by Hazel Parker
“Understand, all of you, that this man will be our guest. He may be a Saint, but you are to remember that until a week ago, we weren’t a thing to the Saints in Green Hills. So at this point, we are strangers to him. Give their man the Vegas experience, answer any questions he has, and treat him as one of our own. Got it?”
“Do we know anything about the man?” I said.
I felt it was a legitimate question, one I would have asked even if we needed financial and not manpower assistance from the other club.
“Actually, yes,” Richard said. “Dom’s brought him over for poker. Trace said that he’s one of his most trusted men. Quiet and not one for speaking much, but a man who can get shit done and won’t bullshit. I believe he may bring his girlfriend with him, but if he does, she’s going to stay on the Strip on her own dime.”
Well, at least we weren’t subsidizing a couple’s sex life.
But I was going to be face to face, in just a few minutes, with the man who was going to try to take my job. That did not sound fun.
“I don’t have anything more to say on that,” Richard said. “Dom, can you bring him in for poker? Unless someone else has something to say?”
No one spoke up. Richard nodded to Dom, who headed to the back door. I leaned back in my chair, bowed my head, and vowed to at least not be a saboteur to the night. I wouldn’t pretend to like the guy if he were an asshole, but I pledged not to be someone who would cause a scene for the sake of causing a scene.
Seconds later, before a conversation could start, Dom walked back in.
His guest was enormous.
Like, ridiculously enormous. I was not particularly large, though with my UFC background and training in knives, size usually didn’t mean shit to me. But this man looked like a tank.
“Everyone, meet BK,” Dom said.
BK—what the fuck did that mean anyway, Burger King?—nodded as Mama, Pork, and Richard rose to shake his hand. Feeling that I had no choice in the matter, I also stood up and offered my hand. BK’s enormous paws swallowed mine, and he didn’t say a word as he shook with us all. It wasn’t helping matters that he still wore sunglasses, despite it being dark outside and this location being indoors.
“BK is the SAA of the California Savage Saints.”
God fucking damnit.
He literally has the same title as me. He’s come to take my fucking job. We’ll fucking see about that.
“BK has led some dangerous, dangerous missions against rival clubs in the Los Angeles area,” Dom said. “He brings with him a wealth of expertise in how we can handle the Sinners. But we’ll get to that in the coming days. For now, let’s show him a good time.”
“Welcome, BK,” Richard said.
Still, BK had not said a word. This was ridiculous. Even though I was on the quieter side of things, I wasn’t a fucking mute.
I didn’t like this guy one bit. He may have had knowledge and expertise, but he did not know Las Vegas like I did, and he did not know the Sinners like I did.
“So, BK,” I said as Dom dealt the cards to see who would be the dealer. “Where are you staying right now?”
“Stratosphere,” he said.
His voice was a deep baritone. I waited for him to add some more context, but that was a stupid mistake. BK was clearly a person who didn’t speak unless spoken to, and even then, he only said as much as needed.
“Ah, cool,” I said. “Have you been there before?”
“No.”
I bit my lip.
“Did you bring your girlfriend? Is she safe there?”
“Yes, yes.”
I shot Dom and Richard glares that told them I was not happy with their decision, but neither reciprocated. If BK noticed—and I hadn’t exactly been subtle in expressing my displeasure—he didn’t seem to care one bit.
This was awful. BK was cold and quiet; Cassie was back in town; and the Sinners were primed to strike back at any day.
Fucking hell.
I just needed a break.
Chapter 4: Cassie
True to his word, Brett hadn’t bothered me in the week since.
I saw him during my performances. It was impossible not to since he was part of the group that owned the place. I got nervous every time I saw him lay eyes on me, but at least it got slightly easier to deal with. I wasn’t as much of an internal wreck as I had been before.
Funny enough, it made me kind of sad and empty to know that he’d look at me when it was impossible for us to talk, but as soon as we could have said something in the halls, he went mute. We’d never broken up in high school, but I knew plenty of girls who would get dumped or would dump their man, and every time they passed the other person in the halls, it was like seeing the devil. They wouldn’t look at them, but a strong rush would go through their bodies.
Brett wasn’t the devil. But not being able to communicate with him, to go back to the way things were, to go back to the simple days, was a kind of hell in its own right.
At least the rest of my life was coming along pretty nicely.
The club had paid me for my three performances that Monday, making good on their level of pay. I’d expected some of it to come under the table, but it was my pleasant surprise to see that they cut a very official and very corporate-looking check for me. I didn’t know what sort of activities went on behind closed doors, but I imagined the checks added an air of legitimacy in case they were going to try to do anything else.
I was making friends with some of the other dancers, although not yet to the point that I could go out with them outside of work. Crystal was especially nurturing and friendly, though I still needed about another week to feel like I could comfortably invite them over to hang. As a result, most of my nights were spent in, watching Netflix, relaxing in my studio apartment.
That was just as well, anyway. The goal was to save money in preparation for a life as a lawyer, not to celebrate the Las Vegas lifestyle. I was sure a day would come when I’d go out into the streets of Vegas and party, but not any time soon. Besides, my days off were Tuesday and Wednesday, not Saturday and Sunday. Though there wasn’t such a thing as a “quiet” day in Vegas.
So, overall, the first week went about as well as it could have.
And still, for it being Thursday, my first day back, and to not even see Brett in the audience… it’s tough.
This is the punishment you pay, Cassie. This is the karma you get for leaving him like so.
“Hey!”
I looked up to see Crystal approaching.
“You alright? You look like your dog just died.”
I didn’t think I looked like shit, but maybe I hadn’t hidden my emotions well enough. Sitting by my bag, I suppose I had just spent a few minutes looking at the ceiling with a kind of blasé expression on my face.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, deflecting her concerns. “Is Mama around? I haven’t seen her yet.”
“Ah, what she did last week, she doesn’t do all the time,” Crystal said as she pulled her shirt over her bra. “She just did that because it was your first week. She’s not gonna hold our hands all the time, though. If you don’t hear from her, it’s because you had a good night.”
“Oh, that’s good,” I said with a shrug. I wasn’t really as present as I needed to be in this conversation.
“Yeah, but don’t always assume her presence is bad news,” Crystal said. “Remember, Mama cares. Do you need anything before we head out?”
I shook my head as I checked my watch. It was ten minutes after four a.m. I had long ago adjusted to the unusual hours; strippers didn’t make money at two in the afternoon like lawyers did. Going back to a “normal” schedule was going to be a real pain in the butt.
“I’m good, thanks, Crystal,” I said.
“Anytime,” she said. “Keep this up, and you might be headlining the main showcases. Or, hell, you might get more than three nights a week if you want.”
I beamed at the possibility. Each extra night was an extra grand, which
was another step closer to paying tuition. Each extra night was a step closer to leaving Las Vegas for a law degree.
Each extra night was a step toward truly, forever, putting Brett behind me and moving on.
Is that really what you want? To have a second chance with him and getting to know him, only to just… walk out again, with no explanation? Do you think he’ll be OK with that? More importantly, do you think you’ll be OK with that?
“Sounds great,” I said, but Crystal had already walked out the door.
I shook my head. I had to get home. I’d done my job for the night, and Walker or Mama would eventually come and kick me out. I grabbed my stuff, put on my Chucks, and walked outside the main entrance, the one I normally used.
When I turned left and went to the back to the parking lot, I saw a sight that was unmistakable.
Brett was smoking a cigarette, his head down, with a beer in his hand.
I hadn’t seen him outside like this since the first night, but I had seen him in the hallways and the theatre. He had never looked like this, looked this beat up before. He looked like he just needed… well, he had the beer and the cigarette.
He looked like he needed a hug.
“You promise to stay away from me, and I’ll promise to stay away from you. Got it?”
Brett’s words echoed in my head as I found myself looking at him. I pulled myself away and walked past.
But…
Brett wouldn’t have put himself there if he hadn’t wanted attention, right? He could have just as easily stayed inside or smoked and drank his beer at home. He only had to be there because he was hoping someone would walk by, right?
I paused, took a deep breath, and turned to Brett before I could change my mind. Sparks flew all through my body, my legs going weak, and my breath catching. Even in a state as haggard as this, Brett looked handsome. It was a different kind of handsome than what I had known, and even different than how he was a week ago, but it was still handsome.
He didn’t look up at me, but he did put his beer down when I got closer.
“What’s going on?” I said. “You OK?”
Brett took a puff of his cigarette, moving very slowly as if he had to take all the time in the world to make each movement.
“You don’t remember what I said last week, do you?” he said.
His voice sounded especially weak.
“I remember,” I said.
Brett glanced at me, his eyes moving to the side as he let out a sad chuckle.
“So you’re doing this deliberately,” he said. “Interesting.”
I folded my arms, concern etched on my face. I just wanted him to look at me, to see that I cared, to see that no matter how tense things were, no matter how much I had fucked up in the past, I still cared about him.
But I didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve anything from Brett, certainly not conversation.
“I’m getting usurped in my job,” Brett said.
“What do you mean?”
But Brett said nothing.
I should have known that a man as against revealing his inner secrets as Brett was going to struggle to reveal more than one thing at a time, especially because I was the same way. Who could blame him?
The antidote to that, though, was simple. Get to the point.
“I know this is awkward as hell for you, Brett,” I said. “Me being here.”
“What did you tell Mama?”
I bit my lip. Shit.
“Just… that we were a couple as teenagers, things fell apart badly, and… that was pretty much it. Honestly.”
“Is that it?” Brett said.
“Yes, I promise.”
Brett, again, took his time smoking and drinking. That was something else that he hadn’t done much of in our high school days; he smuggled some beer and had a cigarette once when he was drunk off his ass, but otherwise, he had mostly avoided the more dangerous vices. His time as a football player and a wrestler kept him devoted to staying healthy.
“It’s pretty obvious you spoke to her,” Brett said. “You know how I said leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone? That goes for my friends, Cassie. You—”
“Is my presence here a problem?” I blurted out.
I said the painfully straightforward words not to accuse him or to confront him, but to ultimately make things better. I couldn’t make the situation any better if I kept fighting and refusing to tell the truth. And as much as I wanted to believe that we could just do the dance of avoiding each other like we were feuding teenagers, we were too old to play that shit.
“Well,” Brett said with a long sigh.
Then, finally, he looked me in the eyes. God… how wonderfully close I felt at that moment.
“The way you left me, how could it not be?”
And how extremely painful that moment felt with those words.
He was right, though. How could me leaving without notice, never contacting him, and then avoiding most of my friends and life in Phoenix not make his life a little bit hellish?
At least, finally, we’d gotten past the bullshit of pretending to be distant and gotten right to the point.
“I… I know…”
I wanted to explain myself and defend myself. No, not defend myself. I wanted to tell the truth and free myself of what I’d done. I wanted Brett to hear it all, and if he forgave me then, I could move on. And if he didn’t, I could live in peace, knowing I’d done all that I could to make things better.
But this wasn’t the time or place to do it.
“Can we grab coffee and catch up? Please?”
Brett scrunched his eyebrows and snorted, as if he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to risk being construed as positive in some fashion. Was that too much to ask? I wasn’t asking him for a night on the town or a romantic dinner. I just wanted coffee.
“What’s there to catch up on?” Brett said. “You left me, you don’t want to tell me, and that’s that. I’m not interested in a coffee date with someone who thinks it’s fun to—”
“Brett,” I said, practically pleading. “I’m not asking you on a date. I recognize that that’s not going to happen again.”
It surprised me how painful it was to say that. It was as if by actually putting that thought out there, I had sealed my fate as someone who would never have my one love ever again.
“I just want to explain myself and tell you why the things that happened, happened. I have no expectation of love. I have no expectation of anything other than to work here at The Red Door, make an honest living, and then eventually go to law school. I want to tell the truth, and then we can both move on.”
Brett looked like he was about to give another smartass reply, but he bit his tongue, looked at me, and sighed. He then opened his mouth again as if to say something else, but again fought the words that almost escaped his throat.
“Fuck it,” he finally said. “This is a stupid idea. But sure. Tuesday afternoon. There’s a party at the club that night I’m going to. I’ll see you at seven at the Starbucks by Rancho Drive. Don’t keep me waiting.”
He didn’t wait for me to confirm that I understood. Instead, he took the half-finished cigarette out of his mouth, ground it, and then headed for his bike, chugging his beer before he finished. I watched him the whole way, not saying a word before he sped out of the lot and off to his home.
I wasn’t sure if I had made the right move. This was opening up more than a can of worms; it was like opening a delivery truck filled with worms, especially considering that, apparently, I had played a big part in making him who he was. There was a very good chance that, depending on how Tuesday went, this could wind up being my last week at The Red Door. Mama said not to sleep with any of the officers, but what if confiding intimate details to them was even worse?
It was too late to change my mind now, though. Going back on my word to see him would get me fired; Brett would do everything in his power to have me removed, or, at best, given a shift every couple of weeks or so.
For better or for worse—likely for much, much worse—I had cornered myself into telling everything to Brett.
So why was I feeling excited about Tuesday’s potential?
Chapter 5: Barber
If anyone asked me why I had agreed to hang out with Cassie, I would have no good answer.
The honest answer was morbid curiosity. The part of me that was hurt—the part of me that I didn’t even acknowledge existed for much of my waking time—wanted to know the why and the how. It knew that it was likely to get hurt even more, but I was some kind of masochist, just looking to get whipped by the wires of truth and the past. Those whips never turned into feathers, and they certainly didn’t soothe; they only increased the pain that much more.
And if I was being really, really, painfully, brutally, sincerely honest… a part of me wanted Cassie back.
But it was a minuscule part of me, so small and so buried that I almost wondered if I was just trying to be deeper than I actually was. I wasn’t some simple peon; I had layers. But I wasn’t as deep as an underground bunker. I was more like an onion—a little deep, but nothing that would have shocked people.
In any case, though, Tuesday at six-fifty came, and I found myself still wondering why the fuck I had agreed to this.
I could have told Cassie at any point over the previous four days that I didn’t want to do this anymore. She’d at least remembered the rule not to bother me so I wouldn’t bother her, a rule that made no fucking sense anyway since it wasn’t like I was going to attack her or berate her if she kept pestering me. The warning worked in the sense that Cassie hadn’t said much to me, but if she had bothered to think about it at all, she would have realized just how hollow a threat it was.
And yet, I never did. I told myself that at this point, since I didn’t have her number, there was nothing I could do to change the plans, but that was equally as bullshit as anything else. All it would have taken was a text to Richard or Mama and not only would I have had her phone number, I’d have had her address and maybe even her social security number.