I didn’t even notice him standing in the doorway.
Jacques stands and faces him. “Well yeah, but I was stocking the shelves in the back, not my fault they decided to stand outside the room,” he quips and laughs at himself before he’s stopped short by a slap to the side of his head.
“Shut your ear holes next time, smartass, just because me and Bear are brothers doesn’t automatically give you an in, you need to earn your cut, get it?”
Everyone lounging around the common area laughs and Jacques storms out of the clubhouse looking red faced. Pop sits on the stool Jacques just left and motions for prospect Whitey to get him a beer. My head turns to the door as three broads walk in. One of them I’ve never seen before. Smokey turns to me and taps me on the arm. “Hey isn’t that Jojo’s daughter?” He asks.
Jojo is one of the oldest members but he can’t seem to keep it in his pants still and keeps fathering children left, right and center. I shudder at the thought of a chick actually being willing to go near him, he’s as fat as he is stupid.
“Fuck if I know, he has so many who can keep count?” I say, keeping my eyes trained on her.
She has on light denim cut offs that show half her ass and a white crop top showing her tanned, toned stomach but her face gives off a different vibe to the outfit she’s wearing. Her outfit screams up for it, while her face is saying stay away from me. I can’t say she doesn’t affect me, but I’d never go there, she’s way too young, she doesn’t look much older than eighteen. But it looks like Smokey doesn’t have the same issue as me as I watch him walk over to her with extra swagger in his step.
Jacques walks back into the clubhouse looking like he’s calmed down some and walks over to us, taking in the new arrivals at the same time. He locks eyes with the pretty brunette and nods toward her.
“Who’s that?”
I shrug. “One of Jojo’s apparently.”
His face takes on an unreadable look and he nods his head. “Yeah, I think she was in my algebra class last year. What’s she doing here?” He asks, not taking his eyes off her.
“Probably just turned eighteen, but who knows.”
“Fancied herself under a biker is more like it,” JT sneers and grabs the beer that prospect Whitey hands him.
I shake my head at him. How can he talk about her like that? She’s practically still a kid. I immediately feel guilty for my reaction to her and dismiss myself to my room, not willing to watch the brothers circle the new meat.
I walk past Pres’ office to get to my room and hear shouting. I know I should just keep walking but I can’t stop myself and I lean on the wall outside his door. I strain my ears, only able to catch half the conversation, but I can hear enough to know it’s Taz and Tank going at it.
“You said it was a done deal… fuck Denlo!” Taz shouts, and I hear a crash from inside.
Looks like there’s trouble in paradise between the Pres and his beloved VP. Not able to understand what they’re talking about, I hurry away from the door not wanting to be in the path of the whirlwind when he comes storming out.
What’s a done deal? And what’s going on with Denlo?
I don’t bother to spend any more time thinking about it and flop onto my bed, placing my hands behind my head.
Where is he going for a few days? And if he’s going away, that means he won’t be here for me to keep tabs on. If I wasn’t working for the rest of the week I’d follow him, but I’ve picked up these extra shifts to get away from the clubhouse.
The gray metal door bangs off the wall as it’s flung open, and I don’t move from the spot on the floor where I’m huddled up. I don’t know how long I’ve been here for, a couple of hours? Days? It’s probably closer to two days than anything else, but I can’t be sure.
I watch as he carries a chair into the middle of the room and flinch when he slams it down. He swirls around and motions for me to get up, I just look at him, rooted to the spot staring him down.
“Get. Up,” he grinds out, each word laced with venom.
I continue to stare.
“I said get up!” He screams, spittle flying everywhere.
I debate staying where I am but the look in his eyes tells me I shouldn’t, so I slowly start to stand up, grimacing at the pain in my knee and feet.
“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” He sneers, showing his nicotine stained teeth. “Now sit,” he commands, like I’m a prize winning dog.
I grit my teeth but comply and squeeze my eyes shut as he trails a finger down over my collar bone and over my shoulder, tracing the tattoos that are etched into my skin.
“I always wanted a tattoo, one apart from the club patch of course but I could never decide what I wanted. Not like you, you’re like a coloring book aren’t you?”
I don’t say anything, just keep my eyes squeezed shut, wishing to be anywhere else.
“Where was your last tattoo?” He asks curiously.