Respectable Riot

by Karen Renee

  When my eyes traveled back up to his face, his lips curled into a lopsided smile. “Sure did.” His left hand came up, my keys dangling from his thick index finger. “Go ahead. Take ‘em.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He shrugged, and I noticed how smooth his broad shoulders were. Dammit! I had to stop. He was good—no, great-looking— and he was an entertaining troublemaker, but he brought a woman to his bed last night. I kept him from getting laid...or did I? Now, why was I asking myself that?

  Carefully, I tried to pluck my keys from his hand, but he moved.

  “You scared of me?”

  I pressed my lips together as I thought about it. “No. I can just tell you’re, I don’t know. You’re trouble. Fun, but definitely a troublemaker.”

  He laughed, the loud and boisterous sound filled the room and the hallway. “Honey, you don’t know the half of it.”

  “Which begs the question, why are you doing this?”

  “You’re fun,” he muttered.

  My eyebrows arched, because I was not fun.

  “Fun to mess with, babe. Now take your keys.”

  Holding eye contact with him, I slid the key ring off his finger, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was something dangerous in his eyes.

  “Drive safe. He tries anything forceful again, call the cops. You call Andrea, you’re the one startin’ trouble, because Liar’s gonna wade in, which means the Riot is going to help you handle it.”

  IT WASN’T UNTIL I PULLED into the driveway that I realized Beast never did tell me why he called me “Country Club.” I shoved thoughts of him out of my mind while I trudged up to the front door.

  Trent opened the door when I was two feet away. “Where’ve you been, Jane?”

  “Where I’ve been isn’t half as important as how I’ve been, which is safe, by the way.”

  He leaned against the jamb, and it was lamentable how poorly he did it compared to Beast. I needed to keep Beast the hell out of this because that would complicate something that was already complicated enough. Except for his stocking feet, Trent was fully-dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt. There was nothing enticing about the way he was barring the door.

  “You’d have been safe here, too. Come in, dear. We need to discuss...things.”

  Here’s the thing. When Trent and I first met, it was just before I went off to college and he went off to law school. When we were first married, he was working for the county district attorney, but had clear intentions of moving into politics. First hand, I watched him transform from someone who was honest, and what you might call a stand-up guy, into a not-so-honest, conniving local politician. Perhaps it made me skeptical, but I knew better. So when he said we needed to discuss things, I knew good and well there wouldn’t be a discussion; worse, I knew he was on the verge of putting his own spin on what had happened so that I was in the wrong.

  Only when he stepped out of the doorway to move to the living room did I walk into the house.

  “Where were you?” he asked again.

  “I went for a drive.”

  “Yes. You did, and Scott mentioned not only that you turned around at the gate late last night, well really, early this morning, but he said you were not driving. Who was driving you, Jane?”

  I couldn’t say “Beast”. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Trent knowing about him, though there was that, but I didn’t want to refer to him as Beast. Heck, even if I’d known Beast’s first name, I’m not sure I would be willing to drag him into this crap. “I went to Andrea’s, and Jim drove me home, because Andi couldn’t and he didn’t want me driving.”

  Trent’s tongue worked around his lower jaw, poking the skin of his cheeks out in the process. “And just how was he going to get home from here, pray tell?”

  Could he be more pretentious? “Uber. One of his MC brothers. I don’t know, Trent. You pissed me off, and good, so I wasn’t entirely with it.”

  Frankly, I had to wonder what Beast was thinking when he guided my Beemer to the country club. How had he been planning to get back, himself?

  Trent pulled me back to the present with his next question. “And he turned around at the gate, why?”

  “It didn’t feel safe, and frankly, even in my state, I didn’t feel safe either. Why were people being turned away from the automatic gate? I suppose you had something to do with that since Scott reported back to you.”

  Trent shook his head, not one follicle of hair moving as he did so. “That doesn’t matter. I don’t believe your explanation, but I forgive you anyway.”

  I did not hear him right. “You asshat! You try to rape me last night, and now you stand there telling me you forgive me?”

  “I did not–”

  “You were forcing yourself on me until I got the hell out of bed. Don’t tell me what you freaking did not do. No means no, Trent Palmer. Or is this a new hole in your platform I didn’t know about?”

  I shouldn’t have mentioned his platform. The nice-guy façade melted and he leaned toward me. “There are no holes in my platform.”

  “So, it wasn’t you who told me to get rid of my baby when I was eight weeks pregnant?”

  “You miscarried, so that’s a non-starter.”

  At the word ‘non-starter,’ my lip curled in disgust. “I miscarried because of you and your inability to support your wife. Your constant yelling at me about going and getting pregnant. You participated in that just as much as me, if not more so, since you wouldn’t freaking listen.”

  Trent smiled a nasty grin at me. “Abstinence is the only foolproof form of birth control. We’re married, you miscarried, it’s life. What it is not is grounds for a divorce.”

  I turned slightly so I’d be in a better position to leave the room. “You wouldn’t know about this, but once a woman’s pregnant —be that pregnancy planned or not— it changes her. And my pregnancy damn well changed me, and it changed my mind about children.”

  The grin faded and his features smoothed, but I knew this was his game face. “We can work through that, Jane. Figure out a timeline on when to expand our family.”

  My every instinct was to fly off the rails verbally, but my lawyer had warned me. If I was going to stay in our family home, it was in my best interest to keep things as amicable as possible. Him talking about a child as if it were tantamount to building an addition to our house was infuriating. Timeline, my ass. That would all revolve around his political agenda, and to hell with my biological clock.

  I shrugged. “I’ll keep that in mind, Trent.”

  Then I went to the guest room and locked the door.

  Beast

  Nearly an hour after she left, Beast shrugged on a t-shirt, and couldn’t help but think of Janie asking him why he was doing ‘this.’ The fact was, he didn’t know. He had thought about putting a shirt on before knocking on her door with the keys, but knowing she couldn’t handle the sight of his bare back, there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to watch her up close when she got a load of his chest. It was satisfying seeing her eyes tracing his pecs and trying to examine his shoulders. Realizing she was scared of him made him happy and concerned in equal measures. There was no reason for her to be scared of any man. Yet, her being skittish around him made him happy because it was certain to be a good time.

  That thought was like a record scratching to a halt on the turntable. She was in the midst of a divorce. She was not ‘good time’ material, and on top of that, she was Andrea’s best friend. No way Liar would be cool with the two of them becoming...his mind was moving too fast. There was no ‘them’. Period. There was no room in his life for a woman. Brianne, and then Katherine, were both proof positive of that.

  He was getting too old for partying until after four in the morning. Though, had he been able to get laid last night, he probably would’ve slept long and hard, and found himself no worse for wear. It was just after two in the afternoon, and he laid down in his bed to take a nap. Rolling onto his side he caught a whiff of...Janie’s perfu
me. His dick twitched, and his mind filled with visions of her in his bed while Laura accused him of trying to spring a threesome on her.

  Fuck. No way would he be able to sleep with her scent on his sheets.

  Bucking off the bed, he tagged his boots and went to the common room. He saw two of the three prospects there and lifted his chin at them. “My room. Strip the sheets, wash ‘em on hot with plenty of Tide and include some bleach.”

  The two punk-looking prospects exchanged a look and then moved to the hall. shaking their heads. It infuriated him, but he knew that was a waste of his energy. He sat on the arm of a couch to put his boots on, then he pulled out his phone to call his lawyer, but remembered it was Sunday. That call would have to wait until tomorrow. Running a hand through his hair, he debated what to do next.

  Volt, the president of the Riot MC, sauntered through the front door. His hair was back, a shiny black doo-rag molded to his head. He lifted his chin at Beast. “Just who I’m lookin’ for.”

  “Me? What for?”

  With a jerk of his head toward the bar, Beast followed Volt there. When they settled, Volt said, “Before I approved your transfer, Har said you managed a nightclub in which the Biloxi chapter holds part ownership.”

  Now that he was fully settled into the fold with the Jacksonville brothers, he had wondered when he and Volt would have this conversation. While he wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t happy either. Truth was, he wanted out of Biloxi for a number of reasons, a woman first and foremost among them, but another was so he could get out of nightlife management. It had been fun, but sleeping during the day was not easily done. He was also thirty-one now and it was time to get back to some semblance of normality.

  “Yes, sir. I did, but with all due respect, I’m not looking to manage another nightclub. It was one of the things pushing me to leave Biloxi.”

  “I can respect that, believe me. I’d give my left nut to sleep through the night right about now. Jackie’s doin’ her best to get Simone to recognize day from night, but it’s a slow road.”

  Beast took in a deep breath and nodded at Volt. “So, what are we talking about here? Last I checked, this chapter doesn’t have a nightclub.”

  Volt shook his head. “You’re right, but you and Liar were out of town in December when we took a look at a strip club not far from here.”

  It took some effort to keep an open mind to this, but Beast was certain managing a strip club would be even worse than a run-of-the-mill nightclub.

  With a normal club, there was only one talent to be managed much of the time: the DJ or the live band performing. Each stripper likely considered herself to be the talent that brought the men into the place. He had little doubt that would be a headache he wasn’t ready for, and he had come to Jacksonville to keep the women in his life to a minimum, not so he would have to deal with half a dozen or more of them at once.

  Then there was security. Christ. Even the burliest of bouncers at the door would be challenged on a busy night. This did not bode well for him getting back to normal. He kept his expression neutral and took in a deep breath. “Okay. Are there plans to move forward with this...I’m assuming it’s an investment?”

  Volt shook his head as a prospect placed a glass with two fingers of Jack in front of him. “That was the original thought two months ago, but it’s gonna have to go before a vote at church. Looks more like we’ll be taking it over outright, if the club’s willing to pay their price.”

  The prospect pulled a Miller Lite out of the fridge and held it in front of Beast. He lifted his chin, and watched the prospect uncap the bottle. He wanted to fill the silence between him and Volt, but he took a pull on his beer instead.

  “You wouldn’t be alone in managing the place. Yak wants in, but he has no experience with this kind of thing. Turk’s been in charge of our bar and grill for several years now, but he’s looking for a change and something challenging.”

  Beast gave Volt a skeptical look. “It would be a challenge for a little while, but as far as it being a change from managing The Flat Iron, that change would be subtle at the end of the day.”

  “You sound sure of that, why?”

  He fought shrugging a shoulder. “Like a restaurant, you got waitstaff and you serve alcohol. Managing that isn’t going to be different in a strip club. Now, unlike the club’s bar and grill, he would have to deal with managing talent, which will be different than dealing with the occasional live band or trivia emcee. Also, the security aspect will be more extreme, or should be, if it isn’t already. But after he adjusts to those differences, it probably won’t seem like that much of a change at all. Though, all of those things together should prove to be more of a challenge.”

  Volt nodded with a small smile playing at his lips. “I believe I misspoke about Turk. The added challenge is likely the change he’s looking for here.”

  “Well, I imagine he’d get that in spades. So, where would I fit in with all of this?”

  “Assuming we vote to pull the trigger, my thought is that you would be very hands-on management for the first six months or so. After that, think more consultant. You would be day-side and only handling shit at night if you wanted to or needed to relieve Yak or Turk. Lot of this is contingent on price and negotiation, not to mention the vote, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested.”

  Beast looked down at his beer bottle, thinking about it. Then he looked back at Volt. “So long as it’s only six months for the hands-on aspect, I could be on board for that. I need the leeway to get to Biloxi. There’s some shit going on there. I’m hoping it won’t require me to haul ass back there, but Murphy and his law have never been good to me.”

  Volt downed his Jack and slapped Beast’s back. “You and me both, brother. You and me both.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Janie

  MY HUSBAND WAS NEVER good at letting someone else have the last word. So I wasn’t surprised when, not ten seconds after I locked the door, he knocked on it. “By the way, I disposed of...your device. You need that sort of satisfaction, you know where to find me.”

  I wanted to be outraged, but a voice inside me rhetorically asked if I was surprised. No, there was no way to find his behavior surprising. He was just this side of hypocrisy. By that, I meant that it was perfectly fine for him to get himself off while I menstruated, but Heaven forbid I take care of my own needs. I lay down, thinking about taking a nap, but couldn’t relax. All I could think about was how crazy all of this was. Mentally I started listing the things my lawyer had mentioned to me.

  It was better for me to be here, but I wouldn’t be deemed to have abandoned the house if I left.

  The problem was there were some things in the house I cared about, that I wanted to take with me. My legal team had told me if I cared about it, I needed to keep it close. Only, I couldn’t up and start hiding the things I cared about, like the gorgeous purple sectional sofa from Scan Design in the great room. Actually, we ordered a plain-Jane white sectional and I hired an interior designer to recover it in the most lush-feeling velvet fabric, the very shade of Welch’s grape jelly. There was a caramel-brown leather chair, also from Scan Design, which Trent balked at because he said, “It looks uncomfortable, and it’s ugly enough it would only be found on a college campus.” Little did he know how accurate he was. It looked identical to a chair from my college days, when I would hang with a buddy named Dillon, who practically resorted to fisticuffs in order to claim that chair. “It’s the most comfortable chair you’ll ever sit in, even if most people see it and think it’s ugly as sin,” he would tell me. When I forced Trent’s skinny ass to sit in the Scan Design version though, he was floored to find it was the most comfortable chair he’d ever sat in. Whether it made me petty or materialistic, our great room was the first time I exercised my own interior design skills and I wanted those pieces to come with me.

  Then there were the little things I knew I wouldn’t part with, and that I knew Trent would screw with for the sake of pettiness, such as Gram
pa Ramos’s framed Bob Marley poster which Bob himself had autographed. I wasn’t there when Gramps had it signed, but as many times as he told the story, it damn sure felt like I had been. I also wanted my jewelry, both costume and real. It took time to put together a decent collection of jewelry that went with your style of clothes and heck if I wanted my spouse to start chucking things willy-nilly. Truth be told, I wanted the fancy vibrator Trent threw away, but my buddy Monty had told me it was a “beginner” toy. Maybe this was the universe’s way of saying, “Time to step it up, woman.”

  Thinking through all of this, it became clear that I had no chance of staying holed up in the guest room. If I moved into the living room, it was a matter of time before Trent came out to play at being nice to me. ‘Play’ being the operative word.

  The stress and anxiety were building within me, and I decided to go for a drive. Again. But this time I wasn’t headed to see Andi. I knew where I was going and I was going to make it count.

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, I parked my car outside the small shop. I walked inside and Monty, my old friend from high school, grinned like a crazy man at me. He was standing near the register speaking to the short man who was working the till.

  When he made it to me on the far side of the counter, he demanded, “What brings me the pleasure of your beautiful face today, Janie-Jane?”

  The enthusiasm in his voice was infectious, and I smiled. “I have to replace the product I bought from you a few months ago.”

  His eyes lit, and I realized what I said didn’t quite sound right. Then his lips split into a humongous smile.

  “I knew it! I’ve created a monster.”

  “No, I’m married to a monster.”

  His smile turned wry. “But not for much longer, chickie.”

  With a soft tilt of my head and in a softer voice, I said, “No. Certainly not, seeing as he was served yesterday.”