Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  The bar starts to fill in with a huge crowd. The upcoming spring weddings are bringing in the wild bachelor parties, and this Friday is no exception. The guys in the party aren’t very much younger than me, but I can’t help but feel that I’m a lot more mature than them. They look as if they’ve never had to care about anything more than getting good grades and keeping their parents happy. Heck, they make me feel downright ancient.

  I shake away that stupid nostalgic feeling about the carefree youth that could have been mine if a drunk driver hadn’t killed my father. No use dreaming about what might have been. I don’t regret a single day I spent taking care of Lisa nor my time in the Army with Brian.

  The Rawhide theme that announces the beginning of Sally’s cowgirl routine derails my train of thoughts. I watch the crowd while she does her number. The young guys are more vocal but much rowdier than our usual clients. That may change at any time because they’re downing shots as if drinking’s going out of style. Sally gets a lot of “yeehaws,” but the kids are behaving.

  Slider’s standing close to one side of the stage. His gaze flies from Sally to the young men, and every single time one of them slips her a bill, he cringes. She ends her number with a flourish of applause and cat calls. Sally bows low, which makes her breast jiggle in a cute way, and when she stands back up, she blows Slider a kiss. His face remains neutral, but I can almost feel his relief as she vanishes from the stage.

  It must be really hard to watch the woman you have the hots for get undressed in front of a bunch of other guys. It takes me about one minute to understand that “hard” doesn’t even begin to describe it. Fuck, it’s pure hell!

  My hands clench into fists as Mimi steps on stage. It takes all my willpower not to thrash through the crowd, cover her up, and take her backstage. Her number starts slow. Mimi steps toward the pole, dressed in white. It’s a Sunday-best white dress with lace, somewhere between an old-fashioned first communion dress and a bridal dress. Everything about her screams that she’s pure and innocent.

  Her eyes are cast down and her hands joined in front of her. There’s no music. What’s playing is some sort of outdoor sound track—a river and birds and maybe wind in the branches—but then the music hits, and it’s hard metal. She tears away the dress and reveals a light pink corset, white stockings, and a garter belt. She wraps herself around the pole and dances in such a lascivious way that I want to take an ax to that stupid pole.

  By the time she starts untying her corset, I’m hard as a rock, and I have to look away. I take a few deep breaths and remember that the whole point of me being there is to make sure the talent is safe. I force myself to look back at the stage. Mimi is strutting around the podium, crouching in front of the group of young men, and I only realize how clenched my jaw is when I catch Slider’s gaze. He still standing on the other side of the podium, and he’s observing me with an ironic expression. Yeah, right. Now I get it. I won’t make fun of him anymore.

  When Mimi’s done with her number, I realize that if his classes are as good as he says, I desperately need to take some of Brian’s Dom training courses. I’m going to need all the self-control I can muster and then some if I have to watch Mimi do that every single night and twice on Saturdays.

  ***

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Saturday night is worse than Friday night, but I get to let out some steam because the Bush Fire has two bachelor parties, and they go a bit crazy. Punching one nasty, aggressive, entitled drunk makes me feel a lot better.

  Mimi finishes her last round at midnight, and Slider lets her go. It’s pouring out, and the crowd is thinning. I check that Slider is by the bar before I walk her to her car. She’s swapped her fuck-me pumps for plastic boots, and I still think she looks hot as hell!

  I carry a very large umbrella in one hand, and under the pretense of making sure she doesn’t slide on the muddy asphalt, I hold her waist until we reach her car. She doesn’t pull away. She even leans into me a couple of time, and her curves feel just right molding against my side.

  She opens the driver’s door under the protection of the umbrella and turns to face me. Mimi’s a little smaller than me in flats and has to tilt her face to look me in the eyes. “I owe you an apology.”

  I simply blink and wait for her to elaborate.

  “The girls told me you were great with Toussaint,” she says.

  I smile. “I like your nephew. He’s a good kid.”

  “They also say you actually tried to help Josette.”

  I nod.

  “You chased away some of her pushers?”

  I nod again.

  “And you weren’t even sleeping with her.” The end of the phrase is somewhere between a question and an affirmation, and her voice is almost a whisper.

  I lose myself in her chocolate-brown eyes and answer her indirect question.

  “No, I think a woman should have a lot of flesh on her bones.” I slowly cradle her face and caress her lower lip with my thumb. “I was never interested in your sister. But I really like you. I find you much more…” I shake my head because I’m afraid to scare her away. “You’re the most beautiful and desirable woman I’ve ever met.”

  She lowers her eyes as if she’s embarrassed by my confession, or to ponder what to do next, then stands on her toes to kiss me. She aims for my cheek, but I see her coming, and I slide my hand to her neck while I tilt my face. Her lips land on mine, and they’re softer than I imagined. I nibble on her lip, and her mouth opens as she welcomes me in. She’s so sweet that I curse the rain. She shivers, and I want to pull her against me to give her my warmth, but I’m holding this stupid umbrella. As if reading my mind, she leans against me, fisting my T-shirt and sliding her other hand under my leather jacket.

  I step backward, and with my back on the side of the car, I nudge the umbrella between the roof and the open door of her car. My hands reach for her butt. I pull her legs up, and she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. She’s all but grinding against me, and if she keeps this up, I’m gonna come in my pants! I slide one hand under her T-shirt and free one breast from her bra.

  Some drunken voice yells, “Get a room.”

  Before I have time to react, Mimi lets go and slides into her car. She’s flustered and so pretty that I don’t want to let her go. I want to drag her back inside and borrow the bastards’ playroom. But she deserves better than a quickie between two doors. So I raise the handle of the umbrella and lean over to brush her lips with mine.

  She smiles, starts her car, and says “Good night, David.”

  She closes the car door, and I watch her pull away with a stupid grin on my face. Yeah, she likes me! I wish I had someone to high five. I miss Lisa and Brian. Slider’s okay, but he keeps his cards much too close to the vest. Poor guy—that must have become second nature with his undercover assignment.

  After she’s done her last tour, I walk Suzy to her car. Then I patiently wait for a possible new blonde to do her number for what’s left of the Saturday-night crowd. She’s pretty good actually. She manages to perk up the interest of some old-timers who usually have the attention span of a goldfish. When she’s done, she follows Slider upstairs.

  It’s time for Sally to go home.

  “He’s with her?” Sally asks when we reach her car.

  I raise an eyebrow because I’m not sure what she’s asking.

  “The blond bitch, the one he’s auditioning as a replacement for Kitten,” she says, sounding exasperated. “That’s his ex. She’s trying to get him back.”

  “I think you’re pretty safe. As far as I can tell, the man’s nuts about you. Every time you go on stage, he grinds his teeth so hard I’m afraid he’s gonna break his jaw!”

  The sad look vanishes from her face, and she smiles as though I’ve just made her day. She gets settled in her car and pulls on my jacket to make me lean over. When I do, she gives me a kiss, a light brush on the corner of the lips.

  “You’re a sweet man, David,” she
says before pushing me out of the way of the car door. “If I was a smart woman, I would go after you.”

  “And if you weren’t spoken for, I’d let you, sweetheart!”

  My answer makes her laughs as she closes the door.

  If I were a smart man, I would go after her. Hooking up with Sally would be less complicated than going after Mimi, but what do I know about her anyway? Maybe Sally’s saddled with worse than a junkie sister and a kid nephew. When I walk back into the club, Slider’s standing by the door and looks at me funny.

  “What was that about?” he asks.

  “That was Sally thanking me for telling her not to worry about your ex applying for the job,” I say lightly.

  Slider frowns. “How did she find out?” he mutters more to himself.

  Women talk. I want to say that, but he knows it better than I do.

  A few hours later, I’m happy they do. At nine in the morning, my phone rings and jolts me awake. There’s a young boy in me who has yet to deal with his fear of middle-of-the-night calls. His fears aren’t unreasonable. Those calls never bring good news. I break out in a cold sweat before I realize it’s not the middle of the night for people on a normal schedule.

  “Yes,” I grumble, trying to sound civilized.

  “David, it’s Pat.”

  My mind is absolutely blank, then I remember. Patricia, the nurse, the hospital. “Josette?” I ask.

  “Yes, about an hour ago. Her sister’s a wreck,” she says apologetically. “The kid gave me your number. He said you had told him to call if he ever needed you.”

  “You did good, Patricia. Thank you for calling. I’ll be right over.”

  She gives me the room number and tells me they’ll wait for me before they take Josette down to the morgue.

  On the drive there, my heart goes out to both of them. What a wreck I would be if I lost Lisa or Brian. And Toussaint, I never got around to asking about his father. At least he has Mimi. How weird it will be for him to live with the reminder of what his mother could have been if she hadn’t been a junkie. Probably as weird as it is for me to look at my uncle Anthony and know what my father would look like if he were alive.

  That’s when it dawns on me. How weird is it for my mother to live next door to Uncle Tony? What does she thinks every time she sees him? Does she ever imagine he’s Dad? Does she ever feel jealous of Nancy? I feel like an insensitive jerk for never having thought about this before.

  The sky is grey. There’s thunder and lightning but no rain. The air is charged with electricity. Fireworks to welcome Josette to the next world.

  ***

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Two men with a gurney are standing by the door of the hospital room when I arrive.

  “Give me a few minutes,” I tell them.

  They nod silently. What a sorry job they have.

  I knock on the open door before I enter. It’s a double room, but the other bed is empty. The hospital staff must have moved the other patient. Mimi is sitting on one side of her sister’s bed, holding her hand. She’s talking to Josette in Créole. The words don’t mean anything to me, but her tone is desperate, as if Mimi is begging for forgiveness. She talks fast. Is she telling Josette all the things she never had the chance to say when she was still alive?

  Josette wasn’t an easy person to talk to. On good days, she was high as a kite and unable to comprehend what anyone said. On bad days, she was down in the dumps and wouldn’t listen to anyone.

  Toussaint kneels on a chair on the other side of the bed, his head on his mother’s tummy and his arms around her waist. He opens his puffy eyes when he hears me come in, but he doesn’t move. I put my hand on Mimi’s shoulder and startle her. She hadn’t heard me come in.

  “She’s gone.” Her face is covered with tears.

  I stand behind her with a hand on each of her shoulders.

  “She looks so peaceful now,” Mimi says, and she’s right.

  Death has wiped away the tension from Josette’s face, and she looks rested, skeletal but almost carefree. I nod, which is stupid since Mimi can’t see me.

  “Do you believe in heaven, David?” she asks me, putting one of her hands on mine.

  I entwine our fingers and consider lying to her to make her feel better, but I decide against it. “I’m not big on faith. But you can find comfort in the fact that she’s no longer in pain.” Despite the fact that I mean it, my words sound hollow, even to me.

  We remain there immobile for a couple of minutes. I want to give Mimi some of my strength to make it through today. I want to be with her tomorrow too and the day after that as well.

  One of the men at the door steps in to get my attention.

  Still holding Mimi’s hand, I crouch next to her and whisper, “I think it’s time to go.”

  She shakes her head and seems unable to get up.

  Toussaint stirs. There’s a strong resolve on his face. He gets down from his chair and stands by the head of the bed. Tears pour down his face as he kisses his mother’s cheek. “Adieu, Manman.” He walks around the bed, and I make space for him as he comes to Mimi’s side. Toussaint pries Mimi’s hand away from his mother and puts it to his chest. “Ale, Mimi.”

  I pick her handbag up from the floor, and the three of us walk out of the room while the men come in to take away the corpse. I hug Mimi and Toussaint, keeping their faces against my chest while I watch Josette’s body being put in a body bag. She’s so light that they lift her onto the gurney with no effort. Only when they wheel her away do I let go of them.

  “I’ll take you home now,” I say.

  Mimi’s car keys are dangling from the side of her bag on a lanyard. We walk to her car in slow motion.

  “No,” Mimi says, “I need to go to the funeral home.”

  “You want the one next to the hospital?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “My church.”

  I get behind the wheel, and I’m surprised I don’t have to adjust the seat much. I love that she’s tall.

  We arrive just before the noon service to a full church. Toussaint and I stay in the back while Mimi walks toward the altar to talk to someone. I’ve never felt so pale in my entire life. My dirty blond hair, brown eyes, and a healthy tan probably don’t stand out as much as I feel they do. I get a few curious glances, but no one seems hostile. Toussaint takes my hand. I don’t know if he senses my discomfort or if he needs my support, but I gladly hold his hand. He gives me a sad smile and squeezes my fingers a little. I smile back.

  Mimi returns shortly and motions us to follow her out as the service starts. “The funeral will be at five tomorrow.” She looks more composed.

  “Here?” I ask.

  She shakes her head and moves toward her car. Toussaint and I just stand there, looking at her walk away.

  Realizing we’re not following, she turns around. “What are you doing? Come on, hurry. There are things to be done, and we have to drive back to the hospital.” I raise an eyebrow, and she says, “I suppose your bike is still there, no? You really don’t want to leave it in their parking lot all day.”

  She probably has a point, but I feel hurt, as if she’s dismissing me. She lets me drive them to the hospital. Toussaint is silent in the backseat, lost in his thoughts.

  When we arrive, I turn around and tell him, “Good-bye buddy.” He slides between the two front seats to hug me, and I hug him back while saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Mimi’s already gotten out of the car and come around to stand by the driver’s side. She’s standing right in front of me, and I badly want to hug her, but this isn’t the right time.

  Or maybe it is. There’s a flame in her eyes when she looks at me. She catches my face in her hands, and the gesture is so tender, it melts my heart.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I put my hands on her back and pull her to me. Her breasts crash against my chest, and I’m about to put my lips on her forehead in a chaste kiss when she tilts up her head. When our lips meet ag
ain, I pull her in a little closer but let her decide where she wants the kiss to go. The tip of her tongue wets my lips. That’s all the permission I need. My hand catches her waist, and I drink her in. Her hips hit mine. She cannot doubt for one second how aroused I am.

  She threads her fingers into my hair, and I feel like a dirty bastard. She’s in pain, and all I want to do is worship her body. Maybe it would be good for her. I could make her forget everything, become the center of her universe. I could make her so hot and needy that she’d surrender herself to me. I could make her scream my name so loud—then I remember Toussaint in the backseat.

  I peel myself away from her, and the regret in my tone is unmistakable when I whisper, “Toussaint.”

  She shakes her head as if waking from a dream and nods. “You’re right. I should know better. I’m a mother now.”

  “You’re going to make a great mother.” I would never say it, but I’m convinced that Josette’s passing is probably the first lucky break the kid has caught so far. “If you need anything—”

  “I need time alone with Toussaint, with my son,” she says, getting into the car. “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow then.”

  ***

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Monday at five, the crew of the Bush Fire is present in the little church. The strippers are in their Sunday best. Sally arrives on the back of Slider’s bike. She’s wearing black pants and a very modest black T-shirt. No cleavage, no makeup, and she doesn’t look a day over twenty.

  Suzy, on the other hand, is a lot older than I anticipated. She’s in her forties maybe. Not that that’s old per se, but for a stripper, it is. Kim comes to the funeral with Vic. She’s dressed in white, and I remember that white is the color of mourning in China.