Lady Sings the Blues

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  The cab honks outside my brownstone apartment. Tree-lined street full of small front yards bursting with lush greenery. Less than a ten minute drive from Wrigley Field. It’s safe to walk everywhere from here. Not all areas of the city can claim that.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m standing out front of Moe’s. Livvy was right, it’s a hole in the wall in a rundown part of town. No trees. No one out walking. Boarded-up, condemned buildings pepper the landscape. It’s kind of depressing, to be honest. Several bikes sit parked out front. She never told me it’s a biker bar.

  “You sure you want in there, sweetheart?” The cabby actually sounds concerned for my safety.

  “I’m good,” I tell him and pay my fare.

  “Don’t seem right. Nice girl like you should be down at Scepter or someplace.”

  “I’m meeting a friend here. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

  He nods and drives away once I’ve closed the door.

  Now or never. I step inside Moe’s and part the curtain of smoke to get a look around. From the smell assaulting my nostrils, tobacco wasn’t the only plant the patrons partook of. Beyond the smoke and alcohol, there’s a third layer of atmosphere, a grease layer so thick I feel it coat my skin.

  Though dark inside, at least two overhead light fixtures hanging dangerously by only the cable connecting it to the outlet, I spot her right away. Just as promised, strawberry blonde hair and a bright yellow tube top sits on a stool at the bar. A bar that yeah, is as biker as the movies portray. More jean and leather clad men than a girl like me knows what to do with. Twice as many of them as there are woman ratio, but those women make themselves count. Bent seductively over pool tables. Rubbing their behinds against the men wrapped around them, helping aim the dart at the dart boards. Giving the green light for a whole lot of bad intensions. Biker babe chic to the max. Yet all I can think about is the chaffing from all that leather. It’s a sight to behold. I’m kind of in awe, still I’m together enough to not let my mouth gape open.

  “Livvy?” I call out.

  She turns, drink in hand, ice clanking against the glass.

  “Elise?”

  I smile.

  So does she.

  “You’re beautiful.” Not that she isn’t, because she is, I just totally didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  She stands and walks over to hug me.

  “House rule,” Bartender calls. “Hot chicks start going at it, I get to watch.”

  “Shut up, Rick,” Livvy calls back.

  “We’re not going at anything,” I tell him. “It’s just we’ve never met in person before. We only know each other from work.”

  “You both do the phone sex thing?” His voice goes up at the end. What, like a girl like me can’t do phone sex? All it takes is a good imagination or the internet when you’re stuck for creativity.

  “Yes…yes…oh yes big boy,” I tease in my best oncoming orgasm voice. I notice several men in the bar quit drinking, playing pool, or talking to take notice. My antics earn me a smile from Rick, the bartender.

  “You know we’re an anomaly, right?” Liv tugs on my hand to get us moving back toward the bar.

  I purse my lips, not knowing where she’s going with this.

  “Most phone sex girls are actually four hundred pound, fifty-five year old divorcées with seven kids, five of which have different baby daddies,” she says, laughing.

  Ah, there it is.

  “You’ve ruined the fantasy forever,” Rick tells her. “So—”

  “Elise,” I offer.

  “Elise,” he repeats. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Whiskey sour?”

  “I see—man troubles?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because pretty things like you only order whiskey sours when they’re trying to forget. Otherwise it’s Piña Coladas and Daiquiris.” He pinches his voice higher to make himself sound like a sorority girl on the last word.

  “Well, Rick. You could say I have men trouble. I just got back two weeks ago from Kentucky. Had to bury my dad. But I couldn’t even stay to do that because of a man I used to know.”

  He stares blankly at me. And blinks. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Me too. Thanks, though. Dr. Manning was a real respected member of the community so…”

  “That your name, Elise Manning?” After dropping several ice cubes into my glass, he pours a healthy pour of whiskey to start my drink. Then he tops it with lemonade. I guess that makes sense, since the other two ingredients are sugar and lemon juice.

  “Very same.” And I slightly bow my head to complete the introduction.

  Rick sets the glass down in front of me where I immediately swipe it from the bar top, swirl the ice around a few times to mix it and then drink the whole thing down at once.

  “Another,” I cough out. “Come on, Livvy. Let’s sing.” Grabbing her hand, we jockey from the stools so fast she almost bites it, that is, tumbles over her feet in those ridiculously high, bright yellow espadrilles.

  We start off entertaining our fellow bar goers with a rousing rendition of Aerosmith’s “Dream On.” Moving next through a couple of Dixie Chicks tunes, “Sin Wagon” and “Goodbye Earl” where instead of singing, “Maryanne and Wanda,” I sing, “Maryanne and Elise were the best of friends all through their high school days…” And when it gets to the chorus, of course it becomes, “’Cuz Beau had to die.”

  Livvy laughs. My words slur as the waitress has been quite attentive. Not one man makes a pass at me.

  “What the hell kind of biker bar is this?” I yell at the men after my last song, the female anthem, “I Will Survive.” They only stare. “I look hot tonight and not one of you has had the balls to hit on me?”

  “You done, Elise?”

  Oh no, no, no.

  That’s so not Bartender Rick.

  “Thanks for the call, brother.”

  This would be when I actually look around at my surroundings and notice what I should’ve noticed when I first walked in here. All the leather cuts with, you guessed it, Brimstone Lords. Under it, the fiery devil head and an Illinois rocker.

  My. Luck. Sucks.

  “Time to go home, Elise.”

  I pretend not to hear him. Pretend not to see him. Liv excuses herself from my side wearing what can be described as a “holy shit” look on her pretty face while I stand shaking my head and wishing A.—I had a firearm, and B.—That I knew how to shoot it.

  While pretending not to hear or see him and contemplating firearm use, I turn my attention as a drop-dead gorgeous man, strawberry blond hair and big brown eyes just like Livvy, only he’s covered in tattoos and has snakebite piercings and gauges in his ears, walks up to her at the bar. “Good to see you little sis. I’ve missed you.” The name on his cut says Bloodhound.

  Why can I never shake these guys? My one female friend up here has ties to the Lords? The universe hates me. It’s official. Hates me. If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again—

  for the one billionth time…

  My.

  Luck.

  Sucks.

  “Raif,” she practically cries his name. “Is it safe for you to be here?”

  “I’m fine, baby girl. Small world.”

  Well at least I know she didn’t set me up. I could never forgive such a betrayal. Beau still watches me, but with the lull in action, I discretely move to the hallway leading to the bathrooms.

  I don’t know how much time passes when the door to the restroom swings open, and Beau strides in. “Can’t hide from me forever.”

  “Was just giving you time to drop dead before I went back out there.”

  “Darlin’, I’m beginning to lose patience.” He keeps stepping forward until I’m backed against the sink. Grabbing my hips, he sets me on top of the basin, pushing between my knees. “How did you think it was okay to wear this?” He slides his hands up the slits on my thighs, completely changing the subject. “Out without your old m
an? There are consequences to your actions, Elise.”

  I’m sorry, what? “Did you hit your head?”

  “What?”

  “Did. You. Hit. Your. Head? Because there are not consequences for my actions. You’re not my old man. I’m not your old lady. And I can wear whatever the hell I like, whenever the hell I feel like wearing it.”

  “Time to go, Elise.”

  “Then go, Beau.”

  “Woman, you’re tryin’ my last nerve.”

  “Yeah well, I was tryin’ to get laid,” I somewhat slur. “Too bad my one friend has assholeiations with the Lords. Guess I should’ve paid better attention. A mistake I don’t intend to make again.”

  “You need to get laid.” Beau turns on his sex voice. “I’ll be the one to oblige.” His hand moves, sliding from my thigh to burrow inside my panties. He gently tugs and twists at the light bundle of pubic hair before those magic fingers find my center. And in finding my center, he pushes down and strokes.

  My head falls back with a long, exaggerated moan I didn’t mean to give him.

  “That’s it, baby girl. Get nice and wet for me,” he whispers while using his spare hand to undo his belt and the button on his jeans.

  While he’s distracted, I strike, kneeing him in the groin as hard as I can. As Beau doubles over cupping his boys, I use the time for my escape. Dashing out of the bathroom I cut back into the kitchen gaining a few odd looks and choice words from the fry cook as it’s a very confined space, and head out the back door. The only way my get-away will allow me to get away.

  It’s not a good neighborhood, but rounding the big, green dumpster carefully, this time making doubly sure not to run into any cuts since I can’t seem to trust anyone, and the universe hates me and my luck sucks, thankfully I see a bus stopped at a stop and make a run for it.

  After paying the fare, I drop down in an empty seat below the window line. We hear yelling and engine rumbles in the distance. The bus driver turns to me and I shrug. I guess that was enough of an answer because he turns back and shifts into drive. That was close. Alone again.

  12.

  Beau

  “Did you see her?” I bellow, stumbling out of the bathroom, still cupping my balls and barely able to stand straight. Jesus my woman packs a bigger fucking punch than I gave her credit for. I didn’t even have time to do my pants up.

  “She get away again, Bossman?” Bloodhound can hardly contain his laughter as he sits at the bar with his sister, who’d incidentally, known Elise all this time, and I never knew. Bad fucking luck there. She’s sexy as hell but doesn’t even come close to my woman.

  “I don’t see anything fuckin’ funny about this.”

  “She ain’t the only snapper in the sea,” Rick, the bartender, calls out to me.

  “Yeah well—she is for me. Which way she go?”

  “Elise didn’t come out this way,” Livvy, Blood’s sister tells me.

  Shit.

  “Let’s ride, baby girl,” Blood says to his sister pulling her by the hand, and we file outside moving toward our bikes. At least we know she’s not with the Horde. It’s not much to console my burning nuts, but it’s something. Damn that woman can be stubborn when she wants to be. Won’t hear me out. I’ve got a side, and I’d like to share it if she ever gives me the chance.

  I mount my ride and just scream into the air. “Uggghhhh!” Then crank the engine to life and rollout. The four of us, Bloodhound, Carver, Chaos and myself, along with Liv of course, who’s straddling her brother’s bike, head back to Blood’s sister’s apartment. She says we can stay as long as we need to.

  We rumble up Lake Shore Blvd. to a high rise condo. Nice digs. Phone sex must pay well. Well enough to get her two parking spaces. Nobody gets two parking spaces on Lake Shore unless you’re shellin’ out big time. So we roll into the attached parking garage. Livvy don’t even own a car. She says she can get everywhere she needs to go by bus, L train, or taxi. We’re able to fit our four bikes in her spots no problem.

  We’re imposing as we stand filling the elevator. Men and women in business suits or clubware wave us away as the door slides open for them at each stop. We hear a lot of, “I’ll catch the next one.”

  Apparently they ain’t used to our kind on this side of the city. Becoming more and more impatient at just about everything. “Jesus,” I complain. “How far up do you live?”

  “Fifteenth floor,” she says casually, completely ignoring the fact I’m being a whiney bitch right now. It’s gonna take fuckin’ forever with all the chumps ringing for an elevator, so I hold down the door close button, allowing us to bypass all remaining floors.

  The whole time I feel Blood’s sister study me.

  “What?” I lash out.

  “So you’re Beau?” I don’t say anything, and she continues. “As in, ‘cuz Beau had to die?” She sings the lyrics Elise had changed. Even I have to admit that was pretty clever, if not that funny.

  I nod. “But you call me Boss or Bossman. Elise is the only one calls me Beau.”

  She bites down on her bottom lip.

  I watch, and I see Chaos watching for an entirely different reason. So I gesture for her to spit it out, whatever she has to say to me to get her to quit with the lip biting, because I figure Blood won’t be too happy with him if he reads what I’m reading.

  “It’s just,” she continues, “She was so angry—what’d you do?”

  “Liv.” Blood steps in, admonishing his sister. “You of all people know how this works. Not our business. Not our place to judge.”

  They’d grown up in this life, their pops a lifer in the Illinois chapter, ‘til he was gunned down in a bar fight. Blood took his revenge but had to leave town to keep the blowback from his retaliation from hitting his sister. Found out all this when he prospected with us, came in about six months after me. The same time as Chaos.

  “You listen Raif, I’m not in that life anymore. And anyway, I wasn’t judging. She’s my friend, or she was until your bunch showed up tonight ruining the fun. I’m so glad to see you, I’ve missed you. But the honest truth is I’m a phone sex girl who grew up in biker culture. I don’t have many friends, and if you’ve just lost me one, I’d like to know why.”

  “You stay out of it,” Blood says. “Boss has it handled.”

  “So then why are you here, again? Simply to pay your little sis a social visit after being gone for almost five years?”

  “He’s my brother,” is all he says for explanation.

  “And this is why…” she whispers, shaking her head in disappointment at not just him, but all of us.

  When the bell chimes the fifteenth floor, I let up from the door close button, and they slide open.

  She pushes past us digging around for her keys in her purse. She finds them once we’ve stopped outside her door.

  “Your keys should already be out and in your hand.” Chaos doesn’t look happy as he watches her. “Any fucker could catch you off guard. You gonna live in the city, Livvy, you need to remember. To be smart.”

  “Wow. Thanks, Dad. Because I haven’t been on my own for years now.”

  “I sure as hell ain’t your dad, but I’m more than willing to spank that ass,” says Chaos.

  “Brother,” Blood warns. He keeps his hands at his side, calmly walking inside.

  “What? I’m just telling it like it is. You show up to the party, expect party favors.”

  “Women…” Blood shakes his head, disapproval radiating off him. “We wouldn’t even be here if Boss could remember that pussy tastes the same no matter where you get it.” Clueless. The man is clueless as a mother-fucker.

  I can’t help laugh. “Then you ain’t tasted the right pussy yet, brother. I’ll do anything I have to, to keep her with me, safe. I gotta jump through hoops to get there—so be it. It won’t last long. She’ll get it. And when she gets it, we can move on to the parts I’m ready to move on to.”

  “You will never find me jumping through hoops for some bitch,” he say
s. “I’m happy to fuck club pieces until I die or my dick falls off.”

  “Careful, Blood,” I warn.

  At the same time Liv says, “Nice, Raif.” And stares down her brother through hard, squinted, pissed off eyes.

  Carver hasn’t spoken this whole time. Chaos just continues to watch Liv. Damn sure hope he thinks with the head on his neck and not the one on his cock. That’s Blood’s sister. Screwing over a brother for a piece of ass—even if she’s as pretty as Livvy—you just don’t. Period.

  She flicks on the light then locks the door behind us after we’ve all filed inside. The place looks right out of the nineteen sixties, the walls are white but with color blocks of brown, orange and green. And the chick seems to have a thing for mushrooms. They’re everywhere. Painted on the walls. Ceramic knick-knacks. A flower vase. A rug.

  But her view kills, an entire wall of windows looking out over Lake Michigan.

  “There’s beer in the fridge if you want a drink.” She pulls me from my thoughts. “Help yourself to any food. I have a spare bedroom, the sofa and love seat pullout into sleepers. But I’m afraid two of you will have to spoon, or someone ends up on the floor. I’ll get blankets.”

  “She’s my sister, so I get a bed,” Blood says.

  “Calm your tits, brother,” says Chaos. “I’ll take the floor. Carver’s been quiet this whole time, so we aren’t denying him, and we’re here to stave off Boss’s impending freak-out if he doesn’t bed his lady again soon. Just remember who’s the bigger man here.”

  Back from the spare bedroom, Liv drops an armful of blankets and pillows onto the floor in front of the windows.

  We stay up drinking beers and stuffing our faces full of nachos Chaos made from fixins he found in her kitchen. I’ve seen that look she’s givin’ him before. It’s the look that says she can’t believe he can cook, that she’s clearly underestimated what the brothers are capable of.

  Yes, we like to party and we like to fuck, but we’re more than that. ‘Course, I know from talkin’ with Blood, those ain’t the kind of men she’d’ve ever seen growing up.