is. Did you have any problems from that little guy in the corner? He was a real douche.”
“No, I guess I missed him.”
“You always luck out. How much did you pull in last weekend?”
“About six grand. You?”
“Close. Gotta love those bachelor parties.”
“Next weekend should be great. I hear there’s a group of big-shots coming in from Atlanta, some sports team, I think.”
“Wow, they’re always big spenders.”
“Yeah, last spring I raked in a ton when they came out to the club.”
I meet Bethany’s eyes. They get huge and I know she’s listening in as well. Our food is brought over and I pick at my salad, distracted by my problems and the women’s conversation.
“I heard North and Aspen talking about how we’re gonna be shorthanded, with Persia, Star, and Tiffany being out with the flu. He was even contemplating trying to pull in some talent from Atlanta for the weekend.”
“Crap. I don’t want some big headliners coming in and taking the lion’s share of our money.”
“Girl, same.”
“Centerfolds is a nice gig; a lot nicer than a lot of clubs I’ve danced at. It’s upscale, and the security is awesome. I don’t want some Atlanta chicks coming in and deciding they might want to stick around permanently.”
“I’m with you, but we need more girls in the rotation, especially if these guys are going to want the VIP rooms.”
“Those are the money-makers too. I hope North doesn’t let the Atlanta bitches take up all that business.”
“He won’t. North’s fair, and Aspen will make sure we’re taken care of.”
“Guess so. I wish my friend Heather was in town. I’d call her to come dance. She’s really good.”
“Yeah, I wish I knew someone, too, but none of my friends are dancers.”
The waitress comes over and takes their order, then retreats. I stare down at my plate, thinking about all the money these girls make in a weekend. I bet they’d have no problem paying off a balloon note. My fork jabs at the lettuce, but slows as an idea takes form. A few good weekends like that and I’d have what I still need for the balloon payment. Well, that combined with the money Sly wouldn’t take.
I twirl a lock of hair around my finger. But could I do it, actually dance in a strip club? Would they even hire me? I lift my eyes to the two women. I probably don’t compare to them in beauty, but I might be able to pull off the attitude.
How desperate am I? I think about everything that’
s on the line. Am I willing to lose the bar, my family’s legacy and their only income because of my inhibition and pride? Before I can lose my nerve, I slide from the booth.
Bethany looks up at me questioningly, and her eyes follow me as I move to the booth behind her.
“Excuse me, ladies, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.” I hold out my hand to one of them. “Hi, I’m Michaela Mooney. I run Mooney’s Pub. Could I talk to you a moment?”
The tall blonde shakes my hand. “I’m Sabrina, hi. This is Brandy.” She nods to the brunette. “Sure, I guess.”
The brunette slides over and I scoot in. I tuck my hair behind my ear, stalling as I try to think of how to start. They stare at me expectantly.
“Um, well, you see … I heard you saying that the club was short dancers for this weekend.”
Sabrina immediately understands where I’m going with this. “Do you dance?”
“I’ll be honest with you, I have no experience, but I’m desperate for money. If I don’t come up with some soon, I’m going to lose the bar, and it’s been in my family for generations.”
Brandy turns to me. “Mooney’s? I love that bar! That would suck.”
I nod. “My father died and now it’s my mother and three younger siblings sole source of income. My father left us with a mortgage loan and there’s a large payment due soon. I’ve been working my ass off trying to keep the place running. I’ve drained my bank account, sold my car, and now I’m at the end of my rope. I’ve got thirty days to come up with the payment or they’re going to foreclose and take the building from us.”
The two exchange a look. Sabrina runs her eyes over me. “So you want to try dancing?”
“At this point I’m desperate to try anything.”
“But do you have any dance skills?” Sabrina pushes.
I shake my head. “Do you think you could teach me? I’d pay you. It’d be worth it if I could make a bunch of money dancing.”
“If we weren’t in a bind, I would say no, but … What do you think, Brandy?”
“You know me. I’m a sucker for a sad story.”
“Would Centerfolds hire me?” I ask.
Again, they look at each other. Brandy says, “Well, Aspen would sure understand being down on your luck. She’s been there. Hell, most of us have. That’s how most girls end up dancing. And they are in a bind.”
Sabrina arches one brow. “Look, if you’re really serious about this and you’re not going to waste our time by chickening out at the last moment, I could probably give you a couple lessons and get you in. But only because I like Mooney’s.”
“Oh my God, you’re a lifesaver! When can we start?”
Sabrina chuckles, then rolls her eyes and asks, “Can I finish my lunch?”
Five hours later, Bethany and I are sitting in Sabrina’s condo while she does my hair and makeup. My hair is teased-up and sprayed. I look like some eighties rock star. Brandy applies heavy eyeliner to my lids, giving me cat eyes. Appropriate since Sabrina is slipping leopard cat ears on my head. It goes with the sexy barely-there outfit she’s loaning me to dance in tonight.
I stare at my reflection, hardly recognizing myself.
“Wow,” Bethany says. “You’re fucking hot, girl!”
“What do you think?” Brandy turns to Sabrina and asks.
“Some of my best work ever!” she replies, and they high-five each other with a smack of their palms.
Sabrina picks up her cell phone and makes a call, putting it on speaker.
A woman’s voice comes on the line. “Hey, Sabrina. Please don’t tell me you’re sick with the flu too.”
Sabrina chuckles. “Nope. Actually, I may have good news. I’ve got a friend in town for a couple weeks. She was wondering if she could take a few shifts at the club.”
“Can she dance?”
“She’s not bad. Pretty too. She’s got this gorgeous hair the color of pale fire.”
“I’m desperate, so I’ll take your word for it, darlin’. Just get her ass up here tonight.”
“Will do. See you soon.”
She disconnects. “You’re in, babe.”
“God, thank you so much for all of this. Really, you’re like my fairy godmothers or something.”
“You’re welcome. Now you’ve got to do the rest, girl,” Sabrina warns me.
Bethany’s eyes cut to me, and the look she gives me asks without words if I’m really going to do this. I swallow and look away because I have to do this.
Brandy looks at Sabrina. “She’s got the dance down, but she still knows nothing about how to work the floor.”
“You’re right.” Sabrina puts her hands on her hips and turns to me. “Listen up, Michaela, I’m gonna give you all my best tricks, okay, and I never do that.”
I nod, determined to learn everything she’s willing to share.
Twenty-Nine
Sly—
The six of us roll up to Centerfolds and park up front. It’s a clear, starry night, but chilly as hell. A cold snap rolled in yesterday, dropping the temperature, so we’ve got the leather out tonight—chaps and everything. Normally, we wouldn’t bother, not for a short ride, but we’re coming back from a run that had us rolling over five hundred miles up to Nashville and back.
I climb from my bike and pull off my helmet, then grab a ball cap and put it on backwards. I’m not in the mood to party, but its Bash’s birthday and Chaos insisted we do it up right.
“Guys, this isn’t necessary,” Bash claims, and I’m sure he’s anxious to get home to his ol’ lady.
“Fuck that shit, Bash. We’re doin’ this. Besides, I need a break from the clubhouse. Change of scenery.” Chaos growls.
North smacks the back of his fist on my chest. “Maybe it’ll pull Sly out of his funk too.”
Bouncer chuckles. “I’ve seen that funk, she’s five feet, eight inches of sex-on-a-stick.”
Chaos drops his helmet on his seat. “Aw, did somebody finally wrap your dick around their little finger, Sly?”
“Fuck off, all of you.” I stride toward the door and pull it open, holding it for my five fucking brothers who know me like the back of their hand and know just where to land a dig. If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Let’s get drunk.”
“First good idea you’ve had all week, asshole,” Bash says, pinching my cheek as he walks past.
I slap his hand away. “Just for that, I’m gonna make them sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to your ass, dickhead.”
That wipes the smile from his face. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”
I just grin and waggle my brows. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.
We troop in, not bothering with the cover charge, because we own the fucking place. We find a table in the back, center stage.
Ariel scurries to remove the Reserved sign, and I realize Chaos must have planned this night and made the call. She takes our orders, and we all slump back. I unsnap my leather cut and yank off my gloves, shoving them in a pocket, then pull off my night riding KD glasses with the yellow lenses and shove them up on my hat.
I glance over at Jinx, who, of course, keeps his dark shades on and shake my head, grinning. How the man sees in here with them on, I’ll never know. It’s like he’s got magical cat eyes or some shit.
Ariel returns with a tray of drinks, as well as the bottle of tequila and six shot glasses that Chaos ordered. He passes them around and tilts the bottle, filling everyone’s glass.
“To Bash. Happy birthday, brother,” he says.
We all raise our glasses, and then toss the shots back.
The place is loud with a thumping, driving rock beat. There’s a dancer up on stage doing her act. It’s Bad Bunny. She’s dressed like a Playboy bunny and that always goes over well with the crowd. Tonight’s no different. She’s got the white shirt cuffs and collar along with black fishnet thigh-high stockings. As she finishes her act, she takes off her corseted top, leaving only a G-string complete with a fluffy
white bunny tail. She shakes her ass as the spot fades to black. The DJ introduces the next dancer, and the music changes to Mötley Crüe’s cover of an old Brownsville Station song, “Smokin’ in the Boys Room.”
Brandy struts out dressed in a sexy schoolgirl outfit complete with a tiny plaid skirt and her hair up in a ponytail. She’s got a cigarette in her hand while she leans against the pole and rubs her back seductively up and down the length of it. She spies the crowd out of the corner of her eye, and with red painted lips takes a hit off the cigarette, then tilts her head back and slowly blows the smoke toward the ceiling. She’s probably breaking city ordinances, but it’s illuminated in the spotlight and looks cool as hell. Then she drops the cigarette and grinds the butt under her stiletto.
Several guys whistle.
She jumps up on the pole and does an inverted split, flashing her perfect ass revealed in her G-string.
More hoots come from the audience.
I reach for the tequila bottle and pour myself another shot, losing interest. I bump shoulders with Jinx. “Everything good down at the rail yard?”
He nods and runs his hand down his face. “Since the trouble we had with my truck, the yard manager’s stepped up. Been more vigilant about vagrants and rail-runners.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Sucks it had to come to what it did. I hate that Talia had to witness that poor girl’s murder. She doin’ okay?”
He nods. “She’s fine. I’m makin’ sure of it.”
Ariel comes back, smiling sweetly. “You boys ready for another round?”
“Keep ’em comin’, doll,” Chaos orders.
I lean back and motion her over with two fingers. She leans in close at the back of my chair, and I tell her my request. She pulls back, glances at Bash, then smiles and nods to me before moving off to fill my request.
A minute later, she returns with a couple of the girls, and as Brandy leaves the stage, they start singing “Happy Birthday” loud enough for the entire room to hear.
Bash looks over at me. “You’re a dead man.”
I bust out laughing and even Jinx chuckles at that one.
Ariel sets her empty tray down and crawls onto Bash’s lap and grinds against him.
