by Burke, Dez
I keep the numbers of the girls I like well enough to see again in a bowl in my kitchen. Sometimes if I’m feeling horny and keyed up late at night, I’ll pick out a number, give her a call, and have her come over for a quick fuck. When I don’t ask them spend the night, they always act indignant and pissed off like they didn’t know the score beforehand.
No matter what, I never make the mistake of letting them find out my cell phone number. It only took me a few times to learn my lesson about that the hard way.
“What are u doing?” they’ll text first.
Then “where R U?”
After the third unanswered text, they’ll start with the, “R U OK? Call me! I’m worried.”
Screw that needy shit. The last thing I want is a woman texting me all day long with constant updates. My rule is after three text messages, I block her number.
Cut the bitch off, just like that.
Except now I’m wishing I had broken my own rule and given Trish my cell phone number last night.
Damn it.
Worry tightens in my gut. What if something bad has happened to her? How would I even know? I should have handled things better with her somehow.
Relief hits me when I spot her working at a busy location on the other side of the bar. Roger has her set up again as a beer tub babe. He’s a smart businessman and knows a good thing when he sees it. She probably sells more beer than any other girl in the place.
I check out her outfit. Damn! She looks totally fuckable in her white shorts and red polka dot bikini top. I notice she’s still wearing the cowboy hat, except tonight she has on white tennis shoes with lacy socks instead of the leather boots. To me, she looks even sexier than the night before.
She bends over to grab a beer out of the tub of ice, intentionally giving the customers a good look at her ass. If she were my old lady, I wouldn’t let her do that shit.
Not for any amount of money.
I meant what I told her about keeping that spectacular view all to myself.
“Let’s go grab a good spot,” Sam suggests, tilting his head toward the stage where the contest is about to begin. “We don’t want to miss the show. You know how I love chocolate pudding. Maybe Roger will ask for volunteers to lick the girls clean afterwards.”
I laugh, suspecting Sam is only half kidding. Knowing Roger, he might put the pudding-covered girls up for auction to the highest bidder after the contest is over.
“You go ahead,” I say. “I need to check on something first. Save me a place.”
Sam follows my line of vision across the room to Trish. “You mean check on someone? Fuck! Your girl is smoking hot tonight. Too bad you didn’t get some of that ass when you had the chance. I bet she is one nice piece of pussy. Since she’s obviously not interested in you, due to her cutting out before daylight, mind if I give it a shot? I’ll bet you a hundred bucks I won’t strike out like you did. Watch and learn, brother. You’ll see how it’s done.”
Sam takes three steps in her direction before I roughly grab his arm and jerk him back. He bends over laughing.
“Gotcha!” he says, slapping me hard on the back. “You should have seen the look on your face. Jesus Christ, Jesse! You need to chill the fuck out. What has you so wound up tonight? Her? Thought you said she was a shit load of problems that you didn’t have time for. You have a thing for her, don’t you?”
“I said she has problems, not that she is the problem.”
Sam shrugs. “Same fucking difference. Women are a shit heap of trouble. Are you really going to give her the chance to smack you down again? If so, you are a glutton for punishment, brother. It’s a bad idea if you ask me. Life is too short to spend chasing one piece of tail. Look around this room. Lots of options to choose from.”
“Maybe,” I answer. “There’s no harm in giving it one more go. See what happens.”
He looks doubtful at the thought of my success. “Suit yourself, dumbass. Keep in mind there’s lots of available, willing women here tonight. No reason for us to go back to the hotel empty-handed. What’s the point of bike week if it’s not to fuck a different broad every night? Or in my case, two. Maybe more if I get lucky.”
Sam is right.
Why am I wasting my time worrying about a woman I don’t even know? Trish had her opportunity and she blew it. I should consider myself lucky for dodging the bullet with a woman who had issues as deep as hers.
“You, my brother, make an excellent point,” I say. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you. What are you in the mood for? Blondes or brunettes?”
Sam grins back at me. “Is there a new rule that says we have to choose?”
CHAPTER TEN
TRISH
My shift is almost over and there is still no sign of Jesse. I know it’s dumb, but somehow I expected him to show up looking for me. The fact that he doesn’t care enough to drop by puts a damper on my night. He probably hasn’t given me a second thought. In fact, he was probably relieved when he woke up to find me gone.
What good is a girl who won’t put out?
No good at all.
Especially to bikers who like their women pliable and willing. I wish I could explain to him why I left in such a rush. Unfortunately, there’s no way I can tell him the truth about what is going on between me and the Liberators. If I mention one word about Big Roy to anyone, I will be putting both myself and them in danger.
I wouldn’t do that to Jesse.
All I can do is push him out of my mind. Thinking about him isn’t doing me any good at the moment, and there are plenty more important things for me to worry about, like money for groceries and having a roof over my head to start.
I redo my ponytail and check out my tip jar for the umpteenth time. At least the tips are good tonight. For the most part, the customers have been tolerable too, except for a few who whispered crude dirty jokes in my ear. I giggled right along with them as if I thought they were hilarious when I really wanted to knee the guys in the balls.
All part of my job though.
Some bad behavior is only to be expected after the bikers have been knocking back drinks for hours. Even if those drinks are considerably watered down according to the bartenders.
I smile at Jessica as she walks past carrying a heavy tray of drinks. She rolls her eyes and nods toward the stage.
“Thank God the pudding contest is almost over,” she says. “Those girls better be getting paid lots of dough for what they’re having to put up with. I wouldn’t roll around in that nasty mess for a whole boatload of money.”
“That’s for sure.”
Between customers, I glance over at the stage to see what’s happening. Two bikini-clad women are pretending to wrestle while slipping and sliding on a layer of dark chocolate pudding.
It’s all for show, and they’re not very convincing. I have to admit it is pretty hilarious to watch. Especially knowing the two girls are sisters and have been practicing their wrestling moves all day.
One of the sisters yanks the other’s hair, who screams for effect. To get even, she picks up a handful of the gooey pudding and smears it all over her sister’s big breasts. The crowd around the stage goes crazy.
“Show us her tits!” a man yells. “Rip off her top!”
The girls are struggling to keep it together and not laugh. When one falls out of character and giggles, the other smacks her so hard on the butt that it leaves a bright red mark.
“Oh yeah! Give it to her! Smack that juicy ass!”
Of course the men would love the rough stuff. Whatever the girls are doing seems to be working, so I guess that’s all that matters. I hope Roger is paying them well. After watching for a few minutes, I’m just thankful it’s not me up there being degraded and rolling around in dessert.
My eyes land on a tall, dark-haired man standing two rows behind the stage. Snuggled close beside him is a blonde girl with long hair extensions trailing down her back. His tattooed arm is thrown casually over her shoulders.
Jesse!
So he is here after all, and he didn’t even take the time to find me.
Now I’m pissed off.
Realistically, I don’t have any right to be mad since I was the one who walked out on him without an explanation.
Still, it stings a bit.
Actually more than a bit.
He could have at least asked me why I left without saying goodbye. I could kick myself in the butt. I should’ve known Jesse wouldn’t waste any more of his time on me. A few hours later and he’s already moving on to platinum blondes with fake boobs.
The type of girl I can’t stand.
The blonde giggles up at him and leans closer, melding her body close to his. An urge strikes me to run over there and yank her long hair extensions right out of her head. Bet she wouldn’t look so pretty then.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a loud voice snarls, startling me out of my thoughts.
I whirl around, and my heart drops at the sight of my brother. When did he show up?
“Ty! What are you doing here?” I ask.
He reaches into the tip jar and pulls out all of the money.
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing? Getting what is due me, that’s what. Did you really think you could just walk out on Big Roy like that? You are an embarrassment to me and stupider than I thought. He sent me here to bring you back. Said you needed to be taught a lesson.”
Bring me back?
“What do you mean? I’m not a prisoner, for God’s sake! I can leave anytime I want. I thought you would be glad to get rid of me. All I’ve heard from you lately is what a burden I am to you. So now, I’m not. I’m out of your hair for good.”
Ty lets out a humorless laugh. His hand snakes out and grabs my jaw.
“Nobody, and I mean nobody, walks out on Big Roy. The Liberators own you now. What part of this equation don’t you understand?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JESSE
For the past hour, I followed Sam’s advice by flirting with the ladies and downing never-ending shots of tequila. I’m doing my best to have fun and it just isn’t working. Time after time, my eyes wander across the room to search out Trish.
I wonder if she has been watching for me too.
Who knows?
The girl is too damn hard to figure out. I’m not sure I have the time or patience to try.
When I see her glance my way, I throw an arm around the girl standing next to me. I don’t know her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Instead of pulling away, the blonde looks up at me and giggles.
It was a dick move even for me, and I don’t know what made me do it. Guess I wanted to gauge Trish’s reaction.
Her face drops when she spots me. I can’t tell if she’s disappointed to see me or upset about another girl hanging onto my side.
I’m already regretting my impulsive action when a customer approaches Trish. He looks vaguely familiar. Something about the way he moves or his haircut.
I can’t place him. I know it will bother me until I figure it out. Too bad he isn’t wearing a leather cut. The patches would tell me immediately which motorcycle club he rides with.
While I’m racking my brain trying to remember where I’ve seen him, he casually reaches into Trish’s tip jar and takes out her money.
What the fuck!
I drop my arm from the blonde’s shoulders and start pushing my way through the crowd of men packed in like sardines around the stage.
“Hey babe! Where are you going?” the blonde calls out after me in a confused voice.
I ignore her and keep moving.
So this must be the guy, the man who left bruises on Trish’s arm.
Things are about to get fucking real.
He doesn’t have a clue I’m coming for him.
If he did, he wouldn’t be so stupid. I’m still pushing through the crowd when he grabs Trish by the jaw and holds her face tight in his hand. Her expression says it all. She’s terrified.
I’m not close enough to hear what he’s saying. Whatever it is, it will be the last thing the motherfucker ever says to her.
Fury boils up inside me. This man made a big mistake showing up here.
It feels like it takes forever to reach them, though I know it is only a few seconds. Trish sees me right before I wrap my arm around his throat from behind and jerk him up, lifting his feet completely off the ground. Her eyes widen as I squeeze with all of my strength.
He immediately lets go of her face. I apply more pressure. He gasps and pulls at my arm.
“Drop the money, motherfucker!” I yell.
He tries to pry my arm from around his neck. His face is turning red.
“Drop it, I said!”
His left hand opens and the wad of dollar bills fall to the floor. He kicks back at me and struggles to break free. I’m much bigger and stronger, so he doesn’t stand a chance. Plus I’m energized with anger now. I can play this game all night.
“Stop it, Jesse!” Trish yells. “Please stop!” She runs around the big cooler of beer and pulls at my arm too.
Why the fuck is she telling me to stop?
The bouncers watching the room suddenly notice the commotion and three of them rush toward us. One grabs me around the chest to hold me back while the other two wrench my arm from the asshole’s neck.
“He stole her tips!” I yell.
The bouncers don’t let go of me. Instead, they turn to Trish.
“Is that right?” one of them asks.
She hesitates for a long moment then nods without looking at the bastard who robbed her. “Yeah, he took all of the money in my tip jar.”
The bouncers turn me loose and grab him by the arms instead. “Let’s go, buddy. The night is over for you.”
“You stupid fucking bitch!” the guy spits out. “You’re going to regret this!”
The bouncers tighten their grip on him in case he’s thinking of breaking free and going after Trish again. There isn’t any doubt he is angry enough to do her bodily harm given half a chance.
She opens her mouth and starts to reply when Roger comes barging over, interrupting her.
“What the hell is going on over here, Jesse?” he asks angrily. He waves his arms around and points to the stage. “I’m up there on the stage trying to run a damn contest, and I see you and this guy brawling over here like a couple of high school kids. You know I don’t put up with any biker fights in my bar. Not even from you. We go way back, but if you’ve got a beef with somebody, you better take it outside and as far away from my club as you can get. The ‘no fighting’ rule includes the parking lot, too.”
I hold up my hands. He keeps sputtering and I know better than to interrupt.
“I’m not letting my place turn into no damn Waco with motorcycle clubs shooting and stabbing each other. I can’t have that kind of publicity. It’s not worth losing my liquor license over.”
“Calm down, Roger. This isn’t my fault,” I explain. “That asshole stole Trish’s tip money, and I made him give it back to her. By excessive force. That’s all. I’m not trying to start any trouble.”
He glances over at Trish. “Is that what happened?” he asks.
She nods vigorously. “He was only trying to help me out. I’m sorry if it caused a disturbance.”
He still looks doubtful. “My customers know better than to steal tip money. In all of my years running this place, I’ve never had that happen. What’s really going on? Honey, if this guy is your pimp, then I don’t want no part of it. My bar isn’t that kind of establishment. You seem like a sweet gal and all, but it might be best if you pack up your stuff now and leave.” He nods to the bouncers and turns to walk away.
I grab his arm.
“Whoa! Hang on a damn minute,” I say. “Don’t blame her. You’re punishing the victim here. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
He looks back and forth between us. “Ah, shit! I need a cold drink. It’s hot as hell in here with all these bikers.” He takes off his base
ball cap and wipes the sweat dripping off his bald head then signals to the bouncers. “Get that fucker out of here and make sure he never comes back in. That goes for his friends too, if he has any.”
“This isn’t over!” the guy yells back at Trish as they drag him away. “I promise you. You ain’t seen the last of it.” He turns to glare at me. “You either, asshole! I know who you are. You better be watching your back!”
I don’t have a fucking clue what he is talking about.
“Sorry for getting all worked up.” Roger says, clapping me on the back. “The bike rally always makes me a little jumpy. The damn spring breaker kids are bad enough, but at least they don’t want to kill each other. Most of you bikers are carrying guns in your pockets and knives in your boots. I love the money you boys bring in, but damn I’ll be glad when this week is over.”
I try not to smile. He tells me this same story every year.
“You know you love us,” I say. “Admit it. The rally is the highlight of your year. Think of how boring life would be if we weren’t around to liven things up.”
He laughs, and I know all is forgiven. “Maybe you and the rest of your club,” he says. “Some of the other MCs, not so much. They’re all a bunch of assholes as far as I’m concerned. Like that guy.” He points to the man who is still fighting and struggling with the bouncers as they drag him toward the door.
“Do you still want me to leave?” Trish interrupts in a timid voice.
Roger turns to her and sighs. “No, honey, looks like it wasn’t your fault after all. Sorry the bouncers didn’t get over here sooner. I could use ten more of those guys.” He motions to the cash on the floor. “Gather up your money and hurry on back to work. The boys will be thirsty and wanting their beers now that the wrestling contest is over. Jesse, I’ll catch up with you later. And for God’s sake, try to stay out of trouble, will you? At least for a few more days?”