I looked up and my smile slowly transformed a grin. “No doubt about it, so we better get going.”
“I think you’re playing with fire.” She laughed as she pulled her front door closed behind us.
I shrugged. “I like it hot.”
Rose and I caught a taxi to a local nightclub. I purposefully avoided the ones I knew were affiliated with the Brothers by Blood. I knew Optimus was going to be pissed I’d taken off tonight without asking first, and I knew he’d send someone to get me. But like fuck, I was going to make it easy on them.
My dress was a stunning shade of pink, a sort of dark fuschia and it fit perfectly to my body. Rhinestones were sprinkled all over the tight fabric which was bordering the sexy side of indecent. I know club girls were always looked at for dressing slutty, in barely there clothing with just a hint of self-esteem, but I didn’t care. I worked hard to keep the body that I had. So what if I wanted to show it off?
I wasn’t going out to pick up a man, my loyalties still lie with the club. But if I was going out, I sure as hell was going to do it feeling good about myself.
“Drink?” Rose called out, gesturing with her hand just in case I couldn’t hear her over the music which was assaulting my eardrums.
“Whiskey!” I yelled back as I pointed over my shoulder. “I’m gonna grab a table.” She frowned at my drink choice but nodded.
I weaved my way through patrons and found a small booth at the edge of the dance floor but still close to the bar. It was a little bit quieter and would allow us to chit chat without having to yell. The place was packed. I couldn’t say I’d ever been there before, but it was nice and the set up was great.
If we managed to get out of the clubhouse for the night, the boys would always drag us to places the club owned. We would have our VIP space and the boys could chill out knowing that no one would mess with them under their own roof. It had been a long time since I’d been out dancing or clubbing without at least one of the brothers nearby. My stomach turned a little. I was both nervous and excited.
“How do you drink that stuff?” Rose asked loudly as she took a seat at our small table. Rose wore a sparkly black halter top and a tight denim mini. It was a simple outfit, but she had paired it with some killer knee-high black boots that laced up the back corset style.
A couple of older men leered as they passed by us, their eyes starting at our legs and moving up our bodies. It wasn’t the kind of look that made you feel sexy, though. Rose and I both shuddered and screwed up our faces causing us to laugh.
I took a swig of my whiskey.
Perfect.
“Fourteen-years-old, foster house number seven.” Rose raised a brow at me. “I was moved from my previous foster home because my foster brother, who I was close to was shot at a party on the wrong side of town. My new foster mother was a drunk and immediately taught me how to numb my pain.”
Her eyes softened. “Oh wow … that must have been hard.”
I shrugged and took another shot from my drink, enjoying the sound of the ice clinking around the glass.
“You’re always so happy. So unfazed by everything,” she said, looking at me curiously. “But it sounds like you had a really shitty time growing up.”
“Everybody goes through shit in their lives. Whether it makes you or breaks you is a choice that you have to make,” I explained with a soft smile. “It almost broke me to be honest. I’m not always strong, but I’ve learned pretty damn well how to fake it.”
All of that was true. I’d found out how to cope and I coped. I grew up in some rough areas, in some rough families, but as long as you put on a brave face and stood your ground, it didn’t matter how you were feeling inside.
Be strong now, break down later.
The only times now that I struggled to control my emotions were around Optimus. He was my kryptonite. He dissolved my strength in an instant, and in that instant I would give him everything. Every part of me wanted to fall and pray that he would catch me. My heart told me he would, but my head wasn’t willing to risk it—the thought of the pain just too much to bare.
“I wish I could be like that.”
I shook my head, my thoughts clouding my atmosphere. “Be like what?”
Rose smiled but it wasn’t the smile I usually saw, it was full of sadness and regret. “I wish I could just not care, but I crave acceptance. I feel like I need to be a part of something.”
“We all feel like we need to be part of something. But you know what, we are freaking amazing just by ourselves and if people can’t accept that then screw them!” I held what was left of drink in the air and Rose grinned at me as she tapped her glass with mine.
There was another glass tap against ours and I looked up to see a gorgeous guy standing next to our booth, a cheeky smile on his face.
“Here, here!” he called.
Rose looked at me and raised her eyebrows and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Can I join you girls or should I just continue to stand here with my drink in the air looking like a douche?”
I looked at Rose, who just shrugged before I scooted a little further around the booth to allow room for sexy McWeirdo. He had dark almost black hair and his blue button up shirt contrasted so perfectly with his olive colored skin. He held his hand out to me and I shook it.
“Chelsea and this is my friend Rose.”
“Nice to meet you, girls,” he said as he shook Rose’s hand also. “My name’s Deacon. Sorry to crash your party. I had to stop. Very inspiring speech. Ever thought of motivational speaking?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Why do that when I can sit in a club and inspire strangers while drinking whiskey. I obviously touched you.”
“Motivational speaking would probably pay more.” He smirked.
I shook my glass, rattling the ice. “Buy me another drink and I won’t send you a bill.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whiskey and …” He looked to Rose, who seemed to be studying him.
She shook her head and smiled. “Oh sorry! Vodka and orange.”
Deacon snapped a salute and headed off toward the bar.
“He’s hot,” she said, obviously admiring his ass as he walked away.
“No kidding,” I said, doing the exact same thing. What could I say, his tight black jeans fit perfectly.
Deacon turned out to be a really nice guy, despite his not so great entrance. He’d come out with a friend, but had quickly been ditched for a girl. I felt bad for him, but he was great company, and damn good on the eyes, so his friends’ loss was our gain really.
“What do you do, Deacon?” I asked as we relaxed into conversation.
“I manage a gym downtown and I’m a sports therapist, so I also work some weekends for a few of the local sports teams, strapping, massage and treating injuries.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s exactly what we’re studying. That’s what I want to do!”
Rose nodded. “Well, that’s what Chel wants to do, I want to more get into personal training and nutrition.”
He laughed. “Should have known, bodies like those only come on sports girls.” He insinuated he was talking to the both of us, but he stared straight at me. I wasn’t one that typically shied away, but the look in his eyes made me blush—profusely. It was sexy and told me everything I needed to know. I had to duck my head, heat creeping up my neck and shading my cheeks.
Rose laughed. “I’m gonna shoot to the ladies.”
I raised my hand in answer.
“Do you mind if I take Chelsea out for a dance. We won’t be long, wouldn’t want to leave you alone,” Deacon asked.
My head shot up.
Rose grinned at me before looking back at Deacon. “Go for it! She needs a little fun.” She winked dramatically before turning and practically skipping off.
Traitor.
I waved my hands in front of me. “No, no. I don’t dance.”
He scoffed and climbed out of the booth, turning around and holding his hand out for
me. “Come on, I’ll help you.” He grasped my hand and pulled me along the seat despite my protests. I stumbled out of the booth, but Deacon’s hands were quickly on my waist and mine went to his chest, holding me steady on my six-inch heels. He wasn’t tall, standing just a few inches above me even with heels on. But that didn’t matter. The guy was hot, and from what I could feel over his shirt, he was ripped.
He began walking me backward, moving me toward the dance floor. I couldn’t help but follow, my body going with the flow he was creating.
“I really can’t dance,” I called over the loud music and grinding bodies.
He stopped suddenly and used his hands to spin my body around so that my back was pressed against his chest. They quickly fell back on my hips and with his body now molded against mine, we began to move.
At first we just swayed—side to side, side to side. It was simple, slow and sensual.
He soon began to twist my hips. At first I resisted. I knew my dancing skills were less than stellar and in no way did I want to embarrass myself. He moved his mouth so it was by my ear, his breath tickling at my hair and sending chills down my spine. “Just let me in, let me take control.”
“Why are you asking for control?” I shot at him, smiling at the tenderness he was showing that I definitely wasn’t used to from being with the brothers.
Part of me wanted to smack him and say, just man up and take what you want. That’s what I knew, that’s what I’d always loved about Optimus. He always went after what he wanted and never sought validation. Deacon’s touch was sexy, it was soft and it made me float. But what it didn’t do was make my legs weak and my heart race. Another part of me thought it was nice, to be finally asked what I wanted. To be respected enough as a woman to be treated with a soft hand, something you just don’t get with rough and ready bikers.
He chuckled lightly, his chest shaking against my back. “I believe it’s called being a gentleman.”
“It’s called being a fucking pussy. Now get your hands off my property.”
I couldn’t stop my fists from clenching as I watched her body move. Chelsea had never been a dancer. It just wasn’t her foray, but it wasn’t mine either so I couldn’t care less how good her dancing skills were. What killed me were his hands on her, directing her, controlling her movements like she was his puppet.
Hell no.
Not one of my girls, and absolutely not fucking Chelsea.
She was mine.
And I was about to remind her of that fact.
“I’ll get the friend,” Blizzard said as he stared toward the bathrooms. I could care less about her right now, but Blizzard has spent the last thirty minutes that we had been there, watching her.
I walked up behind them as she laughed. “Why are you asking for control?”
“I believe it’s called being a gentleman.”
I ground my teeth. “It’s called being a fucking pussy. Now get your hands off my property.”
Chelsea jumped and swiftly moved away from her new friend. Her eyes connected with mine, she didn’t look surprised, more apprehensive, but she kept her mouth closed.
Good.
She knew I was angry and that she shouldn’t stir the pot. She wouldn’t fucking like the consequences. I was pissed. No, I was beyond pissed, I was infuriated.
Chelsea knew what she was doing was wrong. She knew it was against the rules. I’m not sure what the hell was running through her pretty little head, but I was about to fucking find out.
“Chelsea,” I snapped.
She glared at me, anger sparkling in her eyes, but she moved to my side.
I kept my eyes on her little dancing partner and he never took his off me. “Property is something you own, like a car or a house, not a person,” he sneered.
I smirked and folded my arms across my chest. “For you, maybe. Me? I own shit that guys like you only dream of. Including her.” I walked behind Chelsea and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her with me as we moved off the dance floor.
The idiot followed. His eyes drifted from me to her. The way he looked at me was full of hatred and contempt. I’m sure he must know who the club are, possibly what we do. But the stare he was giving me wasn’t just because he’d heard shitty things about the club.
It was like he knew us.
That it was more personal.
“You don’t have to go with him,” he gritted, his gaze finally falling back to her as he followed us.
“Deacon, it’s fine. Just leave it.” Chelsea tried to twist out of my arms, but I held on to her tighter.
“Sorry pretty boy, we aren’t accepting male club whores at the moment.” Blizzard grinned as he strolled up next to us, his hand grasped firmly around Chelsea’s friend’s wrist much to her dismay. “You’ll have to stay.” He continued to drag her past us and I managed to catch the odd curse word followed by his deep throaty laughter.
“Let’s go.” I gripped Chelsea’s hand in mine, but I didn’t miss the sympathetic look she threw over my shoulder at her new buddy, who had actually done the smart thing and not followed us.
“I’ll walk!”
“Like hell you’ll walk,” I heard Blizzard snap. “Get on the motherfucking bike.”
Chelsea sighed as we walked up beside them. “Rose, he’s just going to take you home. I promise you’ll be safe.”
“I’ve never been on a bike before! I don’t even have a jacket.”
Blizz growled deep in his throat before he whipped off his cut and the leather jacket that he had underneath it. I stared in awe as he forced the young girl’s arms through the sleeves of his jacket before shrugging his cut back on.
“There, now can we get the fuck out of here?”
Chelsea glared at him. “Don’t touch her.”
His head shot up and a small smile appeared. “I wouldn’t worry about what I’m going to be doing princess. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”
I saw her flinch.
That’s right, Blackbird.
“Rose, I’ll call you in the morning!” she called to her friend over the loud rumbling of Blizzard’s bike. The girl gave her a quick nod, her eyes darting around furiously before they took off into the night.
I threw my leg over my bike, tossing Chelsea my helmet. She quickly strapped it on and mounted behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist tightly.
As we pulled away from the curb, I caught sight of the guy from the club standing at the front doors watching. Ham had called to tell us that some guy had approached the girls, and at that I’d had enough. Blizzard and I had shown up not long after. The ride wasn’t long, since we’d been hanging out at a bar, a couple blocks over, opting to skip Friday night’s party at the clubhouse. The ride home was short. I could feel Chelsea was uneasy as she sat slightly back from me, instead of being plastered to my back as usual.
Good.
She was about to have a reality check, and this time I wouldn’t be holding anything back.
The clubhouse was still pumping as per usual for a Friday night. A couple of the strippers had come in and there were a few extra hang arounds filling the space. Since Harmony had left with Kit to head to Troy, we had also lost Dana, one of the other club girls. From what I gathered from Chelsea, the girl had become quite close to Shield before he’d died and losing him had sent her down a different path. We never stopped club girls from leaving, they weren’t signed into a contract to stay for a certain space of time. We only had girls here who wanted to be here. It was their choice.
Chelsea followed me through the clubhouse silently. I went straight to her room, opening the door and letting her walk through before I slammed it closed behind her. She flinched but steadied herself before taking a seat on the bed.
“Do we need to go over the rules?” I asked her, folding my arms across my chest.
“No.”
“Maybe we should because apparently you seem to have forgotten how things work around here,” I stirred.
She finally looked
up at me, but instead of regret I saw a flicker of defiance. It was new. Chelsea wasn’t usually one to question or argue a point. Her and Harmony were two peas in a pod, and while we all knew how strong they both were, they knew where they stood in the club and what was expected of them.
“You’re expected to be here at night unless given permission from the President or the Vice President of the club,” I said sternly. “You’re not to go out with other men while you work for the club. And as per our conversation just yesterday, you are not to leave the fucking compound without a man with you. Those ring any bells?”
“There was a man with us,” she muttered.
It didn’t surprise me that she had noticed Ham, I hadn’t exactly told him to be stealthy about his presence. “Do you have any idea how much shit you could have got into? Do you have any idea how much danger you could be in?”
She glared at me. “No, I don’t. For me to know that you’d have to tell me what was going on, and that isn’t information I’m privy to.”
“And you think you should be, right?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“And what makes you so fucking special that, other than my brothers, you should be the one person to be told exactly what’s going on?”
She stood up sharply. “Okay, Optimus. I get it. I’m not special. I’ll just continue to lay around the clubhouse and spread my legs for the men. Awesome. Glad we got that sorted.”
She stripped off her light jacket and threw it across the small desk in the corner of her room before turning to her dresser and beginning to remove her jewelry. With her long hair falling over one shoulder, I could clearly see the stunning blackbird that spanned across her shoulders. Its wings spread out in flight over her shoulder blades, its eyes were fierce and strong, staring straight at me.
The tattoo was originally the reason for the nickname that I used for Chelsea. But it had become more than that. Blackbirds symbolize the dark and the light phases of the moon. And for me, Chelsea has been my light when things were dark. Running a club can be hard. I have to keep my thumb on the pulse at all times, know who’s where, what’s going on and why. Sometimes I’m not even sure where the hell my head is at.
Chelsea (The Club Girl Diaries Book 2) Page 4