We arrived at the bar; all dressed to the nines. For a change, I didn’t have to take fashion advice from my stylist tonight. I had dressed in slim dark jeans and a copper-glimmering crop top. I’d styled my long gold hair so that they fell in soft waves around my shoulders and I went for a more smokey makeup for the night. I didn’t have to adhere to the “nice girl,” “sophisticatedly dressed” actress look tonight.
Just as we were entering the bar, I heard some giggles behind me. My friends Cameron and Fiona turned to look, just as I heard a girl’s voice.
“You are Ensley Adams!”
I caught the look of jealousy in Fiona’s eyes when I turned to face a girl who was my age and bubbling with excitement. I tried not to think about what Fiona was thinking in that moment.
“I am. I’m surprised you recognized me!” I exclaimed, putting on my public-eye smile for a fan.
“Of course, I did! I just watched your show and then saw you on Mcfarland’s Late Night show,” she giggled, and I smiled some more.
“Would you mind if I took a selfie with you?” the girl asked, throwing excited looks at her friends who had gathered around her now.
I looked over my shoulder at Fiona, Cameron and the others. They were standing by the door of the bar with their shoulders slumped, already looking bored. I threw them a look of apology and turned back to the girl who had already gotten her camera ready.
“Of course. Where do you want me?” I asked, and the girl and her friends gathered around me. I smiled at her phone and the flash nearly burnt my eyes, but I didn’t drop my friendliness. They had a million questions to ask me, and I knew that my fans were my biggest asset.
I hugged some of them, shook their hands and was just about to break away and walk back to my group when an older woman intercepted me. She must have been in her mid-forties and behind her was a shy looking man who must have been her husband or her date for the night.
“Would you mind taking a photo with me too?” the woman asked, looking sorry for interfering with my night. I wanted to tell her that I had to go back to my friends. I could already see a few more people behind her, looking expectantly at me. There was a queue forming! If I agreed to a picture with her, I’d have to agree to a picture with all the others. But I knew, I couldn’t turn her away. The fact of the matter was that my career depended largely on how my fans perceived me. Just talent alone wasn’t going to ride me through the storm of a Hollywood career.
“I won’t mind at all. What’s your name?” I spoke to the woman as she put her arm around me. The man she was with was getting ready to take the photograph.
“Louisa and I love your show!” she exclaimed, and we laughed together as the cameras clicked.
As predicted, Louisa wasn’t the last one to want a photograph. I was intercepted by at least a dozen more people who wanted photos taken or autographs and I felt overwhelmed by all the attention. I must have been standing at the door of the bar for at least half an hour, interacting with people who wanted a few seconds of my time and I didn’t want to turn them away.
When the last person presented a business card for me to sign on the back of, I quickly backed away, waving at the others who continued to take pictures and smile.
I almost fell through the door of the bar, slightly relieved that I had managed to get away and at the same time, pleasantly on a high from all the attention. This was just the beginning, I knew there were lots more where that came from.
However, as much as I looked around the place, I couldn’t find Cameron or Fiona or any of the other girls. Had they just left the bar without telling me? Were they really that jealous of my newfound success?
I tried to not rile myself up. These were girls who were struggling to reach the position I had already reached. Who knew how I would behave if I were in their position? I let out a small sigh. None of them were really my best friends anyway, they were just like-minded people who I’d connected, a new city when I was trying to make a name for myself.
Instead of checking my phone or calling one of them, I decided that this was probably exactly what I needed. If they didn’t want to support my success, then that is fine with me. I started walking towards the bar so that I could sit there and have a few drinks by myself. I didn’t need the company of people who were envious of me when I could very well entertain myself.
“I’ll have a vodka martini, please,” I called out to the bartender, as I took a seat.
Chapter 5
Thorn
It had been two days since Church was last held, and none of the guys had come up with an idea we could use to make the club “go legit.” Neither had I, so I couldn’t just blame them alone. All our heads were wrecked.
I’d spent the past two days thinking over every possible way out, but my mind kept coming back to the same. We needed to get Enzo and the others out of prison as quickly as we could. We needed to sort this shit out.
But first, before we could do that; I needed a break, from Pomona; where we were based. I needed to get away from the club and my brothers because everybody was in a bad mood. I needed to clear my head, so I could start thinking straight again. Enzo was right, we had to focus on keeping the club on track, but I just couldn’t find a way to do that.
It was a Saturday, and all the members of the club were drinking at our bar. Feeling frustrated, I jumped on my bike and rode till I hit downtown LA with all its traffic. Within fifteen minutes of being stuck on the 110, I was already cursing myself and my decision to ride out here. When I saw a discreet bar in the corner, I swerved my bike, parked it at the door and stormed in with helmet in hand.
This was definitely not one of my usual haunts. It seemed to be a swanky uptown place that was full of LA hipsters and people who went out with friends so that they could have their pictures taken together. At the point, I didn’t care though. I needed a drink.
I walked past a group of women who were gathered together so they could take a selfie. I shook my head as I walked towards the bar. More curses followed. I shouldn’t have left Pomona in the first place. I should have stuck with what I knew and where I felt comfortable. This was not the sort of place for me.
I sat down at the bar and ordered a neat whiskey. I glared at the bartender so he would hurry up, and also because I knew I was already getting a lot of looks from people because I was dressed differently from them.
The guy handed me my glass, and I gulped it down in one swig. I slammed the glass down on the bar and looked up at the bartender with bleary eyes.
“Hit me again,” I hissed at him like it was a threat. The guy went scurrying away to pour me another one, when from the corner of my eye; I sensed someone looking at me.
I looked over to my side, to see a beautiful woman, perched on one of the bar stools. She was sitting several feet away from me, out of my earshot. I had caught her looking, and at that moment, the tops of her cheeks had gone red, and she quickly looked away from me.
There was no denying that she was blazing hot. My eyes traveled from her face, down her body, to her neatly crossed long legs as she sat. She was wearing fashionable black leather boots which she casually swung. I could see that she was trying hard to pretend like she didn’t know I was looking at her.
She had perfectly sized luscious breasts, stretching the thin fabric of her flimsy blouse. Her arms were long and slender and bare. At her wrists were copper colored bangles, and they tinkled together as she moved her hand to pick up her martini glass.
I followed her every movement. The way her dark lips smacked against the edge of the glass, how some strands of her spun-gold hair fell over her forehead as she took a sip. She was a fucking Goddess and I was the last man she would ever go for.
I looked away from her, and just in time because my second drink had arrived. The bartender hung around in front of me like he was hoping I would give him the nod of approval. I took a sip of my whiskey slowly this time, and I gave one nod to the guy. It was his queue to walk away, which he did and I was le
ft alone again.
I hadn’t looked back at the woman yet. She was hot stuff, and on any other night, I would have walked over to her and hoped that she’d follow me to the bathroom stalls in the back. Tonight, however, I had too much on my mind. I had the club to worry about, and Enzo and my brothers in prison.
The fact that four of my brothers were dead now was a thought that I had pushed way back in my head. I couldn’t mourn their deaths just yet, not properly anyway. This shit we were in right now, had to be sorted out first.
Running my hand furiously through my hair, I tried to concentrate on the drink in my hand and ideas for our club to get away from the ATF heat.
I must have gotten myself pretty lost in my own thoughts because I hadn’t noticed when a guy had walked up to the woman I’d been drooling over minutes ago. It was only when I heard his loud voice some distance away from me that I looked over and saw him.
He seemed like a native in these surroundings, and perhaps the perfect match for this glamorous woman. He was flirting with her, and the more I looked, the more I couldn’t decide if she was flirting back. Either way, I had spent a good few minutes staring at them talking, and it was then that I realized that I was actually jealous.
I hadn’t even spoken to her. I had barely even looked at her, and yet somehow, as she spoke to this other guy, I could feel rage and jealousy pumping through my veins.
Chapter 6
Ensley
I noticed him from the moment he walked into the bar because he looked nothing like someone I had met in real life before. Sure, living in LA, I had seen bikers around the city but only from afar. Never had I seen one up close like this before, and I was gawking at him like he was an exotic animal in my living room.
There was no doubt about the fact that he led a lifestyle that was very different from my own; a biker lifestyle. If the helmet he was carrying, tucked under his arm, wasn’t a dead giveaway-the leather cut he had on and the tattoos crawling up his arms were.
I tightened my legs together as he walked towards me. I was sitting with my legs crossed on the stool; my body turned slightly sideways so that I had a clear view of the door. I could feel a sudden clenching of muscles in the pit of my stomach as he walked near me.
I could see the sour expression on his face as he walked past groups of giggling girls and light-weight drunk guys. He looked like someone who would win any beer chugging contest hands down.
It wasn’t just the bad-boy impression he created; it was everything about his body. The way the muscles on his wide shoulders moved with every step he took. The chiseled structure of his face. How his head was shaved, and a patch of hair on top grew long. There was nothing ‘normal’ about him, and maybe that was exactly why I was so drawn to him.
I could feel my cheeks flushing as he walked closer, but he had seen right through me. I was wrong. He wasn’t walking towards me, he was walking towards the bar.
I felt a wave of embarrassment when he sat down on a stool a few feet away from me. He hadn’t even seen me. He didn’t even know I existed! I couldn’t stop staring at him though. I noticed the patch of a Grim Reaper on the back of his cut. The way his biceps moved as he took the glass of whiskey from the bartender.
He was definitely not the type of man I usually went for, but that could have something to do with the fact that I had never met anyone like him before. I was still staring at him, still trying to figure out just how strong he was. If the palm of his hand would fit right around my waist, what it would feel like to have him on top of me. I couldn’t believe I was this bold. Fantasizing about a stranger who wasn’t even looking at me! I felt another wave of heat flush over my body and in that exact moment, he looked to his side and caught me staring.
It was like my breath had caught in my throat. I jerked my head away from him, embarrassed and excited at the same time that he had noticed me staring. I had watched as he’d chugged down his whiskey in one go and then asked for another. He wasn’t the world’s most polite man, but it didn’t matter to me. All I could think about was how strong and devastatingly hot he was.
While I kept my face firmly turned from him, I could sense him looking at me now. It was his turn.
I didn’t dare to look at him. Although, I was racked with curiosity about whether he liked what he saw. Just like he wasn’t my usual type, I was pretty sure that I wasn’t his usual type either. I was probably too blond, too well covered in clothes, and drinking a vodka martini. I was stereotyping him by imagining him with a girl in fishnet stockings with her breasts spilling out of a leather bikini top. His eyes were still on me. I could feel his gaze searing into my skin; even from this distance.
And then, just as suddenly as he had turned to me, he had turned away.
I realized then that I had been holding my breath all this while. I released with a deep sigh and bit down hard on my bottom lip. I wanted him to look at me again, but he didn’t seem like he was going to. I stole some looks in his direction and saw that he was immersed in thought. He was already drinking his second whiskey and just like I had predicted-I was the last woman he’d be interested in, in this bar.
“You look like a martini sort of girl,” I heard a voice beside me, startling me out of my thoughts. I blinked rapidly to adjust my gaze and turned to find a different guy standing beside me.
There was nothing wrong with him, except that he wasn’t the man in the leather cut.
“Excuse me?” I said, barely finding my voice to say anything to him.
“I said that you look like a martini sort of girl,” the guy repeated himself and leaned closer to me, to make himself heard over the loud house music.
“I know what you said, I just don’t understand what it means,” I said to him with a smile. He had kind of disappointed me by not being the biker guy, but that was no reason for me to be rude to him.
He stepped back and looked me up and down, clutching his bottle of craft beer in one hand.
“You know, career woman, out on her own on a Saturday night,” he said, and tipping his head to one side, he took a sip of his beer. As annoying as what he said was, I was relieved that he hadn’t recognized me. I’d had enough of signing autographs and taking selfies with strangers for one night.
I smiled at him and turned away, hoping that he would get the hint that I didn’t want to have a conversation.
“Am I right?” he continued, and stifling a sigh, I looked at him again. He was typical of this kind of neighborhood. Beanie on his head, jeans tighter than mine, flannel shirt. I had to bite my tongue before I asked him where his skateboard was.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that. Yes, I have a career as most women do, and yes I’m out alone on a Saturday night; which is pretty obvious given that I’m sitting here alone and it is a Saturday night,” I said, keeping the smile intact on my face. I knew that he was just trying to make flirtatious conversation, but I wasn’t in the mood.
He raised an eyebrow at me and stepped closer, which I felt was a little too close for someone who was trying to chat me up. I said nothing though and took small sips of my martini.
“You look familiar, have I seen you somewhere?” he asked, and I shrugged my shoulders.
“Doesn’t everyone in LA look familiar?” I asked, and he threw his head back and laughed like I had said the funniest thing in history.
“I’m Murray by the way,” he added and stuck his hand out at me. I had to put my glass down on the counter so that I could shake his hand.
“Ensley,” I said, and when he held my hand, it lingered longer than necessary, till I had to gently pry mine away. On any other night, I might have welcomed and even enjoyed Murray’s company, but not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to be left alone and with my own thoughts about my sudden change in lifestyle, and drooling over a handsome stranger who didn’t notice me.
“That is a strange name,” he said, leaning close to me again. He was peering at me like he was waiting for an explanation of my name. The guy who I was
sure drank Kombucha for all three meals. I knew exactly what these trendy LA types were like, and he was calling me strange!
I shrugged my shoulders dejectedly at him again.
“What can I say? I have a weird name I guess,” I said, and he threw his head back and laughed again. I had no idea I was even being funny.
“Okay, how about I buy you a drink and we can discuss the meaning of your name a little further?” Murray said, and without waiting for a response from me, he indicated to the waiter to bring me another.
This wasn’t funny anymore. I felt like this guy was coming on too strong and now I regretted even encouraging him a little.
“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to leave soon. I don’t think I have time for another drink,” I said, in as apologetic a fake voice as I could manage.
Murray looked at me again, his lips pouted exaggeratedly.
“Don’t be like that, beautiful, you’re going to break my heart,” he said, and a weak laugh escaped my lips.
I tried to slide off the stool, but he was standing right in front of me, blocking my path.
Chapter 7
Thorn
The guy had a loud laugh, and there was something that the woman was saying to him which made him throw his head back and laugh even harder. I wasn’t sure why I was feeling this jealous. I hadn’t even noticed her till I’d caught her looking at me, and after that, my attention had turned to my own thoughts. What was I jealous of? I didn’t even know her. She wasn’t my type, and I wasn’t hers.
But the more the two of them talked, the harder I stared at them.
I still couldn’t decide if she was enjoying his advances. This guy, with his beanie, unlike me, seemed more her type than I would be in a million years. He was fashionable and hip, drinking what looked like craft beer in a bottle and probably making intelligent political jokes. He seemed like the sort of guy whose company someone like her would enjoy. However, I couldn’t get this nagging feeling out of my gut that she wasn’t thrilled by his advances.
Fox (The Road Rebels MC Book 4) Page 44