I pull open the heavy doors to the clubhouse and immediately find myself embroiled in a thick fog of sticky-sweet smoke with loud music thumping heavily from high-hung speakers. Directly in front of me sits a pair of men with leather vests. They have a bottle of vodka between them and a couple of shot glasses. One of them has a joint in his hand that he brings to his lips and takes a hit. Is this what Grady wanted to keep from me? That they’re sitting around getting high?
The men don’t pay me any attention as I walk further into the room. I wish I hadn’t. One woman is on another’s lap and she’s not wearing a single stitch of clothing, not even a pair of socks. The man at the table with them has another woman on his lap, straddling him. Her hands work furiously in his lap. I easily imagine she’s got a hold of his dick. The further I get into the depths of the clubhouse and the more obscene it gets. It isn’t until I see a woman on her knees who is actually giving a blow job out in the open that I turn around. Familiar faces dot the scenery. Ryan is watching some chick rub her own nipples. He watches but never reaches out and touches her. It’s an interesting sight considering the reputation he earned for his sexual prowess in high school. I seem to remember rumors that he’d screw anything that moved, but then again, maybe she’s not his type these days.
Just as I turn around, I’m faced with a gorgeous woman, who is surprisingly, fully dressed. She has dark skin and long black hair with large dark brown eyes. She’s got light stone washed blue jeans and a black tank above high heeled black boots.
“You look out of place,” she says. I give her a moment to continue, but she doesn’t.
“Have you seen Grady?” I ask. She eyes me from head to toe before smiling softly.
“He’s around here somewhere,” she says and shrugs her shoulders. “But you shouldn’t be here.”
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Elle,” she says. Her stare turns flat, “And you’re Holly. Like I said, you shouldn’t be here. Go home and play house. The shit that goes on in this place is nothing Grady wants you to see.”
“I don’t know you, so please forgive me if I’m not too keen on taking orders from you,” I say. If Grady has some random woman telling me to get lost, I should assume that I shouldn’t be here. Not because I don’t need to know what he’s up to, but because if it’s bad enough to be warned away, it’s likely nothing I want to see anyway.
“Well, I know Grady,” she says. “Intimately.” Of course she does. Of-fucking-course she does. There’s a tirade going off in my head, but only one word that sticks out and repeats itself again and again until I’m consumed by it.
Whore.
“Is there a reason you’re telling me this?” Being a woman, I already know the reason. We’re territorial creatures and we don’t like to lose a man to another woman. The only thing I can’t figure out is if she lost Grady to me or if I’m losing him to her.
“Wow, you’re slow. Grady is a particular man. He likes his women separate from his club,” Elle says. Her eyes lift over my shoulder and a devious smirk spreads across her face. I sense his approach before I see him. Elle is far too pleased with herself for it to be anybody else. I pull in a deep breath and do the best I can to stay strong in the face of this stupid drama of my own making.
“Hey,” he says from behind me. I turn around and come face to face with not only Grady, but four other club members as well. Ian, the guy who was with him when he rescued Mindy and I from that seawall is there, standing to his left. To his right is a huge bulking man with shoulder-length light brown hair, a strong brow, and a full beard. His leather vest has a patch that reads, V. PRESIDENT. Behind him and off to the side is a man with a shaved head and off to the other side is Josh Wilcox.
The smile on Grady’s face nearly splits in two as he lunges forward, wraps me in his arms and pulls me tight against him. Everything around me fades away and it’s just he and I. Elle, a woman who I don’t even know but surely dislike already, isn’t behind me. The loud music fades away as I bury my face in his neck. Breathing in the mixed scent of his sweat and the whiskey he’s obviously been drinking. I love this man, but he’s kind of a grouch. The only times I’ve seen him this happy are when he’s either three sheets to the wind or he’s scaring the crap out of Jeremy. Even when his muscles tense and he’s losing himself inside of me, he doesn’t look this happy.
“What are you doing here?” he says as he pulls back and cups my face with his hands. His warm, whiskey-laden breath washes over my face. His eyes are slightly unfocused and that stupid grin is still on his face. I give him a small smile in return. It's the best that I can manage right now.
"Can we talk?"