CHAPTER 10
December
16 months to Mancuso’s downfall
Walking into the clubhouse in this outfit makes my palms sweat and my breath catch. I shouldn’t be here and especially not dressed like this. If Dad catches sight of me, not only will I be embarrassed that I’m treated like a child, but I’ll never get over Dad seeing me in these clothes. Even though it’s almost officially January and cold and wet outside, Tracie convinced me to wear a pair of my cut-off jean shorts with one of Holly’s numerous pairs of high-heeled leather boots. I have my black-and-hot-pink plaid shirt that I wore on my and Jeremy’s one and only date rolled up and knotted atop a tight tank that shows a few inches of my midriff and is cut low at my breasts, showing off some cleavage. My thick brown hair is down and teased, held in place with half a pound of hairspray.
High heels suck. They are so uncomfortable, but at least I look taller and hopefully more mature, too. Between the heavy black eye makeup and the dark red lipstick, I’m hoping it’s not as easy to recognize me. While Dad is Public Enemy Number One, I wouldn’t put it past any of my uncles or the other club members to make this situation really suck for me. Thankfully this place is crowded, and just like Tracie said, it’s too dark in here to really shine a spotlight on anyone. Rink gave me a little crap at the gate, but I promised I’d bake him some cookies the next time he was at the house, and he let us go with the warning that I’d pay for it if Dad finds out and reams him for not ratting on us. I don’t know where the nickname came from, but Greg’s nickname should be Oink or something rather than Rink. He’s got a worse sweet tooth than anyone I’ve ever met.
I’ve never really seen the clubhouse like this. The lights are low, smoke fills the room, suffocating me the first few minutes until my lungs adjust, and the temperature is higher than I expected. Pulling at the knot of my button-up, I squirm under the heat of the other bodies in the room.
“Take it off if it’s that uncomfortable,” Tracie says, catching my movements. She threw on a pair of tight jeans and some hot pink pleather heels she had stored in her trunk—especially for this occasion apparently—with a low-cut pink tank. She’s pushed her boobs up in her bra as far as she can without her nipples falling out.
“I can’t,” I say a little louder and with more fear in my voice than I should have. I know I’m being a baby, but my tank top is so small and the men around us are so... manly. They’re adults, not stupid teenage boys that count their blessings if you let them get to second base. Well, most teenage boys do, just not the Forsaken ones.
A woman passes by fully naked with two beers in her hands. My eyes follow her naked body, half in disbelief and half in jealousy of her confidence, as she places the beers on a table in the corner of the room. She parts her legs and climbs up on the lap of a large man I don’t recognize. I turn away when she lifts herself up and, through the gap between her body and his, a dark hand sneaks out and rubs the flesh tucked between her butt cheeks, then sinks in between them. Her head falls backward as her hips jerk from the motion.
“Oh my God,” I say and elbow Tracie. I turn my attention back to the bar area across the main room and try to block that out.
It’s not working.
“What?”
“Some dude just shoved his finger in that woman’s butt.” My face is beet red, and the stifling heat gets to be too much. I unbutton my top and slip it off and choose to deal with the tiny tank I’m sporting that provides very little coverage—even less than what Tracie’s wearing.
“It happens,” she says casually and tugs me toward the bar. I nearly trip over a couple making out and another doing lines of something off a naked woman’s inner thighs. I can’t believe my dad hangs out here. I can’t believe I’m hanging out here. Knowing this shit goes down and seeing it firsthand are two totally different things.
“Since you’re the expert, why don’t you tell me where Jeremy is.” I don’t regret the words when they leave my mouth. No, I regret the curiosity and nervousness I feel in my heart. I shouldn’t want to know.
“Ah,” Tracie says with a smirk. “Birthday boy should be around here somewhere. Let’s grab a few beers, and then we can track him down.”