by Tia Lewis
But this was different. This was way bigger than that. He hated me just then. He had come out of prison expecting me to be on his side, and I had let him down.
“I wish it could be different,” I said. “I really do. I want you to be happy now that you’re out. I want us to work together. I want us to go back to being brothers—I mean, I’ve been looking forward to you coming home for such a long time. This is all any of us could talk about for months now. I don’t want it to be like this.”
His eyes burned into mine. “Yeah. I wish it could be different, too.” He let go of me with his shoulders slumped. “I guess you’re right. I have to get used to the way things are.” He sounded so fucking confused and disappointed, I almost could’ve cried for him. I never knew it meant that much to him, going back to the way things used to be. I wished there was some way for everybody to be happy, but he would have to compromise a little bit. We all had to, sometimes.
“You coming back in?” We couldn’t hang out there all day. People would come looking for us, and I didn’t think it would be a great idea for anybody to know what was going on in his head.
He only shook his head. “Nah, not right now. I need to clear my head.” He went to his bike. I didn’t bother asking if he was okay to ride since he would just call me a pussy again. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody ever rode after they polished off a fifth of whiskey and a gallon of beer, but Big Jack had always been against us riding drunk after a nasty accident. Something told me to keep my mouth shut and let my brother ride away, alone.
When I walked back inside, the girls were cleaning up. I felt Violet’s eyes on me, questioning, caring. I didn’t look at her before walking upstairs to sleep off the rest of my hangover. I didn’t feel like answering her questions, or anybody’s.
7
Violet
I watched him walk upstairs and wished I was the girl who could follow him up to ask what was happening. I could tell things were tense between him and Gunner—even though it was great that he was back with the club, it was obvious they had a lot of issues to work out. More on Gunner’s side than on Diesel’s.
My heart sank a little. I would never be his woman, even if we had finally hooked up after so long. He wasn’t interested in a relationship. He wasn’t like Drake or Creed. And I wasn’t like Nicole or Tamara. They were the sort of girls a man would settle down with. They had something to offer. I would always be the friend-with-benefits. I told myself again to get used to that idea. Life would be easier that way. Less disappointment.
I couldn’t believe I had actually thought for a second that things might be better after we hooked up. If anything, I was more miserable than ever.
I picked up a handful of plastic cups and tossed them into a trash bag. The sound of a muffled snort caught my attention. I looked up and saw one of the Cobra skanks looking at me with a smirk.
“What’s up?” I told myself not to start an argument. None of us really liked those girls, so it was easy to take the bait when one of them threw shade the way the one in the barely-there dress did as she leaned against the bar.
Her eyes drifted up the stairs, then she looked back and me. “What’s the story with you two?”
“What do you mean?” I wouldn’t let her bait me. I wouldn’t let her. I was mature. Besides, it would piss Drake off if we got in a fight. Even so, my hands curled into fists.
“I know you’re not his old lady,” she murmured.
“Right.”
“So what’s that make you? His bottom bitch?”
I saw red. “Is that some sort of whore word? Because I don’t know it.”
She stood up straight and glared at me. “A whore word?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said.” I dropped the bag of trash at my feet.
“Stop, stop, stop!” A second girl got between us before we could start swinging. She was dressed a lot like her friend, in a skintight dress that didn’t cover too much. No matter what people thought about the girls who worked in the club, at least we dressed ourselves.
The second girl looked at me. I recognized her from other parties. “You don’t know what ‘bottom bitch’ means, and that’s cool.” She looked at the other girl. “Right?”
“She called me a whore.”
“If the shoe fits,” I muttered.
The second girl glared at me. “I’m trying to keep you from getting your eyes clawed out, girl. Just chill. Are you gonna chill?”
I nodded, though I didn’t feel much like cooperating. She turned to her friend and got her to sit down, then turned back to me and pushed a handful of long, too-blonde-to-be-real hair out of her face.
“What Janelle meant was, you’re his friend, the woman he trusts more than any other woman. Right? You’re like his ride-or-die.”
I nodded slowly. “Sort of. I mean, not exactly, but sort of.”
“You’re not his old lady. You’re not, like, his public woman. The one he takes places or whatever.”
“He doesn’t have a woman like that.” I sat on the arm of the couch.
She smirked. “Yeah. Most of these guys don’t, do they? Well, anyways, ‘bottom bitch’ is a pimp/ho term so, you weren’t really wrong.”
“I’m not a ho.”
“Never said you were,” Janelle smirked. “The bottom bitch is a pimp’s most important ho. She brings in the most money, she keeps the other girls in line, she takes care of him. When he has a problem, she listens to it, and if he wants her advice, she gives it to him. She supports him. She’s sort of, well, I guess you could say she’s the work wife.”
“So you were asking if I was that to Diesel?”
“Not that you’re his ho or he’s a pimp. Just sayin’, it seems like you two have something going. You wanna take care of him, you want to protect him from stuff.”
“I do,” I admitted softly.
“Does he come to you with his issues?” Janelle asked.
“Sometimes. A lot of the time, I guess.”
“And I bet it makes you feel good when he does that, huh?” The other girl, whose name I still didn’t know, gave me a sympathetic look.
“Yeah, it does.” I shrugged. “I can’t help it.”
“I know.” And she looked like she knew, too. “It’s not fair. You give a man all your time and attention. You would do anything for him. And he acts like you’re just anybody. Just an ordinary person he doesn’t really need in his life. Even though you know better.”
I felt all choked up all of a sudden, and I wiped away a tear that threatened to spill over onto my cheek. “He’s just an idiot,” I laughed, but it was a shaky laugh.
“Most of them are, honey.” The blonde put an arm over my shoulder. “I’m Crystal. I hope you know none of us wants to be enemies with you girls, the Blood Rider girls. We’re part of the Cobras just like you’re part of this club.”
“And you still sleep with the guys. You just don’t get paid for it,” Janelle smirked. I shot her a look.
“I said we want to be friends,” Crystal reminded her. Then she looked at me. “And yeah, maybe it seems a little bitchy that you girls think you’re so much better than us. We’re just working, you know? The way you do.”
“I know. I’m sorry. You’re right—it’s rude of us. Drake wants us to get along, too. It’ll make things easier for everybody.”
“Same here.”
I looked at the two of them. “You probably think I’m pretty pathetic.”
“Nah,” Janelle admitted. “You like a guy whose head is too far up his ass to see how good you are. We’ve all been there.”
“He makes me wonder if I’m wasting my time. I should move on.”
Crystal shrugged. “That’s possible. Or maybe you need to not be there for him all the time, you know? Like, he’s so used to you just being there. You’re making it too easy for him to take you for granted.”
It felt like a lightbulb going off in my head. Of course. She was absolutely right. I ran in circles around his ankles like a pu
ppy dog. I begged him for attention. I treated him like he was my responsibility when he wasn’t. I gave him all the comfort and reassurance a woman would give her man, but he didn’t give me anything in return. If years of treating him that way hadn’t gotten me anywhere, I had to rethink things.
“I bet you wanted so much to run upstairs after him and ask if he was okay, right?” Janelle looked at me knowingly.
“Yeah.”
“And if he were in a bad mood and didn’t wanna tell you, you’d feel hurt by that. Right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
She snickered. “You know you would. Anybody would if they liked somebody the way you like him.”
I couldn’t argue. It was pointless. Nicole came in and looked around.
“What’s going on? You okay?” More than anything, she looked surprised that I was sitting and talking with the girls.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. It’s just been a long day already.”
She chuckled. “Tell me about it. Come on. Let’s get this place cleaned up.”
“We can help.” Crystal picked up the trash bag I had dropped. Nicole looked at me, and I smiled.
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” So the four of us worked together, and by the time we finished, we were all talking like we’d known each other for a long time. I didn’t say as much as they did, though. There was too much on my mind.
I couldn’t help but think about him, up there, all alone. The girls were right. He counted on me always being there for him—only when it was convenient for him, of course. And he was never there when I needed him, either. If I needed support, I went to Nicole or Tam. It was a completely one-sided relationship. I couldn’t keep giving and giving with nothing in return.
By the time the clubhouse looked normal again, the four of us had sat around like old friends. “Don’t you two have to go to work tonight or something?” Nicole asked.
Crystal shook her head. “We’re off tonight since we were here last night. Bobby’s pretty cool about stuff like that.” Yeah, that sounded pretty cool. I managed not to roll my eyes.
“Yeah, he knew we would be partying pretty hard last night.” Janelle crossed her long legs. I wished I had legs as long as hers. I was always the shortest girl in the room.
The door swung open and in staggered Gunner. It was still jarring to see him—he wasn’t one of the faces I was familiar with. He looked like he was in pretty much the same shape he’d been in when he first woke up. Crystal and Janelle were the two girls he woke up with, and when his eyes focused on them, he gave them a knowing smile.
“Hey, ladies. You stuck around for more, huh?” He leaned against the bar with that same smile. I wondered if he knew how gross he was just then—he looked sweaty and didn’t smell much better. Whiskey and beer pretty much poured from his skin and made a sort of cloud around him.
I figured out at that moment what made girls like Crystal and Janelle who they were. If he had come up to me with a line like that, I would’ve had a really hard time not gagging. Even if I didn’t gag, I couldn’t have pretended to be enthused.
They, on the other hand, giggled together like he was the world’s sexiest billionaire and they were flattered that he’d even look at them. “You wore us out last night,” Crystal purred. She sounded like a different person. I glanced at Nicole, who was barely biting back a smile.
“Besides,” Janelle murmured, “I don’t think our boss wants us mingling with the club today if you get what I mean.” She gave him a broad wink. “Last night was last night. I hate it, but those are the rules.”
Gunner’s smile faded. “I thought we were, like, your bosses now.”
The girls looked at each other, then at us. “The club is partnered with their club. The Cobras. We’re partners. We’re not their bosses.”
“Well, you’re not,” he fired back, looking her up and down. I winced—did he forget who Nicole was? If he did, it wouldn’t be for long. The door to Drake’s office swung open. I heard the squeak over my shoulder.
“What’s happening out here?” He knew. I could hear it in his voice. He was willing to give Gunner a chance to backpedal. That was one thing I really liked about Drake as a leader. He was extremely fair. And I could tell from the look on Gunner’s face that he didn’t see it that way. Didn’t he respect Drake?
“Nothing. I was just trying to figure out what the point of having this partnership with the Cobras is.”
I looked over my shoulder. Drake was sizing Gunner up, figuring out whether it was a good idea to call him out for challenging the decisions made in the club. Finally, he said, “To make money. Which we’ve done. You’re more than welcome to take a look at the books if you don’t believe me. I’m sure you’ll be happy with what you find.”
“And that’s it?” Gunner slurred. He needed to back down. Drake could only be pushed so far.
“Yeah. Did I talk too fast for ya?”
Gunner stood there for a long time. I didn’t know if he was going to throw something or shout something or what. The tension was thick enough to cut.
“This is a fucking joke.” He spat on the floor, then walked up the stairs, shaking his head. I cringed when a door slammed up there.
“That went well. I’m so glad he’s back.” Drake went to his office and slammed the door.
8
Diesel
On Monday afternoon, I went to see Bobby. It was weird, not telling Drake about the meeting before I went. I was used to telling him everything. He was my President. I would never have dreamed of going behind his back if I didn’t think it was important.
The whole way over, I asked myself what he could want to talk about. I had thought about it all day Sunday, of course, and had even lost a little sleep over it the night before. What did he do?
Gunner was staying at the clubhouse until he found a new apartment. I had offered to let him stay with me, but he wasn’t interested. I knew he wanted to be as close as possible to the action. I would probably feel the same way if I had been away for as long as he had. After I woke up on Sunday afternoon, after we had that little fight outside, I’d watched to see if he gave himself away, if there was something weird about him that I hadn’t seen the day before because I was too busy being glad to have him back in the free world. But he never tipped me off.
All day, I had fought against the instinct to ask him what the hell was happening. Who did he make friends with in prison? I went through a list in my head of people it could be just so it wouldn’t be too big of a surprise. There were always rival clan members inside. It was like a revolving door for some of them. A few guys would come out, a few more guys would go in. Sometimes the same guys—their cot wouldn’t even be cold by the time they made it back to their cell.
I could hear blood racing in my ears when I pulled up to Bobby’s headquarters. He worked out of the original brothel, the first one he opened up in Manhattan. The building was old, and the neighborhood was pretty quiet for the city, which was probably the reason he had chosen the area. That and the number of old buildings in need of reuse back when he first opened.
I walked up to the big metal door facing the sidewalk and rang the bell. It wasn’t my first time visiting, so I knew there were three cameras on me. I made it a point to look straight into the one at my right, around eye-level. I could just make out the tiny lens. He could afford the state-of-the-art technology to keep his place safe. A buzzer sounded, and I opened the door.
The entryway was dark. I pulled a heavy curtain aside and stepped into the reception area. It was like stepping into another world, even when the place wasn’t open for business. The front desk was empty, so I waited for somebody to come out and greet me.
“Thanks for coming all the way out here.” Bobby’s voice carried down the hall from his office.
“It’s not that far from Queens,” I said with a smile.
“And yet it’s like another world, right?” I kept smiling even though I wanted to ask him what was wrong with our clubhouse or the neigh
borhood we operated out of. No, it wasn’t in the middle of the financial district or right off Central Park, but it was home for us, and we had done okay for ourselves out there. I pushed my thoughts deep down so he wouldn’t see them all over my face and let him lead me to his office. No sense in starting an argument when my brother had already started trouble.
“Can I get you something to drink? Maybe one of the girls can fix you something to eat?”
I shook my head. “I had a late breakfast. But coffee would be good. Never a bad time for coffee.” We passed a big room with couches and a TV. There was a handful of girls in there, sitting around in casual clothes, watching a talk show. Bobby signaled one of them, and they hopped to their feet. I noticed as she came over to us that she had a swollen lip and a bruise around her eye that she had tried to cover with makeup. Even with clothes on, I recognized her. She was one of the girls Gunner had woken up with after the party.
Bobby noticed me staring at her, then waved me on to his office. “Crystal will bring the coffee to the office,” he explained. “She needed a little straightening out after denying your brother yesterday. So did Janelle. She decided to spend the morning in her room with an ice pack.”
“What?” We reached the door to the room at the end of the hall, where he did most of his business, but I froze in the doorway. “What do you mean, they denied him?”
Bobby sighed like he was getting ready to tell bad news when he didn’t want to. “It’s one of those things, you know. Something you deal with when you deal with girls like these. Your brother propositioned her and another one of my girls, but they turned him down. He was very unhappy.”
“I don’t get this. He slept with them after the party. Why would he ask for more—and why do you know about it?”