by ANDREA SMITH
I got through my first couple of dance routines without a hitch. Tuesday was generally a less-crowded evening. It was mostly regulars in during weeknights.
I’d just changed into another costume. It was shiny gold boy shorts, with a matching sleeveless gold vest. I accented it with four-inch black leather boots, and a glittery, sequined cowboy hat.
Kevin poked his head around the corner of the dressing room.
“Front and center, Diamond. There’s a dance request for you, followed by a customer-purchased drink.”
Please don’t let it be Harry.
I knew immediately when the first chords of the tune blared out from the speakers that this request hadn’t come from Harry. It was Steppenwolf’s ‘Born to be Wild.’
I took the stage and, immediately, my eyes met with Slate’s incredibly blue ones. I saw the shadow of a smile cross his sensual lips as I took the pole and twirled to the beat of the song. My heart fluttered as I watched him watching me. None of his biker buddies were around. He must have been flying solo.
The song ended, and I descended the three steps from the stage to the main floor. Slate was on his feet, nodding toward a table near the back. I saw Vince nearby. He was making sure Slate didn’t touch me. Vince seemed much more attentive when the gentleman was a biker instead of an old geezer, like Harry.
He held a chair out for me, as any perfect gentleman would have done. Renaldo took our drink order. Slate ordered bourbon straight up, and I requested my usual club soda. I was nervous, for some reason. His presence unnerved me.
“You have some nice moves, Diamond. Did the song justice out there. I like that.”
“Glad you got your money’s worth, Slate,” I said in my husky club voice.
I watched as he cocked an eyebrow, a slight smile gracing his lips. “I’m not sure about that, Diamond Girl. I guess that remains to be seen.”
I gaped at him, feeling myself flush. He didn’t talk like any biker that I’d seen around the place. There was a quality to his voice. His choice of words hinted at something more than biker lingo. I was certainly no expert on bikers. And maybe I was basing my opinion on stereotypical impressions.
The several moments of silence between us was making me more self-conscious.
“So, Slate, tell me about yourself? Where are your biker buddies tonight?”
“I really don’t give a shit where they are. We have separate lives, you know?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… . . .”
“Insult me? You didn’t. I’m used to the stereotypical comments. I’m sure you’re used to them in your line of work, right?”
Point well taken.
“Yeah, you got that right,” I said with a throaty laugh.
“How long have you been dancing in clubs like this, Diamond?”
“Not long,” I said with a sigh, “kind of new to this circuit.”
“You’re not from Indy?”
“No, Kansas,” I replied, “And then Chicago, and now here. How about you, Slate?”
He took a sip of his drink that had just arrived and shrugged.
“I’m from all over. I really don’t call anywhere home for long.”
It almost seemed as if Slate had a script.
Like me…
Or maybe it was a macho biker thing.
“So, are you a member of the Outlaws?”
“Do you see an OMC patch on this jacket?”
“No, but then, I’m no expert on biker gangs, either.”
“They’re called clubs, not gangs, Diamond.”
Whatever.
They were mostly criminals, from what I’d observed.
“So, what do you do outside of the club?” I asked, cautiously.
“I manage,” he replied with a shrug.
“Well, you must work. How else can you afford to make special requests and buy a dancer a drink at these prices?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You aren’t going to get rich off of me, baby. Maybe that old geezer can hook you up. He didn’t seem to lack for money.”
What the hell?
“Fuck off, Slate.”
His blue eyes were locked on my green ones. All humor had left his face. His eyes were as cold as ice instantly. He perused me up and down, and I saw his jaw twitch as his gaze came to rest on my left cheek bone. His eyes darkened.
He lifted his hand to my face. His thumb lightly caressed my outer cheekbone underneath my eye. Vince was immediately in the vicinity.
“It’s okay, Vince,” I called over my shoulder. Slate removed his thumb from my cheek.
“Who fucked you up?” he asked.
His gaze was now burning into me, waiting for an answer. I didn’t owe him a response, let alone an explanation. I finished my club soda, turning my face away from him.
“I asked you a question, Diamond. Who the hell left that mark on you? I want to know who it is that I need to fuck up.”
“My husband,” I replied, returning my gaze to his. “It was my husband, okay?”
I saw a quick look of disbelief cross over his face. He turned his head, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm.
“Christ,” he muttered. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Diamond? You put up with shit like that from your old man?”
“It’s none of your concern, Slate. Is our time up yet? I need to have my make-up touched up before the next set.”
“Yeah, babe. We’re done here.”
I scooted my chair back and hurried away from him. He was making me feel like trash. How in the hell could some biker dude make me feel like trash? But he had. I was certain he hadn’t meant to, but at the moment, it was how I felt. I also felt out of sorts with my departure. I realized it was when he said we were “done here.” What had that meant?
I quickly banished those thoughts from my mind. What the hell did it matter? I was certainly not going to get involved with some young biker. I headed into the dressing room as Margo was finishing up with Jade.
“Need a touch up, hon?”
I nodded, too frazzled by the brief time I’d spent one-on-one with Slate to try and make small talk with Margo.
“I saw you out there with the hottie biker,” she said, as I took the chair that Jade had just left. “I poked my head out when I knew your number was up to see who your admirer was. Just so you know, I can be nosy that way with dancers that I care about.”
I eyed her warily. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw the way she fussed over me like a mother hen. We had to be around the same age.
“Is he a regular here?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve seen him in here before, though. He just started hanging around with the others, I don’t know, maybe around last spring, I guess. The dancers here sure are crazy about him, especially Garnet. I think the old Diamond used to hang with the bikers before she was fired. Hell, that was probably her downfall. She started living a different life after she got involved with Slash.”
“Who’s Slash?”
“I think his real name’s Jamie. He’s one of the Outlaws, been in the club for a while. He took to the previous Diamond. He still comes in with the others sometimes. I think he’s one of the higher-ups in the Indy club. He acted like he owned her. That was her fault for letting it happen. I know he used to take her tips from her, the lazy son-of-a-bitch. Then he used to bruise her up nicely, if he thought she was dancing too provocatively for one of the customers. That girl was in a no-win situation. Janine banned them all from here for a while. She lifted the ban once she fired Diamond. She won’t stand for any of the dancers getting involved with that bunch, though.”
“I don’t intend to get involved with anyone,” I said to her bluntly.
“This is the first time I’ve seen him ask for a private drink with any of the dancers, though. He might have plans for you.”
“Please, Margo. He’s got to be a twenty-something biker. What could he pos
sibly want with me?”
“Hmm, that’s a tough one. Couldn’t be your looks or your body. I bet it’s your money he’s after,” she said, snickering loudly. “Yeah, that must be it.”
I gave her my version of a dirty look. I wasn’t especially good at those yet. I was still learning.
“Bikers around here are bad news, Diamond, even after hours. I don’t think you’re the type to fit in with that group. I’m no expert, but I’ve done enough time in clubs like this to know a little something. I don’t see you as a biker bitch, not even for someone as hot as Slate. He seems to have earned the respect of his colleagues, but I’ve heard stories about how bikers treat their chicks, you know? Pass them around to their buddies, discipline them in violent ways. Of course, maybe I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, by the looks of that eye. Did a biker do that to you?”
“Of course not, Margo. Damn, give me some credit, please.”
“I’ll be glad to, darlin’ just as soon as you tell me that whoever gave you that shiner is missing a gonad.”
I lowered my eyes from her expectant gaze. Now, I was not only feeling like a piece of trash, but a pitiful one at that.
“There, finished,” she said, spinning the chair around so that I could see the repair job.
“Thanks, Margo,” I replied, softly. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I don’t intend to let it happen again.”
“That’s my girl,” she said, smiling for the first time at me this evening.
chapter 9
I hadn’t seen Slate on Thursday or Friday as I worked my usual shifts. Some of the other bikers, along with their girlfriends, had been in the club, acting extremely rowdy. Janine had kicked them out for the evening, after taking a bunch of shit from them.
The biker chicks seemed to bring out the nastiness in the guys. Their behavior was much more belligerent, except with their men. They were fairly subservient to them. They would stand while their men sat, fetch their drinks, and speak only when spoken to. It kind of reminded me of my life with Jack, only without the sex and leather.
I’d done pretty well in tips this evening, bagging $585. I’d been tucking my tips away at home in a metal lock box. I wasn’t sure what had prompted me to do that because Jack was never home. I guess I considered it part of my secret life; the one that I had locked away from everyone else.
I’d changed into a pair of tight, ragged jeans, a pullover sweater, and leather boots. I grabbed my sweatshirt hoodie from the hook, shrugging it on over my head. I slung my shoulder bag over my arm and headed out.
I didn’t see Vince or Ethan on the floor. The other bouncer, Jay, was busy keeping some guy who was totally wasted from climbing up onto the stage where Emerald was dancing. Emerald was twenty-two years old, black, and extremely petite. She’d relocated from Detroit with her boyfriend, Ivan, about six months ago. Ivan had lost his job at one of the automotive plants. He was currently working as a millwright at one of the factories here in Indy. I knew Emerald missed her family terribly. Margo and I’d both taken to mothering her. There was something very fragile about Emerald.
Jay seemed to have the situation well under control, finally grabbing the drunk by the scruff of his neck and escorting him out the front door. This had brought a series of booing from his cohorts, who were still ogling Emerald. Jay saw me as I approached the door to leave.
“I’ll walk you to the bus stop, Diamond.”
“No, that’s okay. You need to stay here and keep an eye out for Emerald. I have a feeling those idiots over there are going to make it tough on her, since you booted their buddy. Where are Vince and Ethan?”
“Ah, fuck, there was a major fight over on the other side. Some of those bikers were roughing up their chicks. Vince and Ethan are waiting for the cops to show.”
“Really, I’m good,” I said. “Keep your eye out on things here, okay?”
“Be careful, babe.” With that, Jay turned his attention back to the floor, and I made a swift exit out into the dark night.
It was clear out. For late November, the weather had remained above normal temperatures. It was cold and chilly, but well above freezing. There was no cloud cover so the stars lit up the night sky.
I was nearly to the corner where the bus stopped when I heard the loud and vicious sound of a motorcycle next to me. I kept walking, looking straight ahead, even as I heard the engine slow down to a not-quite-so-loud idle. Undeterred, I continued on my way and, finally, I heard the engine shut off completely.
I didn’t slow my pace, and I ignored my peripheral vision. I finally heard a male voice call out.
“Diamond, hey! What’s your fucking hurry? Got to get home to that violent, piece-of-shit old man of yours?”
I stopped and looked over into the beautiful, totally amused blue eyes of Slate. He was untying his do-rag, shaking his hair free. I noticed then that he had a pierced ear. It was totally sexy.
I glanced over at him impassively, shrugging my shoulders.
“Maybe I am. You wouldn’t want to hold me up now and make him mad if I miss this bus? It’s the last one.”
“So, you’re telling me that the rat bastard doesn’t even bother picking you up? You ride a freakin’ bus home?”
“Who’s to say he isn’t watching our three kids?”
I watched as a slow grin spread across his handsome face as he contemplated what I said. His muscular arms were crossed in front of him. His leather jacket couldn’t hide the fact that he was totally buff.
“Naww,” he said with a grin. “That body of yours doesn’t look like it’s been through childbirth, baby. Way too firm and way too slender. It does have a way of making a guy want to plant his seed, though, I give you that.”
Oh wow…
“So, how about it, Diamond?” he teased, re-tying his do-rag into place.
“How about what?” I tried to make my husky voice sound icy cold, but I wasn’t sure that I was pulling it off.
“You want to carry my baby?”
“Maybe later,” I answered dryly, continuing to walk towards the corner.
Slate was rolling his motorcycle along side of me in the street, next to the curb.
“Hop on,” he said. “I’ve got a helmet strapped on for special passengers.”
“Isn’t that for your biker bitch?” I asked, putting my hand on my hip.
“That position hasn’t been filled yet. Are you applying?”
“I’ll pass,” I replied. “One asshole in my life is quite enough.”
I heard him laugh genuinely. He had a nice laugh. It was sexy, like everything else about him. I looked over at him and noticed for the first time that he had a dimple when he smiled widely…just one more thing identified in his sexy-attribute inventory.
“Come on,” he urged, giving me a wink. “I can take you anywhere you want to go. You don’t need to take a bus with all of those perverted freaks riding around on them this time of night.”
I stopped and turned to face him.
“I think I’ll take my chances with the perverted freaks on the bus rather than the ones on motorcycles this evening, thank you very much, Mr. Slate.”
“It’s just Slate, baby,” he said with a chuckle. “I presume your name’s something other than ‘Diamond.’ What shall I call you?”
“Mrs. Diamond,” I answered as the bus pulled over to the curb and I stepped aboard. I heard Slate’s gorgeous laugh as the door to the bus closed behind me.
I took my seat and watched out the window as Slate revved his motorcycle back to life. He turned it around and headed back in the direction from which he’d come. I was thoughtful as I watched him disappear.
He didn’t seem like a typical biker, not that I had all that much knowledge or experience with them. Still there was something powerful about him, yet not frightening or repulsive. His grooming was different. He had the five o’clock shadow thing going, the longer unkempt hair, the pierced ear, yet there
wasn’t anything disgusting about his build or grooming. His teeth looked well taken care of and incredibly white and straight; no tobacco stains or missing teeth.
There I had gone with my stereotypical thinking. I’m sure he had his own opinion of dancers. He probably thought I was a “clap-trap” or an easy piece-of-ass that had been done by many until my abusive husband took me in. He probably figured I waited on my hubby hand and foot and looked forward to his occasional attention, if nothing more than a slap across my cheek to let me know I was his possession. Yeah, I got it. We both had a lot to learn.
The ride to the Park and Ride went quickly. I entertained myself with thoughts of Slate. I thought of his beautiful blue eyes, his sensuous lips, and how they might feel on mine. I thought of his hands touching me. I actually was getting moist down there thinking about him!
What the hell is my problem?
I departed the bus, digging for my keys in my purse as I passed the attendant station. I gave my usual wave to the attendant as I passed. I hit the remote to unlock my car and opened the door, ready to climb inside and head for home. I was exhausted. Right before I closed the door of the car, I heard the sound of a loud motorcycle as it peeled out from the curb across the street from the Park and Ride.
Something about the sound of the bike’s engine caused me to shiver and wonder if it was him.
chapter 10
Thanksgiving Day was like any other day for me this year. I nuked a turkey and dressing Lean Cuisine, eating it in front of the television, while I watched the Thanksgiving Day parade. I’d talked to Becky earlier on the phone. She’d wanted me to come to their house for Thanksgiving dinner, but the truth was, I didn’t want to pig out on turkey and make small talk with Becky’s family all afternoon. I had to work my Thursday shift at Jewels tonight. I certainly didn’t want to go there gassy.
I hadn’t seen Slate in the club on Tuesday when I worked. Of course, none of the other bikers had been in either. I mentally kicked myself in the ass for finding myself looking for him when I was on stage. I needed to take Margo’s advice and keep clear. Janine wouldn’t tolerate it at the club and I certainly wasn’t cut out for the type of life a biker would provide. Aside from the obvious: I was married. I didn’t need to cloud the issue of dealing with that by forcing some idiotic distraction to get into the way.
