by Sarah Bale
King gives me a megawatt smile. “Ms. Mayhem.”
I swear to god, my knees go a little weak. Maybe it’s the way he lowers his already gravelly voice, or maybe it’s the look in his eyes, but, for the first time in my life, I don’t hate hearing my last name.
A nervous giggle escapes my lips. “Uh, hi. Can I get you a drink?”
Claws lets out a loud huff and takes off. If King and Saint notice, they don’t let it show.
Saint answers, “Two shots of tequila, please.”
King snorts. “Better give us the whole bottle.”
I grab two shot glasses and a bottle of the top-shelf tequila. King salutes me, picking up the items and heading toward the office. Saint stays back, watching me.
“Everything going okay?”
I’m not sure if he’s asking about the club or me personally, so I say, “Yeah. It’s kind of slow tonight.”
“A lot of the guys left town, but they’ll be back next week.”
“Why will they be back?”
He makes a face, and I think I’ve made a mistake.
“I’m sorry. It’s not my business.”
Grabbing a towel, I walk to the other end of the bar and wipe a water ring left from a bottle of beer. Saint follows me.
“They’ll be back because we’re having Church next week.” He gives me a smile. “And it’s okay to ask questions. Just know that not everything can be answered.”
I nod. “Thanks for that. And thanks for having Bash give me a ride. Eventually I’ll save enough money to get a car, but for now I’m at the mercy of rideshares or my bike.”
His eyebrows lift in surprise. “You ride?”
“Ah, no. I meant my bicycle.”
He throws his head back, laughing loudly. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s useful for getting around the campus.”
“Such a baby.”
But, his eyes are dancing and my stomach is fluttering.
“I better go. King has a short attention span.”
I grin like a fool as he walks away. Enough so that several of the guys comment on how happy I look. And then I think of Agent Hill and his threats. Just like that, my good mood is gone and I remember why I’m here.
9
Olivia
Agent Hill blows up my phone over the next few days, but I ignore him. Well, mostly. I do send him a text on Sunday, telling him the club is having Church later in the week. He gets pissy when he asks when, and I say I don’t know. Because I don’t. But, if I were to guess, I’d say it’s going to be Thursday or Friday. Jas texted me on Tuesday, asking me to come in today to help unload an alcohol shipment. I didn’t tell Agent Hill this.
In the meantime, I pick up a few extra shifts on the app, earning a grand and two return customers. Maybe I can earn enough to pay back Agent Hill with interest. I’m not holding my breath, but it won’t hurt to try. Plus, the extra shifts have taken the edge off my mood.
Bash sends me a text, letting me know he’s downstairs. I’m not going to lie – I’m really enjoying spending time with him. He’s doesn’t intimidate me like Saint and King, and we have a lot in common. Plus, he’s super cute. Today, he’s wearing a black Henley with his cut over it. His jeans are faded, but look so good on him. His black boots finish off his outfit.
He grins when he sees me and tosses me my helmet.
“Hope you’re ready to work. Jas went crazy ordering booze in. There’s got to be a hundred boxes to unload.”
“Maybe she’s thirsty?”
He laughs. “That’s probably the truth.”
I climb on the bike, wrapping my arms around his waist. As we drive through the parking lot, I can’t help but notice how empty it is. I’m running out of time to find a place to stay and I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do. One of the places I looked at is in my price range, but I just can’t get over the roaches that openly roamed the countertops in broad daylight. I shudder just thinking about it.
“Cold?” Bash calls over his shoulder.
“I’m good,” I call back.
We pull up to the clubhouse. Seeing it in the daytime is always weird. It’s such an ordinary building with beige brick. Bash said it used to be the headquarters for fishing company based out of the gulf, but the owners realized they were too far from the water and sold their lot. It also explains the kitchen inside, where they used to have seafood cookouts for the employees.
There are two flowerbeds that flank each side of the walkway that look sad and pitiful. I’ve never lived anywhere that I could have my own flowerbed, and seeing this one just breaks my heart. When I mentioned this to Bash, he said a flowerbed wouldn’t last long with the guys and their boots. He’s probably right.
Jas is leaning against the bar, talking to Grizzly. She’s wearing short shorts – I’m talking I can almost see her cootchie - and a bikini top, which she manages to make look cute. I suspect she and Grizzly are getting serious, if the hickeys on her neck are any indication. They kiss, loudly, and he takes off, slapping Bash on the back as he passes.
Bash says to me, “Text when you’re ready to go.”
I nod and he winks at me before following after Grizzly.
Jas says, “It’s still strange to see Bash with someone. He’s been single so long that we were starting to wonder…”
I don’t reply and follow her out the side door. Bash wasn’t kidding when he said there was a hundred boxes out here.
“Dang Jas. How much did you order?”
“It’s not all booze. There’s going to be a huge cook-out Sunday night. The first of many to come this summer.” She grins at me. “Summertime is the best.”
“If you say so.”
Because all I can feel is the humid air that’s making my hair stick to the back of my neck and my jeans cling to my thighs. As much as I hate wearing shorts, I might have to give in. Otherwise, I’m liable to pass out from heat stroke.
As if sensing my thoughts, Jas says, “I think we’re the same size. Do you want to borrow a pair of shorts?”
I’m about to say no, but then I look at the boxes.
“You know what, that would be awesome.”
“Come on.”
We go back inside and she leads me away from the bar and main space, toward a hallway with several doors on both sides. Some have nameplates and a few have decorations around the frame. I’m really not surprised when we stop in front of a door decorated with pink fluff and One Tree Hill photos all over it. I might not know much about Jas, but I know one thing – she’s the biggest One Tree Hill fan I’ve ever met in my life. There’s even a picture of her dressed up as a cheerleader from the show.
She pulls a key from her pocket and unlocks the door, walking in first. I follow. I’m surprised at how clean the room is. For some reason, I had her pegged as the messy type. Her room is small, reminding me of my dorm. Much like the door, there are One Tree Hill posters lining the walls.
“Where did you find all of the posters?”
Because that show has been off TV for a long time.
“Ebay, baby. You’d be surprised what you can find there.” She goes to her dresser and pulls out two pairs of shorts. “The bathroom is over there.”
She points to the only other door in the room. I go in, closing the door behind me. Just by looking at the shorts, I can pretty much eliminate one pair, so I set them on the vanity. They’re as short as the ones she’s wearing. Unzipping my pants, I kick them off and then put the black shorts on. They’re still shorter than I’d like, but I’m already cooling down, so that’s a plus.
When I go back into the room, Jas whistles.
“Dang girl. Look at those legs.”
“They’re not too short, are they?”
She points to her own shorts. “You’re asking the wrong person. I only keep the pair you’re wearing so my mom doesn’t freak out when I visit.”
She motions for me to follow. We go back outside and begin bringing in boxes, stacking them aroun
d the bar. I can’t help but notice how dead it is. And how I keep looking for Saint and King to show up.
“Where is everyone?”
“They’re either sleeping off whatever they did last night, or they’re at their own places.” She lifts another box. “But, they’ll all be here tomorrow, so we need to be ready.”
We work for the next hour, chatting easily. It’s hard to believe this is the same person who didn’t want to chat with me on my first night. Jas says it’s because she doesn’t like opening up to new people, because, in her experience, most people can’t hang with the lifestyle that comes with the club. I guess I can forgive her for that.
Jas closes the door as we bring the last box inside. “Thank god for air conditioner. I’m sweating in places that no one should ever sweat in.”
“Me too. Thank you again for letting me borrow the shorts.”
“No problem.” She looks at the boxes and says, “I’ll start to unload the booze if you don’t mind unloading the food.”
“Sure.”
I grab a box marked condiments and carry it through the swinging doors. Again, I’m taken back by how unorganized the kitchen in. I put the box on the floor and then peek my head out the door.
“Do you think anyone would mind if I moved some things around in here?”
Jas is sitting on the floor behind the bar, unloading some alcohol. She glances up at me, as if I’ve lost my mind.
“I don’t think anyone would mind, but it’s probably pretty nasty in there,” she warns me.
“Cool. Thanks.”
I go back into the kitchen, looking around. Time to make some changes.
I spend the next few hours scrubbing the kitchen from floor to ceiling. Jas wasn’t kidding – it’s disgusting. Obviously, the health inspector hasn’t ever been here. When everything is clean and the scent of mildew is replaced with bleach, I begin moving equipment around. The breadbox goes further down the stainless-steel counter, so it’s closer to the walk-in refrigerator. I move the bus-tubs next to the giant sinks, away from the food prep area. And then I do my personal favorite task and arrange the spice rack in alphabetical order.
Jas pops her head in and lets out a gasp. “Oh my god. It looks awesome in here!”
I grin. “Thanks. I worked in a Mom-and-Pop diner last year. Picked up a few things there.”
“Can you cook?”
“A little.”
I’m being modest. I can cook – well, from what others have told me – but I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging.
She glances at her phone. “It’s almost dinner. You should throw something together for us and the girls. Get to know everyone.”
I hedge. “I’m not sure. Claws didn’t seem like she wanted to get to know me the other day.”
“Fuck Claws. No one likes her. She’s only here because she gives really good head.” She grins. “But seriously, get to know the others. You’ll like them.”
That makes me laugh. Jas does have a point. If I’m going to be here all summer, then I don’t want drama with any of the other girls.
I ask, “Do you have a nickname?”
“Yeah. It’s Jasmine, like the princess from Aladdin, but everyone calls me Jas.”
She looks nothing like the princess from Aladdin. She must guess my train of thought, because she throws her head back, laughing.
“I used to be a stripper before I started working here. Let’s just say it has something to do with that and the outfit I was wearing the day I met Saint.”
I feel a flash of jealousy deep in my stomach. The feeling is immediately replaced with one of shame. I shouldn’t be jealous of her. It’s not my business what she or Saint do in their spare time, even though the thought of them hooking up makes me a bit envious.
I ask, “What do you think everyone would like for dinner?”
Anything to get my mind off Saint.
She thinks. “Did we get any steaks in?”
“Two cases.”
“Can’t go wrong with steak.”
I grin. “Tell everyone to be here in two hours.”
“I can’t wait. I seriously can’t remember the last time I had a homecooked meal!” She pulls out her phone. “I’m going to text them right now.”
She walks away, typing furiously. Looking around, I plan what I’m going to make. And then I get to work.
Two hours later on the dot, Jas comes back into the kitchen.
“Oh my god. Olivia!”
She looks around, her mouth gaping. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve outdone myself.
“Is everyone here?”
She nods. “Yeah. Shit. I think we’re underdressed for this meal.”
I laugh. “I may have gotten carried away.”
“This is amazing. Everything smells so good!”
“I was thinking we can push the two big tables together. I know it’s more chairs than we need, but we can put the food in the middle of the table.”
“I’m on it.” She pops her head out the door. “Claws. Sissy. We need the two big tables pushed together.”
Someone – probably Claws – says something shitty, but a moment later the sound of metal scraping the floor fills the air.
I say, “Grab that tray. We’re starting off with salad and fresh rolls.”
I kind of cheated on the bread, using a kit, but I didn’t have enough time to make it the old-fashioned way. When I pull them from the oven, where I had them warming, Jas lets out a moan.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
We go to the main room, where several women sit at the table. Claws is glaring at me, and, when she notices me staring back, she turns her attention to the woman next to her, whispering something. The other woman looks up, a mean gleam in her eyes.
“Jas, is this the bitch fucking Bash?”
I know she’s trying to shock me, but it’s not working. I’ve dealt with way worse than this.
Jas replies, “Don’t be jealous, Karma.”
Karma is beautiful, well, except for her horrible attitude. She has long black hair that looks almost blue and shines when the light hits it just right. Her cheekbones are high and her lips are full, reminding me of a young Angelina Jolie. She smirks at me, as if she can sense my train of thought.
“Sorry honey, I don’t swing that way.”
Jas shakes her head. “Lay off her, Karma. Olivia made us an awesome meal, and I don’t want to spend it listening to you being a catty bitch.”
Karma’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything else.
Jas points to the other women. “That’s Sissy, Ducky, Kiwi, Mama Bear, Pinky, and you already know Claws and Foxy.”
Mama Bear lights a cigarette and says, “You going to stand there or serve us?”
This makes the others snicker. Mama Bear is the oldest one there, with a weathered face and eyes that look like she’s seen a thing or two. She watches me as I go to each plate, serving the salad.
When I’m finished, I put the bowl to the side and say, “I made homemade ranch and blue cheese dressing.”
They look at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Finally, Kiwi says, “Are you serious? You made it?”
“Uh, yeah?”
It’s a recipe I picked up at the restaurant. I made a few tweaks, and it’s pretty good. My favorite part is the chunks of actual blue cheese.
Kiwi pushes a piece of her kiwi green hair from her face. “My Ma used to make homemade blue cheese dressing.”
“I hope you like it.”
I set the bowls down and watch as they dive in. Mama Bear dips her finger into each bowl before nodding. She then proceeds to pour nearly half the bowl of blue cheese over her salad. While they eat, I go back into the kitchen and grab the other bowl of ranch dressing I made.
When I come back, Jas motions for me sit.
“You need to eat, too, Olivia.”
She serves some salad and hands me the plate. I dig in, listening to everyone talk. The girls chat to each
other, but you can definitely see who hangs out with who by the private conversations. Claws, Karma, and Sissy are laughing, tossing profanities around. Kiwi, Pinky, Ducky, Foxy, and Jas are talking about going shopping when a new store opens. And Mama Bear and Pinky are talking in low tones to each other, and I can’t hear what they’re saying.
But, I don’t feel left out. In fact, Ducky asks if I want to go shopping with them.
“I’m not sure,” I hedge. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Jas shakes her head. “You won’t be! It will be fun, too. Come on!”
“Sure. That sounds like fun.”
Ducky says, “Text Jas your address and we’ll pick you up. We usually go around noon on our shopping days.”
From the other end of the table, Claws pops off, “Noon! Ha! If I see you up before noon, I’ll swallow all of Tiny’s cum.”
“Fuck off, Claws. I can get up anytime I want. I just choose to sleep in late.” Ducky pauses. “And don’t act like you don’t love swallowing his cum!”
The others laugh loudly.
Jas leans over and says, “You’ll understand when you see Tiny.”
Pinky adds, “Just don’t let him get behind you. He’s a pervy old fucker who likes to grab ass.”
Claws says, “She doesn’t have to worry about that. Ms. Priss dresses like a nun. Won’t surprise me at all if that ends up being her nickname.”
I reply, “Well, I did go through a phase of wanting to be a nun after watching the Sound of Music when I was younger.” I lean forward and whisper, “Captain Von Trapp and that whistle were very inspiring.”
This gets another round of laughter from everyone. Even Mama Bear grins. The thing is, I’m being totally serious, on both accounts.
I ask, “So, how does Saint come up with everyone’s nicknames?”
Because Google wasn’t very helpful.
Mama Bear answers, “The Prez picks names that fit us. Plain and simple. Some are obvious and some are private.”
I think back to what Jas said about getting her name and, just as before, get that same jealous feeling.
“How long does it take to get one?”
“Depends on the chick,” Karma answers. “Some of us have nicknames on day one. Some never get them.”
