by Nicole Fox
I hesitated, waiting for the impact of my words. Though things had been tough for ages now, no one but Smitty and Juan had actually confronted Montengo about our desperate state. It was a gamble, especially after being caught in his bed, and I waited on baited breath for his response. Anger? Or thought?
The two ran very close together in Montengo.
“That’s very interesting,” Montengo started, a reassuring sign. However, just then, there was a knock on the door. Whoever it was didn’t wait for us to answer, for the next second it was opened, and Farrah walked in. A broad grin was painted on her face, and she looked both delighted and savage, as if she was happy about something unpleasant.
“My dear!” Montengo cooed, leaping to his feet. Then, with a single motion, he swept Farrah into the air and then sat down again, with her on his lap. Automatically, she wrapped a hand around his shoulders, and her grin grew, if possible, even wider.
“Hello, boys!” she squealed. “You’re Connor, right? The one who broke old Princess in? My, she could have done a lot worse.”
And she tittered against Montengo’s shoulder. For some reason, I found her words making me angry, but I could not have said why.
“We were just talking about your financial prowess,” Montengo said, nuzzling her. “In fact, Connor here is under the impression that you could really help us out. What do you think, honey cake?”
“Oh, Johnny!” she squeaked, taking a sprig of her rich dark hair and tickling his face with it. “You know how I don’t like talking about such things! I find it so boring!”
“But, Farrah,” I said, surprised. “I thought you’d been going to school for it! That’s what everyone says, anyway.”
“Boring! Boring!” she chanted, sounding more and more like a three year old with every word she spoke. I stared at her in disgust, thinking, Surely, this can’t be Sam Michaels’ daughter? Montengo, meanwhile, looked delighted. He slipped his hand up her body and gave her breast a squeeze.
“Well, you’ve heard the lady,” he said. “Let’s not talk about this crap anymore! Farrah, baby, what would you like to do now?”
“Oh! How about that nice restaurant … what is it? Brick House?”
“Oh, that place is great,” Montengo exclaimed. “Doesn’t she just have great taste?”
I winced, swallowing the pair of them like I’d take a shot of really shitty booze. That didn’t even get you drunk. “Sir!” I insisted. “I really think it’s important we talk about this …”
“Oh, fuck off, Connor,” he said, rising with his lady strung out across his arms. “You know what? You worry too much. Maybe you should go fuck that Princess some more. Calm you down. Come on, Farrah. Let’s go …”
They made for the door.
“President Montengo!” I interrupted, rising to my feet and doing everything I could not to chase them out. “Our finances are in real trouble! Not to mention that Brick House is one of the priciest places in town.”
“Well, then,” Montengo shot back, “the extra money you got from landing those skimmers should pay for it, eh?”
He and Farrah laughed at his wit, and together they strolled away.
I slammed my fist on the table once they were out of sight. “Damn it!” I swore. “This is why we never get anything done around here! His fucking money and his whores …”
I muttered to myself while pulling out a cigarette so angrily that I practically tore it in half. I sat there alone, shaking with frustration, until finally one of his final words registered through my anger: “Maybe you should go fuck that Princess some more.”
Princess! She was at the heart of all this. I knew it! What was with all these strange discrepancies? Was Princess really the stupid, grubbing whore that Farrah described? And was Farrah Michaels, the woman about whom legends were already being built, really the same person as the simpering, greedy, lustful woman who was sitting on Montengo’s lap?
“None of this makes any sense!” I complained aloud, dashing out my first cigarette and lighting another. “I’ve got to go talk to Princess. I’ll make her tell me what is going on!”
Furious, I rose from my chair and went instantly to my office, expecting to see her sprawled out on the floor, looking over my paperwork. I scowled. She wasn’t there. Next, I went to the bunkroom. I knew she didn’t like the place, but where else could she be? I didn’t find her there, either. There was only Leo, spread out on the bed with another one of the Devil’s Wings whores—a fifty-year-old witch who was all we could practically afford at this point. I grimaced and left.
Last, I went back to the president’s bedroom. She won’t be in there! I thought. Not after her embarrassment this morning!
The bed was empty and still rumpled from our adventures last night. By this point, I was losing hope. She couldn’t have escaped! I thought. It’s daylight! There’s Devil’s Wings everywhere!
Besides … I thought about that word. Escaped. I guess part of me had assumed that, after everything, she was sticking around on purpose.
“Fucking bitch!” I swore, ready to go out and hunt her down. “You gonna desert me now!”
I grabbed a gun that Montengo had left carelessly on his nightstand, about to sprint out on my hunt for her, when I heard a voice.
“Connor? Is that you?”
It was coming through the bathroom door.
“Princess!” I exclaimed, seeing her neck-deep in a warm bath of creamy bubbles. She smiled at me and waved me in.
I blinked. A bath? My mind asked stupidly. Aloud, I said, “Okay.”
I shook off my clothes, enjoying the way her eyes watched me the whole time. Before I got in, she asked for a cigarette, and I gladly grabbed two and lit them before lowering myself into the tub. The water was hot and sweet from the scent of soap, and Princess’ hair was piled up in a messy bun on the top of her head. Wow, I thought. She looks classy as hell.
I handed her the cigarette, and her pretty lips closed around it immediately. She smiled, and together we smoked in silence.
This is nice, I realized suddenly. So many women demanded you talk, talk, talk all the time. They never gave you any time alone with your thoughts. But Princess? She seemed content to sit and enjoy the water, and the occasional brush of pleasure as our legs touched. I was glad, for I had a lot to think about.
For the first time, it also occurred to me to wonder what she was thinking.
Chapter Nineteen
Farrah
Soaking in the tub with Connor was nice. We didn’t have sex. I’d like to think it was because he still sensed some hesitancy in me. It also could have been that he looked so supremely distracted. I wondered if his conversation with Montengo was as disconcerting as mine had been with Honi. Judging by the look on his face, it seemed possible.
We smoked and bathed in silence, each absorbed in our own thoughts, but also enjoying each other’s company. Finally, by some unspoken agreement, we both rose at the same time, toweled off, and dressed.
“Wait,” he said, after he noticed me struggling into my torn and filthy outfit—the one, for Christ’s sake, that I had arrived in. “Go look in that closet. Montengo likes his girls looking good, and I’m sure you can find something in your size.”
Suspiciously, I walked over to the closet, which turned out to be a huge, walk-in palace out of any clothes lover’s fantasies. Half of it was dedicated to suits and leather, for Montengo, while the other could have been from Barbie’s Dream Castle. Cocktail dresses, tight-clinging leather, pencil skirts, sun dresses, shoes—you name it, this guy had it to dress up his girls. Hell, there were even a number of costumes: sexy police officers and nurses, things of that nature.
“This Montengo fellow is a weird-ass motherfucker,” I said, plucking a shimmering silver dress suit from the mix. “Half the time, he’s as rough and tumble as any old biker, and then the other half he’s the most pampered prince I’ve ever met.”
Connor shrugged. “Smitty always sayd that’s what happens when a biker is e
xposed to too much pleasure. He goes soft. A good biker, he says, should retire when he gets to that point, so he’s not a drain on the club.”
I raised my eyebrows to him. “You think Montengo is likely to retire?”
“Not while the whores and the liquor keeps flowing, he won’t.”
I rolled my eyes and searched for a pair of shoes to match my outfit. It was hard to find a pair that didn’t have six inches of heel, but eventually I managed to locate a pair of black stilettos that I could comfortably walk in.
“Classy,” Connor complimented, admiring the look. I am slightly ashamed to say that his words made me smile and feel warm inside.
“Now what?” I asked. I wondered if he’d want to fuck me again. In this outfit.
“Now, we go back to my office and keep trying to sort out the finances.”
“Great!” I exclaimed, genuinely excited. “But can we get some food first?”
He laughed, then told me to wait in his office while he swung by a coffee shop for breakfast. Suddenly feeling forlorn with him gone, I settled back down again on the floor—it was better for spacing out the paperwork—and waited, contemplating the Devil’s Wings’ finances.
After about a half an hour, I heard a hesitant knock on the door, making me jump. Connor wouldn’t have knocked, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have done it so softly.
And I knew from personal experience that Connor did nothing softly.
“Come in,” I said, trying to hide the fear in my voice.
A man stepped in, looking at once strong and awkward. It was Connor’s friend—the one who’d tried to warn us about Montengo. He was good looking in a soft sort of way, despite his leather-clad dress. Imagine a side character, dancing in Grease. That was how he looked. Handsome, yes, but not quite as rugged or attractive as Connor.
“Hi, Princess,” he said gently. “My name is Joey. Do you know where Connor is?”
I stood and went to shake his hand. “He went out for some breakfast,” I explained. All my nervousness had vanished as soon as Joey spoke. I sensed immediately that he wouldn’t do anything Connor wouldn’t want him to. And that included fucking me.
“Great,” Joey muttered, looking to the floor. That was when I noticed something in his hands: a beat-up, dirty looking envelope.
My envelope!
“Jesus Christ, Joey! Where did you get that?” I demanded, ripping it from his hands and holding it to my chest before I could contain myself.
He shrugged. “That’s what I was hoping to talk to Connor about. I found it—”
“Hey, Joey. Princess,” someone interrupted. It was Connor. He came in bearing several bags of food. Still holding the envelope, I used my other hand to take one from him. The delicious scent of bacon and maple syrup was evident, even through the bag.
“What’s up?” Connor asked, opening his own bag and taking a massive bite out of what looked like a sausage and egg bagel. My stomach rumbled, and I too set the envelope down on the desk and opened my own bag. I was careful never to let it out of my sight, however.
“Well, I was just saying to Princess,” Joey continued. “Before you guys woke up, I was chatting with President Montengo and Farrah Michaels.”
For a single, stupid second, I looked up as if he were trying to get my attention, and then quickly returned to my meal. It was a lovely little platter of scrambled eggs, bacon, and two, golden-brown pieces of French toast, sealed in little plastic containers. It was probably the best meal I had ever had.
“And?” asked Connor.
“Well, Montengo was inspecting this envelope.” He gestured to it on the desk. “He said it had Venus Williams’ name on it, with a note: For the Devil’s Wings. But when he opened it up, all he found was a jump drive, filled to the brim with gibberish.”
“My aunt … Mrs. Williams had said that it contained the whorehouse’s records. Clients. Payments. Everything. It makes sense that it’s encrypted,” I said, knowing full well that this was a suspicious thing to say.
Joey, however, merely nodded. “That’s what I said, but then Farrah Williams interrupted. ‘No,’ she said. ‘They’re not encrypted. Just corrupted. It’s just computer junk, anyway. Venus Williams always took terrible care of her records.’”
At this, I felt a surge of rage. My aunt? Keep bad records? As if.
“So what did Montengo do?” Connor demanded. He, too, sounded angry. His voice was set in a low growl.
“He said, ‘Okay, baby,’ and tossed them in the trash.”
“He threw them away?” Connor and I gasped in unison. We glanced at each other and saw uniform outrage in each other’s eyes.
“But, those are important!” I exclaimed. “My aunt … Mrs. Williams wanted those records preserved! That’s why she gave them to me … To Farrah.”
My God, it was hard talking about myself as a different person! I noticed Connor eyeing me strangely, but he didn’t comment on my weird lapses.
He stepped forward. “I agree. If we can figure out a way to decode them, they could contain invaluable contacts, plus dozens of blackmail opportunities that would fix the club’s finances in an instant! Why do you think Montengo would be so stupid as to throw them away?”
Joey looked uncomfortable. “You know him,” he muttered. “If his old lady says it, it becomes law. Fuck! He’s the strangest man I’ve ever met. Ready to beat any one of us to a pulp, but if some bitch with a pretty pussy comes along, she wraps him around her finger!”
He glanced at me, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Princess. I know you used to belong to her. But Farrah’s actions make no sense! She’s not acting like the money whiz we’ve heard so much about.”
You got that damn right, I thought, but I couldn’t voice it. I decided then that it was best to stay silent. I might have given something away.
“Well, thank you for rescuing them, Joey,” Connor said, taking the envelope himself. “You did the smart thing.”
“Connor,” he said, casting an anxious glance at me. “I’m nervous. There’s something going on here that we don’t know. I think that Farrah’s keeping secrets, though I can’t figure out what. Or why, for that matter.”
Connor turned towards me. I felt his eyes boring into me like crystal-tipped drills. “What do you think, Princess?” he asked.
I shifted uneasily, not meeting his gaze. At last, I murmured, “As you said, Farrah is now Montengo’s old lady. He trusts her and is treated her with respect. Why would she lie?”
Was that a good enough answer? Joey nodded as if that made sense, but Connor’s gaze lingered on me a little too long. At last, he moved, and let me off the hook.
“Well, for now, I’ll keep it here,” he said, walking around to the back of his desk and opening a drawer with a key he pulled from his pants pocket. He slid the envelope inside, closed the drawer, and then carefully locked it, returning the key to its place. I made sure to note every movement.
Then, suddenly:
Boom!
Connor’s fist connected with the desk. I’d seen that punch hit flesh and knew how much force it carried. I jumped, ready to leap out of reach, and then immediately felt guilty for my actions. Joey, however, calmly stepped forward and placed a hand on his friend.
“I know, Connor. I know,” he murmured.
“It’s so fucking stupid! How could he be so fucking stupid?”
“I know. It’s ridiculous.”
“We have opportunities here staring him right in the fucking face. And he doesn’t take them! Why? Because some new whore’s got her legs wrapped around him!”
I froze. Did he notice what he’d said? He’d called Honi the whore. Could he sense, deep down, what she really was ...?
“We’ll figure it out, dude,” Joey said consolingly. “We’ve got options. The records are still there, and I’ve always go my car restoration— ”
“Fuck your stupid car restoration!” Connor thundered, and then immediately looked guilty. “I’m sorry, man,” he murmured. “I didn’
t mean that. I’m just so … fucking … frustrated.”
“I know, dude. I know.” Joey was now patting Connor on the back. It was very strange for me to see. Up until this point, I had only seen Connor interact with other men in a sort of hierarchy, with people in charge and people below him. But this Joey obviously was his friend.
Perhaps that can be useful, I thought. I nodded to Joey, and mouthed, very clearly, “Thanks.”
Joey smiled.
Just then, we heard a small commotion in the hall. Some helpful Devil’s Wing shouted, “Welcome, President!” And we all quieted, trying to wipe the guilty looks off of our faces.