by SL Schiefer
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” I shrug as I begin to pace aimlessly.
“You just seem off. What’d the cops say? And why the hell did Mace send his friends here after kicking us out of his club? What did I miss? Shit, spill!”
I walk back over to her, parking my ass right next to hers, and tell her everything that’s happened since pole dancing class this morning.
***
“You almost ready?” I yell from the kitchen as I type in the address Jake texted to me earlier for his bonfire tonight. Jake, as in the hottie Mace was all bent out of shape about. Jazz convinced me to text him after I broke everything down for her this afternoon. She made some very valid points. I’m young. I’m single. My vagina is lonely. I’m lonely. I’m out of practice. I belong to no one. He’s hot. He was nice. The only con was that Mace didn’t approve. But really—why does that matter? I don’t even really know Mace.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep your panties on, hooker! I’m ready.” She enters the room while clasping the back of her hoop earring on.
I take in her ensemble from her overly done curls, to her tight, red halter top with too much cleavage. Her short, light denim miniskirt fraying at the bottom, to her knee high black leather boots. “Dude,” I shake my head. “You’re calling me a hooker?” I laugh.
“What? I could meet my future husband tonight.” She winks.
“Jazz, you do realize we’re going to a bonfire, right? Laid back, low key sorta thing. It’s not a fucking club.”
“Yeah. I know.” She smiles.
“You’re such a whore.” I roll my eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong with showing some skin, Rave.”
“There’s also nothing wrong with leaving a little to the imagination, either, Jazz.”
“Whatever. You wear your tight-ass jeans and plain white tank. I’ll wear what I want to wear. Deal?”
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s roll.”
“Is it weird I have a bad feeling about this?” I blurt out while following the directions being spouted from the GPS.
“You’re only saying that because that stupid thing said we’re almost there. And because you’re a pussy. Live a little!” she nearly yells, shoving my arm playfully.
I don’t say anything, I just roll my eyes in response. Maybe she’s right. Or maybe… maybe Mace was right, and this could be a bad idea.
“Take first right in five hundred feet,” the GPS directs. We’ve been driving for about a half hour or so and have been out of the city for about twenty. When I look to the right, I can see the glow from the fire a bit down the road. As I drive further down after taking our turn, all I see are a shit ton of bikes. Beautiful fucking machinery. It’s like a damn dream.
“Close your damn mouth, Rave. They’re just bikes,” Jazz teases.
“Uh uh. No such thing as just bikes. You just don’t get it. How the hell are we still friends?” I joke.
“Easy. Your life would be boring without me in it, and I’d probably be in jail, prison, or dead without you being my conscience.”
“True,” I agree as I nod my head.
I park a bit away from everyone else to help avoid drunks touching my car. Whether it’s incidental or not. Doesn’t matter. Nobody touches Kate. “Ready?” I pull the keys from the ignition and reach for the door handle.
“I was born ready, baby!” she laughs.
“God, you’re so weird,” I mumble.
As we walk closer to the large crowd of bodies, I can see I’m completely overdressed. All of the chicks are wearing next to nothing. Well, I spotted a few who literally were wearing nothing, but I forced myself to look away. It’s not the first time I’ve been to a party where things got a bit crazy. But shit, Jazz is dressed as a nun tonight compared to the chicks here. But the men? Holy hell. Most of them are cut, dressed in denim and leather. All with a hint, if not an abundance, of danger written all of them.
“Hey. Wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” I hear the deep tone of Jake’s voice from behind me right before I feel is warm, calloused hand grasp my elbow gently.
I turn my head around in his direction and smile. God, he’s gorgeous. “Well, I made it.”
“I’m glad,” he says, cocking his head slightly to the side as his eyes rake over my body.
“This is my best friend, Jazz. Jazz, Jake.”
“How’s it going?” He tips his chin in her direction.
“Damn, Rave! You weren’t joking,” she says, nudging my arm with her elbow. I can feel my cheeks heat instantaneously. Instead of trying to cover my ass, I’ve learned that sometimes, a subject change is so much better.
“So is there anything to drink around here?” I smile.
“Sure. What’s your poison tonight, ladies?” Jake grins as two men flank his back. He positions himself between Jazz and me, draping his arms around our shoulders as he leads us into what looks like an old warehouse.
“I’m not picky,” I shrug. “I’m cool with a cold beer.”
“She may not be picky, but I prefer something a bit stronger,” Jazz cuts in.
“I’m sure we have something here you’ll both approve of,” Jake says with a smirk.
As we cross the threshold, I can see the place is decked out with a bar, a huge projection screen, couches, table tennis, a pool table, and several doors which are closed. It’s almost like a huge-ass rec room. People are littered everywhere, playing some sort of game or another. A few guys have taken over the bar playing quarters.
“Ooo! Quarters! Can I play?” Jazz asks excitedly as she steps over to them.
“Honey, you can play with us anytime you want,” I hear one of them say as the others laugh.
“Here,” Jake digs in his front pocket for a quarter and passes it to Jazz. “Good luck. These guys are good. That’s why not many will play with them.”
“I’ll take my chances.” She winks before turning back and bouncing her quarter, missing the glass by a mile. I can’t help but snort; it was a horrible attempt.
“What? You think you can do better?” Jazz sneers.
“Haven’t I creamed your ass every time we’ve played?” I tease.
“Here you go, hot cheeks,” one of the guys standing behind Jake says as he slips a quarter in my hand.
I turn around, smile at him, and ask, “Hot cheeks? Really? That’s the best you got?”
“Honey, your ass in those jeans…” he licks his lips. “I’m only thinking with one brain right now.”
“Oh, good God.” I roll my eyes at the corniness of the shit he just spewed. Turning back around, I eye up the glass hanging out on the bar top. I line my quarter up, bounce it, and watch it swoosh in without even the noise of a clink.
“Told ya,” I shrug.
“You’re such a bitch,” Jazz fires back.
Nodding my head, “That may be so, but I still do believe it’s your shot to chug.” The guys start whistling and hollering while Jazz presses the mystery liquid to her lips and throws it back. As soon as she swallows, I watch her face transform as if she just sucked on a lemonhead.
“Oh my fucking God. What in the fuck was that? It burns!” she yells as she coughs.
“Everclear, darling. Everclear,” the man standing behind the bar says as he refills the glass.
“Holy shit, Jazz. You’re going to be knocked on your ass in no time!” I laugh.
***
I don’t know how long Jazz and I have been here. I don’t even know how much we both have had to drink. Sometimes it’s hard to keep track when you’re having fun. Between shots from playing quarters and drinks while dancing to the music blaring outside, I’ve lost count. I’ve also lost Jazz. But Jake seems pretty cool.
“So what’s up with the guy you were with earlier today? You his or what?” Jake asks as we sit on top of one of the picnic tables outside.
“Am I his?” I repeat. “Hell no. I’m no one’s. Nor will I ever be,” I say with a slight slur to my words. I stopped drinking a bit ago, knowing I’ll h
ave to drive home. So instead, I’ve been nursing a bottle of water. It just doesn’t taste as good.
“So does that mean you’re free to hang out again?” he asks, his strong arms finding their way around my back. The air has cooled off since we arrived, so the heat from his skin is welcomed. When I turn my head to look at him, our heads are mere breaths apart. My mouth parts slightly as I try to figure out if I want to make a move or not. I do, but something just doesn’t feel right. Before I have too much time to overanalyze everything, I feel the softness of his lips pressed against mine. He takes me in a rough, sloppy kiss. You know, the kind where they start off gently just to tease you and then ram their damn tongue down your throat? Like, literally, down your fucking throat. Yep. That’s Jake’s kissing style.
I can’t help but let my mind drift back to when Mace kissed me earlier. God, how I wish it was Mace with me right now.
“Yo, Slug!” I hear someone yell as the sound of boots on gravel comes closer. “Slug!”
Jake breaks our kiss and turns to look at the stumbling idiot standing before us. “What?” he roars, the temperament in his words unnecessary. It’s not like we’re doing anything important. Or as if it was out of this world.
“Viper needs to talk to you, man,” he says less enthusiastically, holding his palms up in the air.
“Dammit! I’ll be right back,” he mumbles as he pushes himself up and walks away. Dude standing in front of me turns his eyes on me and starts to smirk.
“What the fuck you lookin’ at?” I spit, standing up, and brushing my ass off with the palm of my hand.
“What I’m going to be strippin’ in just a few minutes,” he tells me, licking his lips.
“In your fucking dreams.” I brush past him, leaving him to whistle at me as I flip him the bird and walk back into what I found out is referred to as a ‘clubhouse’. Weird. I thought ‘clubhouses’ were for kids. Apparently, if you have a motorcycle and some leather, you’re deemed qualified to start one all over again.
I find Jazz on the couch, trashed, in the far back corner with two men pawing all over her. Her tits are hanging out on full display and one of their hands are creeping under her skirt. Oh, hell no! No one touches my girl without her permission. And she’s too fucking fucked to give it right now. I stomp over there like a fire is chasing my ass before roaring, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Quickly, Jackass Number One stands and starts to snarl at me. “You wanting to join?”
“You’re shitting me, right? Your breath smells like vomit, and you’re too skinny to be my type,” I throw back at him. “And if you touch my friend again, I’m going to cut your dick off and shove it so far up your ass, you’ll be giving yourself a mother fucking blowjob.”
I look over at Jackass Number Two as he starts cackling like a hyena. The next thing I know, a fist connects with my left cheek bone. Pain shoots through my jaw, nose, eye, and cheek. I feel like someone just hit me with a fucking flamethrower. I groan out as my hands come up to cover where the asshole just punched me. Holy fucking shit! “God dammit!”
“You’re all just a bunch of fucking club sluts, bitch! You bitches do what we say, or you can get the fuck out of our house!” Jackass Number One shouts.
Looking up at him through my right eye, and blurry left, I see a gun in his waistband. Instantly, I know I’m completely out of my element. I force myself to stand up and brush past both jackasses. I grab Jazz by both arms and pull her up into a standing position, draping her arm around my shoulders, bracing most of her weight.
“Raavve,” she slurs sleepily, her feet practically dragging behind her.
“Yeah, babe. I’m taking you home,” I promise.
I look up at the asshole who is glaring down at me as if he’d like to do nothing better than hit me again. Has he seriously never been rejected before? “We aren’t club sluts. And you definitely aren’t our type, so fuck off. We’re leaving.”
“Forget you, bitch! Lola! Get your skanky ass over here and suck my dick!” he yells out to someone before dropping back down on the couch, unzipping his pants.
I don’t wait to see what happens next. I don’t wait for Jake to come back. In fact, I don’t wait for anything. I focus on getting my best friend home safely. Both of us in once piece.
Chapter Twelve – Mace
THINGS HAVE HAPPENED so quickly the past couple days. After finding Jayla outside the clubhouse, we went into lockdown, for obvious reasons. Carver has had a rough couple days. He punched the guy from the funeral home, so he let a couple of the other ol’ ladies Jayla was friends with plan everything.
Not that we need the funeral people for more than just the casket, but we will have a huge memorial back at the clubhouse after the actual funeral. We’ll talk about memories we have of her at the graveside, and she’ll be buried on club property. As with all of our brothers and their ol’ ladies who’ve passed—it’s tradition.
I’m walking out of my room at the clubhouse when a beep from my back pocket alerts me to a text message. I pull my phone out and see Tank’s name on my display. Swiping at my screen as I walk down the steps, I see a message that makes me groan. A message I really don’t want to deal with right now.
It appears as if Raven has made her way back to the club, but this time she’s in search of me. Tank says she’s currently sitting at the bar with a beer.
Snarling at my phone, I put it back in my pocket and grudgingly stalk toward the bar situated on the main floor of the clubhouse, in search of Creep. With us being on lockdown there are bodies everywhere. We don’t normally have this many people here, but with what happened I don’t want to take any risks. We got club sluts and ol’ ladies under the same roof. That right there is enough to make a guy want to take his own life.
Finally seeing Creep, I make my way over to him and see he’s sitting on a bar stool with a slut on his lap and one plastered to his side.
“Man, I have something I need to take care of down at the club. You gonna be okay here?” I eye the two blondes, both of them dressed in next to nothing. And both of them not shy about my perusal of them. Sluts.
“Yup, I got this. You alright going by yourself? Or you need backup?” He frees one of his hands and slides it up the inside of the thigh of the girl who’s on his lap. Yeah, I don’t want to interrupt the poor guy from getting some. Not that it’s ever been a problem for him.
“Nah, I’m good.” I turn away from him and head outside. I got my bike back the night Raven ran from me. There is no feeling greater than riding on a bike, my tires eating up the miles as I drive.
***
Even though it’s the middle of the day, the club is already packed when I walk in. I stop just inside the back entrance to let my eyes adjust to the lack of bright lights. I follow the winding hallway to the main club, forgoing checking on the back. Walking onto the main floor, even though there is no DJ this early, the club is still alive with music.
The bass of the music is like a heartbeat, especially to a place like this. It’s almost as if the club is alive in a way that doesn’t exist outside of these walls. Each thump of the bass is like the paddles that keep our hearts alive, each note of the music is like the blood flowing through our veins. Giving us life. Giving us purpose. Even for just one night, giving us meaning.
I casually stroll over to the bar, walking up behind Raven. Her dark hair is cascading down her back and I can’t help but smile, thinking about the time I had it wrapped around my hand. I ache to sink my hand back into those locks. My dick aches to sink into her wet cunt.
“Angel, we have to stop meeting like this.” I sit down on the stool next to her. She keeps her eyes down, looking at the cup she’s spinning on the bar top, almost as if she’s hiding behind her hair which has formed a curtain around her face.
I reach out to move her hair away from her face and she flinches. What the fuck? “What’s wrong, Raven?” My voice comes out harsher than I intend, but I’ve never done anything to make her
flinch.
“What do you do?” Her voice is stronger than she appears.
“What do you mean? I own this club.” I look at her, confusion more than clear on my face.
“What do you do besides own this club? Are you into illegal shit? How do you know Jake? And how the hell do you know I need to stay away from him?” Her voice raises with each sentence, anger marring her beautiful face when she says Jake’s name. And after she says all that, she finally turns to face me. A large, purple bruise is covering the side of her face she kept away from me. Until she wanted me to see. To gauge my reaction? I don’t know.
All I know, is whoever laid a fucking finger on her is going to die. A very slow and painful death.
“Tell me what happened! Right now! Wait! Let’s go to my office.” I hop off the stool but stand and reach over the bar to grab a bottle of Jack to bring with me—minus the shot glass. Grabbing her drink, I hold my arm out, gesturing for her to follow me.
When we make it to my office, I usher her inside and slam the door behind me. “Tell me. Now.”
“Let me start by saying I don’t owe you a God damned thing. I don’t answer to you, and you telling me not to do something makes me want to do it even more. So forgive me for living my life, but I went to Jake’s for a bonfire a few nights ago.”
Pure red rage clouds my vision. “Did. He. Touch. You?” I’m out of my chair and pacing behind my desk while she sits there, almost proud of her stupid as fuck decisions to put herself in harm’s way.
“No, he didn’t. Someone in his club thing decided feeling up on Jazz was a great idea. And when I tried to stop him, he punched me.”
“No name?” I’m leaning against my desk, trying to contain my anger, but all I’m doing is shaking.
“No, I don’t remember his name.”
“I’ll find out. He will not getting away with touching what’s mine!”
“Excuse me? Yours? Did you somehow miss the memo that I belong to no one, especially not to thugs who can’t answer simple fucking questions?”
“You want to know what I do? I keep an entire club of brothers and their ol’ ladies safe, I get women off the street and in here to work to keep them safe, and I protect what’s mine!”
