Shooting Dirty

by Jill Sorenson

  She didn’t want to dance for this one.

  Janelle thought about grabbing Tiffany for help, but she was on the other side of the bar, hustling a businessman in a dark suit. Kevin would get mad if Janelle interrupted her. He’d been in a foul mood lately and she needed to stay on his good side. Maybe this Jester person just wanted to leave another message for Ace.

  Stomach churning with dread, she approached the table. Her usual routine was to paste on a smile and invite the prospective customer to accompany her to the VIP room. Touching his arm or hand worked well. Getting him away from his table was key. Some men wanted to show off for their friends. Others expected her to sit down and entertain the group for free, like a party favor or a sexy decoration.

  She couldn’t force a smile for Jester. Her practiced spiel stuck in her throat as she surveyed his crew. The stocky young man who’d been with him at her trailer was there, along with two more she didn’t recognize.

  Jester studied her with interest, his dark gaze skimming her short skirt and bare midriff. Although he appeared relaxed, even amused, she wasn’t fooled. He hadn’t come here to see topless women. He waved two fingers at her, urging her closer. She had to lean in to be heard above the loud music.

  “It’s my boy’s birthday,” he said, slipping her a twenty-dollar bill. “Show him a good time.”

  Janelle accepted the money and straightened. The man Jester indicated was young and well built, with dark hair shaved to the skin on both sides of his head. A patch on his leather vest said Rex.

  The birthday boy rose to his feet, saying something to his friends that made them laugh. Janelle hooked her arm through his and led him across the floor, glad to get away from Jester. Rex was tall and good-looking. Young, but not college-aged. That wouldn’t make her job any easier. It was more difficult to dance for someone she might have considered an eligible bachelor outside of the club. Handsome men were a reminder of her loneliness.

  Janelle nodded to the VIP room attendant and they continued inside. Tiffany and her businessman were in the first booth. She was straddling his lap. Rex stopped and stared, distracted by the sight. Tiffany lifted her hands to her breasts and toyed with her silver bikini top, almost revealing her nipples.

  When Janelle nudged him, Rex snapped out of it and moved forward. He took a seat in an empty booth, glancing at the sign on the wall.

  No cell phones. No cameras. No nudity. No touching.

  “Hands on the armrests,” she said, beginning her performance. She went through the motions and found her rhythm, drifting into dancer-space. It was the same combination of moves she always used. Bend over, wiggle, remove top, unzip skirt. He didn’t try to grope her. He just watched her body, seeming vaguely uncomfortable.

  He wasn’t a strip club regular.

  Most men liked breasts, so Janelle tugged the cups of her bra down as far as the nudity rules allowed and jiggled for him. She finished her routine by kneeling between his legs and smoothing her palms up his thighs, making a sexy mouth. His hands flexed on the armrest and an erection strained his fly.

  Mission accomplished.

  She stood and fixed her clothes. Rex didn’t get up, for obvious reasons. He might not know he was supposed to tip.

  “How about another dance?” she asked. “A double?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Two girls at once.”

  His gaze darkened with interest. After a short deliberation, he fished a few dollars from his pocket. “Maybe next time.”

  Janelle walked him to the doorway. Although she’d planned to return backstage, Jester made a swirling motion above his head, indicating that he wanted another round of her services. Rex gave her an assessing look. Would she play along or run away?

  Shit.

  Feeling uneasy, she allowed Rex to escort her to their table. As soon as they arrived, Jester rose from his seat and grabbed her arm. “You’re going to do me now,” he said in her ear. “I want to see some cunt.”

  Janelle had heard this crude request before, in these exact words. It was never pleasant. She usually explained that Vixen was topless-only, and there was no nudity in the VIP room. That was the county ordinance for clubs that served alcohol.

  She knew Jester didn’t give a damn about the law, so she didn’t bother to inform him. A little voice inside her head whispered for her to just do him and get it over with. Giving him what he wanted was safer and easier than fighting. She could drift.

  Hang in there.

  “No,” she said, jerking her arm from his grasp.

  His brows shot up. “No?”

  She wasn’t going to hang in there, or drift away, or get it over with. Not tonight. “I won’t dance for you.”

  He frowned at her response. “What the fuck? This is a titty bar, not a beauty pageant. You don’t get to say no.”

  “I just did.”

  Stepping forward, he wrapped his hand around her arm again. “We came for your ass. You can either show it to me in that back room, or I’ll drag you out to the parking lot and we’ll take turns fucking it.”

  When Janelle tried to break free, Jester yanked up her skirt and groped her bottom. Camera lights flashed and hell broke loose. Rex jumped to his feet and started a shoving match with another club member. Jester got jostled sideways and abruptly let go of Janelle. She lost her balance and stumbled backward over a faux-leather ottoman. Rex punched a guy, and the guy returned the favor. They fell onto the table together, breaking it.

  Glass shattered and drinks spilled everywhere.

  Bouncers descended on the scene quickly. Janelle ended up soaked in alcohol and sprawled on the floor. One of the other girls helped her to her feet. The bouncer separated Rex and his opponent, who both had bloody noses.

  Kevin showed up after the smoke cleared. “What’s the problem here?”

  “This bitch refused to give me a lap dance,” Jester said.

  Janelle was too stunned to defend herself. She’d never been involved in a bar fight before. None of the customers had ever threatened her like that. The music had stopped and the crowd was silent.

  “She can refuse whoever she wants,” Kevin said. “That’s no excuse to bust up the place. Now get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”

  Jester spat on the glass-strewn floor, his eyes glittering with anger. Some of it might have been directed at his own crew. Janelle didn’t think he’d planned to make this much of a scene. Giving her a dark look, he gathered his friends and they left the club without argument. The bouncer followed them to the door.

  As soon as they were gone, Tiffany accompanied Janelle backstage. Janelle sat down at her station, trembling from anxiety.

  “What happened?” Tiffany asked.

  “He said they were going to drag me out to the parking lot and rape me.”

  “Assholes,” she muttered, rubbing Janelle’s shoulders. “Does this have something to do with Ace?”

  “How did you know?”

  “They’re White Lightning. He’s Dirty Eleven. Or he used to be.”

  Dirty Eleven and White Lightning were rival clubs. Even Janelle knew that much. She’d never been to any rallies, but Tiffany had. She liked living on the edge and courting trouble. “He’s a member?”

  “I think he got kicked out. His girlfriend was the president’s daughter.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. And get this. Jester went to prison for raping her, over ten years ago.”

  “Jesus,” she said, chilled to the bone. The man was capable of doing exactly what he’d said he would. No wonder Ace had been haunting the parking lot, keeping watch. “What if he shows up here again?”

  “Kevin won’t let him in.”

  Janelle hoped that was true, and she was glad she’d moved out of the trailer park. The thought of h
im darkening her doorstep one night was terrifying. “I need a cigarette,” she said, digging through her purse. “I can’t stop shaking.”

  “I’ll text the clubhouse and tell them what happened,” Tiffany said. She grabbed her phone and accompanied Janelle to the break room. “Maybe some Dirty Eleven guys can patrol the parking lot until things cool down.”

  Janelle wasn’t sure about adding more criminals into the mix, but she didn’t have a better solution. Calling the police wasn’t an option. She doubted they’d care about Jester’s threat, and she was afraid to report it.

  While Janelle smoked her cigarette, Tiffany sent a message to someone named Wizard, claiming he’d get the word out.

  “Who was that guy you danced for?” Tiffany asked.

  “Rex?”

  “It looked like he started the fight to create a diversion.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Maybe he was trying to help you.”

  Janelle took another drag of her cigarette, doubtful.

  “What kind of customer was he?”

  “Virgin.”

  A club virgin or first-time visitor wasn’t always a good thing. Some of them had wild expectations and acted worse than regulars. Others were sweet and behaved well. The best ones never came back.

  “I haven’t had a virgin in ages,” Tiffany said. “He was cute.”

  Janelle didn’t tell her that Rex had been staring at her in the VIP room. Tiffany didn’t need any more encouragement to date losers. Janelle finished her cigarette in silence, pondering the sequence of events.

  She hadn’t wanted to dance for Jester, so she’d said no. That was a first for her. It was different from saying no to a customer who broke the rules or asked for a service the club didn’t provide. Jester’s crude comment hadn’t been enough to earn her refusal. If she turned down every guy who used foul language, she’d be a much poorer woman. She’d said no for herself, because she’d sensed his desire to hurt her.

  His reaction had been even worse than she’d expected, but she didn’t regret refusing him. She was glad she’d found her voice. It had felt good to stand her ground in the face of an abusive man and say no.

  Never again. I will not be your victim.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ace was restless after his appointment with Bill, so he drove to Slab City.

  He didn’t feel like going home alone. Not tonight.

  Instead of cruising down the rows of trailers, he parked outside the art garden and walked through the maze of junk on display. Some of the pieces were as big as houses. Some of the pieces were houses. Replicas of houses, made with off-kilter frames, sharp edges and twisted metal parts. Houses with teeth.

  He wasn’t into art, and he didn’t know what the pieces were supposed to represent. The clutter and dysfunction made him sad. He used to want to raze the place. Just demolish everything and clear away the debris. Over time, he’d come to realize that cleaning up the Slabs wouldn’t change the sickness underneath. It would just sanitize the surface and smother the bad feelings, which were better out in the open. Like the art pieces. Whoever had taken the time to make this fucked-up shit had released some demons.

  He wished he could do the same.

  When he first got sober, he’d avoided all of his old haunts. The Dirty Eleven clubhouse, his favorite bars, every liquor store he’d frequented. He’d enjoyed his solitude the way a masochist enjoyed pain. Demolition work was exhausting. Bill had kept him busy with extra side jobs in his free hours. He’d visited Skye. It had been a stark existence, but bearable. Until he met Janelle, and started to want more.

  He didn’t know what to say to her. He couldn’t bring himself to cancel their date. Cursing, he kicked the dirt near an exhibit of broken glass shards. He longed for the things he’d never had. He imagined having a family, and a real home with a room for Skye. Somewhere he could hug her and kiss her good night.

  He missed his friends, even though he’d always been a loner. He missed Shank and Rylan and his old crew. He missed getting drunk and high. It was the only time he’d felt like part of the group instead of an outsider freak.

  His phone chirped with a text message notification. He glanced at the screen, which showed an image from an unknown sender. When he opened the attachment, a photo filled his screen. It was a blurry shot of a woman with her skirt hiked up, getting her ass groped. Although her face wasn’t in the frame, her body language suggested a struggle. Ace recognized the clunky skull rings on the man’s hand.

  It was Jester—with Janelle.

  Mother. Fucker.

  There was a group of White Lightning members in the background, wearing their cuts like they owned the place.

  He strode back to his truck, fury coursing through his veins. Jester had texted him earlier asking for an update and Ace hadn’t responded. He was still mulling over Bill’s strong-arm offer, not ready to sit down with another asshole.

  Now he was ready—to rip Jester apart.

  He sent a quick message to Janelle to see if she was okay. Then he texted Jester: Let’s meet. He waited for their replies, staring at the screen. He pictured Jester and his crew harassing Janelle, maybe even harming her physically.

  “Fuck,” he said, turning on the engine and peeling out of Slab City. As he accelerated toward the highway, he called Jigsaw.

  His former friend answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Ace. White Lightning is at Vixen, flashing patches and causing trouble.”

  “We’re on it,” Jigsaw said, as if he already knew. “Riding out now.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  Ace tossed the phone on the passenger seat, relieved to have backup. He couldn’t take on a White Lightning crew by himself. Even though Ace was no longer a member of Dirty Eleven, he could count on them to protect the girls from the rival club. Vixen was supposed to be neutral territory, but it was more of a Dirty Eleven hangout. White Lightning had their own second-rate strippers at White’s. They weren’t welcome at Vixen.

  He drove fast, tearing down the same stretch of road where Courtney had crashed and burned. He didn’t know why he’d come this direction tonight. Maybe he’d wanted to torture himself with bad memories.

  By the time he arrived at Vixen, the situation was under control. White Lightning was gone. Janelle had returned his text and said she was fine. Jester had sent one cryptic message: tomorrow 2 pm.

  There were several Dirty Eleven members in the parking lot, chilling by their bikes. Ace wasn’t allowed to approach them. The other guys were supposed to beat his ass if they saw him out in public. So far no one had. They all knew about his daughter and his relationship with Bill. Ace’s size and reputation helped. He was too big to mess with.

  He stayed inside his truck, lighting a cigarette. Jigsaw spotted him and walked over to talk. When Ace offered him a smoke, he declined.

  “Kendra made me quit,” Jigsaw said. “I guess it stuck.”

  Ace had met Kendra once, and he hadn’t liked her. But he didn’t like most people. “You shouldn’t start up again.”

  “How’s your sobriety going?”

  “It sucks.”

  Jigsaw wore a ghost of a smile, as if he understood completely. “Those fuckers cleared out before we got here. They were brawling inside.”

  “With the staff?”

  “With each other.”

  Ace grunted in response. It didn’t make sense, but White Lightning members were stupid. They loved chaos.

  “Tiffany said you’re dating one of the strippers.”

  “Tiffany’s got a big mouth.”

  “I’ve heard she puts it to good use.”

  Ace smiled wryly, taking another drag of his cigarette.

  “So what’s the story with White Lightning?
Are they trying to recruit you?”

  He trusted Jigsaw enough to answer honestly. “Jester approached me about a collaboration between clubs, and I wasn’t very receptive to the idea. I guess he decided to come here and apply some pressure.”

  Jigsaw nodded his understanding. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Do you need help?”

  Ace was surprised by the offer. They were no longer brothers. When he left the club, he’d become an enemy, and he didn’t want to involve Jigsaw in his problems. “The girls might appreciate a bit of extra security in the parking lot.”

  “Done.”

  He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, clearing his throat. “Bill told me you guys buried Shank’s cut.”

  “We did.”

  “Do you think he’s dead?”

  Jigsaw arched a brow at the question. “You tell me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rumor has it that you killed him.”

  Ace’s blood turned to ice. “Who said that?”

  Jigsaw didn’t reveal the source, but Ace figured it was Bill. There had been friction between Shank and Wild Bill before he disappeared. Bill might have circulated suspicions about Ace to take the heat off himself.

  “It’s not true,” Ace said.

  “I hoped it wasn’t,” Jigsaw said. “Things have changed in the past few months. Bill spends all of his time at the casino. He’s a big player now.”

  Ace stared across the parking lot, considering. The MC lifestyle clashed with Bill’s business aspirations in many ways. Outlaws didn’t care about going legit or schmoozing with the rich and powerful. Dirty Eleven was a grassroots club with no major affiliation. Its members wanted to ride hard, party harder and do a few deals on the side.

  “How do you feel about a collaboration?” Ace asked.

  “Shit,” Jigsaw said, shaking his head. “That’s on Bill. I wouldn’t touch it if I were him, but I’m not him. I’m just a lowly mechanic with a garage to run, a mortgage to pay and a kid to support.”