After a few moments she returns, and a fresh drink is placed in front of me. There’s a gleam in her eye that I’m not sure I like.
“Thanks, Celine.” I regard it for a moment, feeling guilty. “You know you didn’t have to bring me out tonight. I’m so sorry I can’t pay my way.”
“Oh shush, girl. It’s good to get away from the house and have a girls’ night out. Craig’s all well and good, but I can go out with him anytime. And I can’t eye fuck the men while he’s around.”
I smile, thinking she doesn’t have to. She landed herself a good’un with him. So, what was she up to? I make a small gesture that no one else would notice. “What was that all about?”
“What?” she replies innocently, but something in her eyes flares.
“You, talking to the bikers.”
She laughs, shrugging it off, and points to the drinks on the table. “You’ll soon be able to return the favour once you’re earning again.”
She’s changing the subject by reminding me of my sorry predicament. I lift my chin and lower it, while thinking it will take a long time before I find anyone willing to take me on. Though, surprisingly, in Tucson it’s not the colour of my skin that’s much of a drawback. There are relatively few blacks in the city, and therefore we’re not viewed as any kind of threat. No, it’s the fact I’ve never worked a day in my life that’s against me. A half completed law degree hasn’t proved to be of any use.
Celine’s looking at her glass, and then peers at me over the top. “Hey, get that look off your face. Things are looking up, girl. I’ve got you an interview. Well, maybe audition’s the better word for it.”
Hang on. She said nothing about this earlier, and that flick of her eyes toward the men at the bar gives her away. Oh shit, don’t tell this mama it’s something to do with the bikers. I put my hand to my mouth, suddenly feeling very afraid. “Celine, what have you done?” I hiss. My eyes return to the bar just in time to see the two men disappearing out the back. “What do you mean, an audition?”
“At Satan’s Topless Angels.”
I growl low in my throat, “Which is?” But deep down I already know the answer. The name gives it away.
“The strip club owned by the Satan’s Devils Motorcycle Club.” Her reply is nonchalant, as if she was speaking about nothing more edifying than the weather forecast.
Now my head drops into my hands. What the hell has she gone and done?
“It’s tomorrow morning,” she continues, as if she’s not given me anything out of the ordinary to consider. “At eleven o’clock.”
For a moment I peer through my fingers, staring at her. What the hell is she thinking? There is no way on earth that I’ll be making that audition. For one thing—the only thing that matters—I don’t have what it takes. All at once, anger takes over as I look at my sister who, though has the same skin colour, unlike me, has been blessed with a tall, slender physique, taking after our father. “Celine, just be sensible. Look at me,” I hiss. “I’m short, overweight, and my boobs are totally out of proportion. Hardly stripper material.”
As quickly as mine had, her ire rises to match. “You’re beautiful, Alex, and don’t you ever forget it. And strippers come in all shapes and sizes, they have to. Men are attracted to many different types.”
“Not mine.” My husband had criticised my body for years, not that there was much I could do about it. All the dieting and exercising in the world hadn’t altered the basic shape God had gifted me with. My legs are too short, my breasts top heavy, and as for my ass... I, as Ron had so often said, am a joke.
She waves her hand in dismissal. “It’s what you do with it that matters the most. And boy, have you got some moves.”
Maybe I have. Who am I to judge? But I’d spent months trying. Not that Ron had appreciated it at all. He’d seen the same video I’d sent to Celine and he’d laughed his head off before telling me I made him feel sick and walked out, presumably to find a whore to stick his dick into.
I’d never told him anything about my strange hobby again. But I’d continued my lessons, performing for nothing other than my own enjoyment. But the legacy of the reaction of the man I’d left was what made me so nervous showing myself off to strangers. If he was repulsed, wouldn’t they be too?
“Look, Alex, I think you ought to give this a try…”
“Celine. You know I love you, and how much I appreciate you taking me in. And I know you need me to start paying my way, but there must be something else I can do…”
“You haven’t found anything so far. And,” she holds up her hands to stop me trying to talk over her again, “you need to get some confidence back. I think this is a great way. Go to the audition, show them what you’ve got, shake that little booty of yours, and if you get the job, great, you don’t have to take it. If they offer it to you, at least you’ll start believing that bastard Ron was just trying to wear you down.”
But what he’d said was the truth. I could use a mirror as well as the next woman. It will just be one more situation where I’d make a man laugh. “But it’s a strip club,” I snarl. Shit, how did I end up with this as my only option? “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Plenty of women do. And it’s not as though you’re going to be a hooker. Damn girl, just give it a try. For me?”
“I am not getting naked in front of strangers.” My hand wanders down and smoothes across the curves of my stomach.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Wear a bodysuit or something. I’m sure you can work something out.” The airily way she dismisses all my protests makes me realise with a sinking feeling of dread, she’s actually serious about this.
My eyes narrow. “They didn’t even look at me. They weren’t at all interested.” Yeah, they’d looked around at my coughing fit, but away just as quickly.
She shrugs, pushing her artificially relaxed and straightened hair over her shoulders. “I may have led them to believe it was going to be me.”
“Well you can fucking go instead.” There. If she’s so keen for one of us to take her clothes off in public, let it be her.
“Alex,” she starts, sounding like she’s addressing a slow learner. “I might have been blessed with a typical figure and reasonable looks, but I can’t do with it what you can. You’ve got the rhythm and movement. I’m just a stick on two legs.”
That brings a small smile to my lips. Unfortunately, she’s right. But is my ability to move enough for people to overlook my other major shortcomings?
She leans forward and covers my hands with her own. “Babe, sleep on it, okay? If you don’t turn up, they won’t be too bothered. They only know to expect an Alex in the morning. If you really don’t want to do this, then don’t. But if you want to give it a try, then I’m behind you all the way.”
Again, my teeth worry my bottom lip. If I wasn’t so desperate for money I wouldn’t even consider it. I start to wonder what the wages are like, the thought of being able to put dollars in my wallet suddenly sounding attractive. But her confidence I can pull it off is surely misplaced. I glance at my sister, not for the first time in my life, wishing I’d won the looks lottery instead. “You really think I can do this?”
“Why not?”
I can think of a hundred reasons why. Including, “I’m not a whore.”
“Of course not!” She looks shocked. “Look, I used to know one of the girls who stripped there—lovely girl, actually. She told me nothing like that was expected. The bikers are protective of the girls, and make sure there’s no touching. Sure, some give lap dances, but none are pushed into it if they don’t want to. And woe betide a man who puts his hands on a girl unasked. She was like you, desperate for a well-paying job, but because of the positive environment she actually enjoyed it. She ended up marrying one of the patrons.”
Our glasses are once again empty. Celine gathers her jacket and picks up her purse. As I copy her actions her words go around in my head. Don’t be stupid. It’s ridiculous. In my mind I ca
n hear Ron laughing his head off.
And I pull myself up straight. What the fuck do I care what my soon-to-be ex-husband would think? Part of the reason I left was to change myself into someone different from the housewife he’d modelled me into, the Stepford wife clone he wanted to keep his house.
I got away. I’m free. I can do anything.
Chapter 3
Dart
Striding into Satan’s Topless Angels, I notice, not for the first time, how sleazy the joint looks by day, when all the overhead lights are on, casting their glaring white light on the shabby velvet sofas and red satin chairs covered with stains, the origin of which I don’t want to think of. Table surfaces are pitted and worn with numerous rings left from glasses. The red carpet looks threadbare in parts, and the gold decorations of the curtains framing the stage look gaudy and tarnished. But by night, with the lights down low, the place looks very different. And let’s face it, the men who come here haven’t eyes for their surroundings. No, they just want to see what’s happening on the stage. And as long as we provide the talent, they keep coming back.
Angels happens to be my domain, the one I manage on behalf of my club. Recently we’ve lost a couple of strippers, leaving us short. Candy, I know, didn’t want to go, but her other half got a job up Phoenix way and she moved to be with him. Don’t blame the girl at all, but she was a great loss. A favourite with the customers. We left on good terms, her saying how much she enjoyed working here, and that’s down to Satan’s Devils taking care of our women, whether they be old ladies, club whores, or our employees. Strip clubs which turn a blind eye to some of their more handsy customers lose their best dancers fast. While the girls here know we’re always watching out for them, they’re happy, and reward us by giving their all on the stage. Yeah, it pays that they know we’ve got their backs.
Throwing a nod toward Road, one of our prospects who’s come in early to restock the bar, I glance around at the cleaners doing the best that they can to clear up the mess left from last night. Vacuums are humming, cloths scrubbing at the woodwork, trying to turn this place into something it’s not. But it will be good enough, and will bring in the cash. Money that will make Dollar, our treasurer, happy. And the draw of this place isn’t what it looks like. Fuck, even if it was bright and shiny no one would notice. Our success depends on the girls who strip off. The right ones will bring in the dollars, good tips for them, and more customers through the doors for us.
I’m here bright and early as a result of a short conversation in the Wheel Inn last night when I’d been approached by a woman. At first taken aback, Beef and I had discussed her proposal back at the club. Tucson is made up of mainly whites, with Hispanics coming in a close second. African Americans make up only around two percent of the half-a-million total population. Satan’s Devils is, of course, like most one-percenters, historically a whites only club, and to date, the Angels have had only white dancers. A black girl could add a bit of spice, if she can use that body of hers, of course. And from what I can recall, she was slender and shapely. Alex was her name, and that’s who I’ve come to give a try-out today.
We might have a strict club rule of being hands off—no employee of ours will be bothered by a brother—but we’re only men after all, and when there’s an opportunity to watch a new girl dance and strip, I’m not short of volunteers offering to help with the interview and audition. Today it’s Blade who’s won the honour, and it’s him, our enforcer, who’s currently walking toward me. Well, with all the shit jobs he has to do for the club, he deserves a reward.
“Dart! Beef tells me it’s dark meat on the menu today. Bit of a change from the ordinary?” Blade slaps me on the back as he approaches.
“Thought it was worth seeing what she’s got.”
“She stacked?” He holds the palm of his hands over his chest as though his words alone weren’t enough.
I take out my phone and check the time. “You can see for yourself in five minutes.”
“Unless she chickens out.”
Yeah. We get that a lot. It’s one thing to think you can be a stripper, quite another to actually take off your clothes in front of strangers if you haven’t done it before. I realise I’d been so caught off guard being approached as I had, that I’d omitted to query about experience. Shit, I hope this isn’t going to be a waste of my time, and Blade’s.
A bell rings. Road leaves the bar and goes to answer it. Together, Blade and I turn around in expectation. We don’t have to wait long before a woman comes into sight.
Well, fuck me! How I manage not to burst out laughing I’m really not sure. Blade coughs and covers his mouth with his hand. I try and peer around the prospect to see the other girl who’s surely coming in behind, but the only one entering is the one that’s causing me to almost lose my shit.
Oh fuck!
“Is that her?” Blade asks incredulously, his eyes opening wide. At my shrug, he suggests quietly in my ear, “Let her down lightly. She looks like a lamb goin’ to the fuckin’ slaughter.”
And that she does. Her mocha-coloured skin doesn’t completely hide the darkening purplish flush on her cheeks, and I can see her shaking from here. Christ! I don’t like hurting women, but there’s no way, just no fucking way. Leaning over to the enforcer, I let him know I agree. “I’ll just have a word with her first, then tell her gently. Don’t think I could bear to see her try and strip.”
“I’ve just had breakfast, man.” As he pretends to make a vomiting sound, I bat Blade’s arm, knowing I’ll be unable to hold it together if he doesn’t stop.
Road brings her over. I look her down, and then a little bit up. There isn’t far to go. Then being polite, I hold out my hand. “I’m Dart, this here’s my brother, Blade. And you are…?”
The little thing answers in a surprisingly husky and sexy voice. “I’m Alex.”
My eyebrow rises. “I was expecting someone different.”
“You spoke to my sister, Celine, last night.” She looks down at her feet.
And she’d misled me. I feel a twinge of anger. If she’d been upfront and honest we wouldn’t be going through this charade now. Blade nudges my arm, and when I look at him, gives me a pointed look. He knows me too well, so I tamp my rage back down. Fuck it though, this is a waste of my time. Did she encourage her sister? Make her ask on her behalf? Thinking back, there were two of them there last night. Though one quick glance had been sufficient for me to dismiss this one. Did they plot it together? And for what reason? Is this some kind of a joke?
I look down at her face, the woman’s biting her lip. She looks nervous. I glance again at Blade, and he just shrugs. Oh fuck it, might as well get on with the pretence. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to strip. All I have to do is talk to her a while and find a kind way to explain why it wouldn’t work. Yeah, like that’s going to be easy.
“So, Alex.” I’m still trying to adjust fitting the name to the girl in front of me, having been expecting her sister instead.
“Yes. Er, that’s me. Er, hi.” She gives a little wave, then drops her hand as though realising it’s not quite the way to greet bikers.
“Well, let’s sit awhile and you can tell us about yourself and your experience.”
As her face drops I realise it’s worse than I thought, and she’s probably never done anything like this before. I indicate the stools sitting by the bar. I take one for myself, Blade pulls up another for him, and we sit, waiting for her to hop up. Which she tries to do. But she’s too short, and the stool’s too high. After a couple of failed attempts, Blade growls beside me, then stands, lifts her up, and plonks her down on the seat. This time I can’t help myself chuckling at her outraged expression.
Blade doesn’t notice. “You a midget or something?”
“The correct term is dwarf,” she replies haughtily. “And no, I’m not, I’m just short. I’m four-foot eleven.”
That’s tiny to me, I’m over a foot taller. But at least she’s spoken up for herself and shown
she’s got spirit. And her words have made me look at her mouth, which is luscious and full, just right for putting those lips around a man’s cock. Her eyes are large, and so dark with gold flecks. Her cheeks are a little on the chubby side, but attractive for all that, and her nose flares slightly. Her hair is tamed with some sort of gel, tight curls framing her face. All in all, she’s pretty enough. At my blatant inspection one eyebrow rises in challenge. Hmm, no shrinking violet here.
Her breasts are enormous, or perhaps they just look out of proportion on her small frame, and her ass seems to hang off the seat. Her stomach is rounded, she looks like a fucking ripe mama. Wiping my hand over my face, I wonder how quickly I can tell her the bad news.
But I’ll go through at least some of the motions so I don’t disappoint her. “So, you want to be a stripper, doll.” The endearment comes naturally, she’s such a tiny thing.
“No,” she replies quite seriously, shocking me. She’s come to an audition in a strip club, for fucks sake. But I come back to myself as she continues. “I really don’t. But I don’t mind being a dancer, and I’m left with few options. I’ll tell you upfront, if you need information to put me on the books, I’ll not waste your time further.”
Blade’s quick on the uptake. “Someone looking for ya, darlin?” He’s gone tense, and if there’s the slightest chance we’d take her on, well, there isn’t, but if we did, we’d need to find out who’s looking for her. Can’t afford to bring trouble to the club.
She gives a little shake of her head, “No. Yes.” Then as she realises her answer’s probably confusing, adds, “I really don’t know. But if he is, I don’t want to be found.”
“Who we talkin’ about, darlin?” Again, Blade gets in first.
There’s a slight hesitation, as though she doesn’t want to tell us. “My husband, ex-husband.”
Targeting Dart (Satan's Devils MC #4) Page 3