by Jemma Bell
As uncomfortable as I am in this setting and can feel the unease from lack of control clawing at my throat, I stand with my hands on my hips. I give off an air of aggravated annoyance. I use it to cover my true discomfort. I’ve gotten good at it over the years. I can feel Static at my back. He’s not touching me but I know he’s there.
“Your membership has been revoked. Please leave my club immediately.” River states without turning to face me, no emotion in his voice.
“WHAT?!?!” I shout. My back straightens, arms going rigid down my sides, hands fisted. “What do yo-”
River cuts me off. “Rule number seven. Leave now.” Sonuvabitch. His tone still holds no emotion. It’s cool, neutral, giving a sense of indifference.
Rule Seven: Membership can be revoked without notice, at any time, for any reason. Club Black is not required to provided reason.
Fucking Static, Carver, whoever the fuck he is. I pivot around on my heels and slam my shoulder into his as I pass him. He might be tall at around 6’ 3” but I’m not that much shorter than he, at 5’ 10”. I stomp down the stairs and head for the door. I know Static – I guess Static is no more since he terminated his membership – is behind me, but no way am I stopping to talk to him.
I reach for my car and wrench the door open. My blood is boiling and I’m about to explode. As I’m about to climb in his word stops me in my tracks, “I told you, you were terminating your membership here. You are mine Brooklyn, you need to realize that.” His words only add fuel to my already burning fire.
I stand back up. Carver may have been able to get my membership terminated but he doesn’t get me. Slowly, I saunter toward him as he stands just a few feet from the back of my car. Throwing a little extra sway in my hips and a seductive look on my face, I make him think he’s getting what he wants. A smile of satisfaction graces his lips. He thinks he’s won. I place my hands on his bicep before running them down his arms seductively, letting my finger tips draw imaginary circles on the way. Methodically, I lean in like I’m going to whisper in his ear. He smiles knowing he’s won the ultimate prize. In reality, it is me who wins tonight. Instead of whispering sweet words in his ear, my hand slides down his hip to his groin and wraps around his junk, tightly. Before he realizes what I’ve done, I use this leverage to pull him closer to me. He grabs my wrist with both hands, not tight enough to hurt. Carver tries to pry my hand off of him but my grip is too tight. He growls as he grits his teeth in pain.
“Fuck off, Static. I’m not yours. The only way I’d ever be yours is if I say so, not you.” I hiss his club name as if it’s diseased. Gently, I kiss his cheek and pull back. It only takes seconds for me to accomplish my goal. He doesn’t react. I’m betting I shocked him by not bowing down like he expected. Turning around, I head for my car and home. I might have just lost my club, but I think I’ll sleep well tonight. This round goes to me.