6 months later
“Still nothing?” I balled my fist to stop from hitting Dirk. He didn’t have any news for me. He never did. It’d been nearly a year since I saw her last. Who knew that finding out records on juveniles in the system was so hard? She had a change in caseworkers and no one seemed to be able to give me any clear answers.
“I don’t know, man. It’s like she vanished. I can find her going to a temporary house, and then nothing. Those foster parents said she was quiet and that she was only there for a week.”
Of course, she was quiet. I didn’t start calling her Mouse because she was fucking boisterous.
“Screw this. I’ve given you time to find her. I’m hitting the streets on my own.”
“Brother, you know you can’t just leave. There’s so much going down. Hades will never be cool with that.”
“Then, I’ll leave my fucking patch at the door.”
“You don’t mean that. She’s a kid. You’d turn your back on your brothers for some pussy?”
Whack.
I couldn't help it. My fist was connecting to Dirk’s jaw as soon as he called Mouse pussy. I was over all of these assholes. In the year I’d been with them, I’d seen more fucked up shit than I could stand. My mother was no longer a woman I recognized. I also kept thinking that even if I did find Mouse, I’d die before I let her live among these pigs. I’d seen a few guys gang rape one of the whores. Granted she was a whore, but if a woman said no, then even if you fucked her willingly an hour ago, no still meant no. I would’ve killed them then, if Hades didn't see me getting all pissed off and held a gun to the back of my head. The longer I was with these men, the more I had wished I’d chosen jail. I couldn't take another minute of this.
I tore my patch from my shoulders and stormed out of the clubhouse. “Don’t do it, man. Hades will hunt you,” Dirk hollered after me.
I got a few looks from some of the guys, but that was it. This club was bullshit. No one was my brother here. They made me lose the only woman, besides my Ma who had ever mattered to me.
So, I got on my bike and rode away. If they weren't all too caught up in their own bullshit maybe they’d have come after me right then. As it was, Hades was on a run, and half the club was either coked out, or doing their own thing. Fuck this piece of shit life. Hades made it seem glorious, but there was no brotherhood here. I didn't even flinch at the loss as I rode away.
I’d made a plan to find Mouse. I took the info Dirk had given me and went over it again starting with the caseworker. I rode to her last caseworker’s house. The house was a dump and there was at least five kids running around her yard. She was hard, not a soft bone in her body. I asked about Mouse. The bitch didn't remember her. “I have dozens of kids cross my desk each month. You think I can remember one from a year ago?”
I pleaded with her to remember, I had a picture from the fucking yearbook that I showed her, but she didn’t know and she wasn't her case worker anymore. She gave me group homes to check, but after that meeting, I felt lost. It seemed that my Mouse just disappeared. I rode from one nothing town to the next, searching out group homes, but the truth was, she could be anywhere.
After a year of scouring the entire state of Ohio, I lost hope. So, I lost myself in a hole in the wall bar until I needed money, then I’d find a fight or do what I needed to do to get by. I wasn't always proud of how I was surviving, but I’d do what I had too.
Old Crow and any other cheap whiskey I could find became my Breakfast of Champions. I fucked occasionally, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing felt like the sweet I remembered. I let down the one person I’d made promises too, and fuck if I didn’t hate myself a little for it.
So, I fought, and I fucked, and I found myself so deep in the gutter I didn’t recognize myself any longer. I blamed Hades Runners. I blamed my Ma. But mostly, I blamed myself. Hate was a feeling I let build around my heart. I got a reputation for being cruel. I never let up on my opponents in the ring, and if you looked at me twice, I didn't hesitate to show you who the fuck I was.
Except, the whiskey not only made me numb, at times, it made me dumb. I was set to fight a new guy. A guy, that in the past I’d do my research on, but tonight I was too blitzed and my ego was too big, that I didn’t care.
Shane Dunaway with his blonde hair that fell over his eyes, wasn’t quite as big as me, but he was faster. I should’ve been able to beat him, but the three-day bender I’d been on had me slower than normal. I hadn’t had my ass handed to me by someone so quickly in a long time. When the fight was over, instead of leaving me on the concrete floor, he took me by the hand and helped me up.
“You gotta get your head on straight. Saw you fight at a barn in Hinkley, you were a lot quicker then.”
“Fuck off,” I slurred, the room spinning overhead.
He ignored me and made sure I wasn’t going to topple over. I don’t know what it was that he saw in me that made him take the time, but he threw me in a motel room for days until I was finally dry and all that booze was out of my system. During withdrawal, I went between wanting to kill him and begging him for a drink. In the end, I was glad for his help.
To this day, I watched how much I drank, afraid that I’d fall over the edge.
Shane Dunaway became a brother. A real one. Not like the fake bond that Hades Runners promised me. We rode when we wanted and we fought when we wanted, and eventually our brotherhood of two became four, and then it was eight. Six years later, we started a club that grew to be one of the biggest clubs in all of Ohio. We’d run into Hades Runners and there was always a fight. They were my enemies, so they were my brothers’ enemies. That’s how we rolled. You messed with one of us, you took on all of us.
I never did see my Ma again, as far as I was concerned she was dead to me.
I kept my eyes open for Mouse, but she was a ghost. My life had hardened and I was no longer delusional enough to think that I’d actually see her again. That flicker of hope had long since burned out.
Chapter Three
Charlie, Twenty-Four years old
The lights dimmed as I took my spot center stage. For the next four minutes, I was not a quiet woman. I was a woman with a purpose. I was strong and sexy. I didn’t feel like this on the inside, but up here, I was fierce. I’d been doing this long enough now that my reputation not only made me money, but it drew the crowds.
The boom boom boom of the baseline told me I was close to my cue. I pointed my five-inch stiletto. My calf arched. My hips tilted forward and my ass pushed out. The pole in front of me was cold in my grip. I threw my head forward. My long, sleek, dark trusses covered my face. The moment the next thump hit, the lights flashed on me and I thrust my head backward ignoring the cheers, hoots, and hollers. My hair whipped over my head as I began to move. I swayed my hips back and forth. This was me at least four nights a week. Slowly and seductively, I moved around the pole not giving them too much yet. The round curve of my fleshy ass just barely peeked out from under the small, black skirt. I gave them what they wanted, and they were hungry tonight. So many eyes on me. I turned on the pole, put it to my back, lowered myself slowly and flashed open my legs.
A tease.
I lifted my hands overhead and gripped. With my legs spread, hand over hand, I lifted my entire body higher until I was near the top of the pole where I hooked one leg around the metal and twisted my body. Around and around I went until I neared the bottom of the pole where I arched backward, put my palms to the ground, and flipped my legs off of the pole, all while letting the crowd glimpse the small black fabric between my legs.
I raised up to my knees and undid the first button on my skirt and then another. It was all about anticipation. Boom. Boom. I made them wait two beats before I undid the last of the buttons. As my skirt fell away, the small black triangle revealed almost everything. I crawled to the edge of the stage and collected money. It disappeared in between my breasts and into the string of my thong until I could discreetly drop it into my black satchel I lef
t on stage.
I seductively climbed the pole again, swiveled then turned on it until my muscles burned, and I was upside down. The men were absolutely wild as I righted myself and flung my hair as part of the dance. When every eye was completely transfixed, I went for it. I unzipped the small fabric that covered my breasts. Their fullness, strangled by the top, finally sprang free. Two very small, blue stars covered my nipples, but who was I kidding? The stickers were a requirement, but they did nothing to really hide the fact that I was practically nude.
Green littered the stage. Frank, one of the bouncers, collected my loot while all eyes were on my dance. No one noticed him. This was my show, and he was invisible. I was the only thing they could see. And boy, did I let them see. Modesty was something I gave up a long time ago. Once, I cared about hiding, but you do what you need to do to survive, and then you get on with owning it.
And I owned this fucking stage.
I cupped my breast and gyrated my hips against the stage and I gave these men their fantasy. They wanted to pretend they knew what it was like to be inside of me so, I filled their imagination. Their spank banks would be well fueled. There was power in this seduction. I threw my head back as I pumped my hips against the ground and just as it looked like I was going to come, the lights went dark.
“Damn, girl! I might need to finish myself off after that one.” Marjorie smacked my ass as she sauntered past me on my way to the dressing area. I shook my head as her wild red hair flashed one last time before she turned the corner.
Grabbing my floral printed, Asian style robe from the hook, I quickly slipped it on, then downed a bottle of water, and chased it with a few Excedrin. My head was killing me, and I didn't really want to go out on the floor, but I knew that I didn't have much choice. I slipped on a pair of black Lycra shorts that the bottom of my ass hung out of and a silver bikini top with long dangly silver tassels that caught the lights and reflected them, like my tits were a goddamn disco ball.
“Char,” Dick the owner of The Select Club, whose name was, in fact, Dick-- which was fitting because he was actually a dick, walked into the dressing room. “Got a request for you on table five.” I gave him an irritated look. I hated getting on tables after my dance. They were always too handsy and still way too turned on. The girls’ loved it because they made money, but I did well on stage where I was far away from grabby hands. What I did not do well with was when they pawed me. Dick knew this. He caught my glare and looked at me sternly. “I let you get away with a lot, Char, because you shake your tits like no other, but you need to get your ass out there. Table number five. No excuses. They requested you specifically, and these are not men you fuck around with.”
I nodded because he was right. He usually was good about not making me do shit I didn't want to do, but occasionally he had to remind me of that, and I knew that even though Dick was a dick, he wouldn’t be making me unless it was important. So I strapped on a pair of heels that were an inch shorter than the stilettos I wore on stage and followed Dick out. He moved into the shadows, but I trusted he’d be close by.
The club was nicer than a lot of clubs, and although Dick was a dick, he did take care of his club. He hired experienced dancers, and kept the drinks expensive enough that the clientele ended up being more upscale. I did not mind this, seeing as though I’d worked at other clubs and I didn’t make as much money and too many times people got handsy with me. I either had to quit, or my refusal to do certain things made it so I didn’t last long.
There were two rows of chairs around the stage, followed by free standing circular tables with four chairs around each of them. Beyond those were large posh booths with black suede backs. The lighting was low, but there was enough light that men could easily see each other. Lights rimmed the inside of the table to illuminate the dancer. On the edge of the table was a pole and in the center of the tables, hanging overhead, was a pair of gymnast rings.
Depending on the number of men at the table and the amount of drinks that littered it changed what I would use to perform.
As I approached the table, I put on my biggest faux smile. They were businessmen that reeked of money. Tailored suits, fresh pressed shirts and a mix of expensive cologne radiated off of the men.
Frank approached the table just as I did. He took my hand and assisted me as I climbed on the table. His presence reassured me that he’d be nearby. I made a note to tip him extra tonight. He knows how much I hate these.
The men at clubs like this tend to become just a sea of faces. No matter their size or their dress, they typically are all the same. They like tits, and don’t give a damn about fidelity.
I began to rock my hips, swaying back and forth. There was small rocks glasses on the table, filled with expensive Scotch. The Maker’s Mark bottle was half empty on the table. I was careful to avoid the glasses. A few men sat back in their chairs to watch my show while one man didn’t look at me. He was engaged in a conversation. His body was tight and it seemed that at any second, he could break the man he was talking to. One thing we learn as dancers is that if you sense a situation arising, you make sure you’re safe first, and second to that, you see if you can defuse the situation by distracting the men. This is what I choose to do. I increased my movement, used the rings to swing myself in a circle and bent forward in front of the man so that my feet were planted on each side of his Scotch, ankles and ass to him. I grabbed the pole to steady myself and then very slowly began to rock my hips forward and backward, all while arching my back. It was incredibly sexy and incredibly stupid. I had no idea that catching this man’s attention would be a critical mistake.
Chapter Four Charlie
“Don’t move!” A thickly accented voice commanded as he grabbed hold of my ankle stilling me. His hand was firm. I turned my body and made eye contact. To some, he’d be an attractive man. Dark hair slicked back, narrow nose, strong jawline, tanned skin, those were nice features that would’ve made him attractive, but his eyes, they were black and they were evil. I’d seen a few glimpses of raw, primal, evil in my life, and none of that matched the pure hate I saw. I sucked in an audible breath, as I heard him repeat through gritted teeth, “I said, don’t move.”
I tried to dart my eyes to Frank, but I couldn't see him without moving again. I tightened my hand on the pole and didn't move. The man kept his hand on my ankle, not moving, just gripping me tightly. It didn’t feel warm, it felt powerful, and not in a good way. I didn’t feel like I had much choice and that was something I hated, but it was only an ankle. He wasn't touching me otherwise. My ass was perched out and I was bending forward grabbing the pole. The good news was this man no longer looked like he was going to murder the man next to him. The bad news was that I was in his grip, and being in the grip of a monster sent shivers to my soul. It was something I was familiar with. Better the devil you know, right? Well, I didn’t know him, and as he made me stand there, my self-preservation screamed run. I couldn’t run though, not with my foot planted in place.
Dick was going to owe me for this shit.
The song ended and another began.
“Hands off the dancers,” I heard Frank who was easily two hundred and fifty pounds, and although rumor has it that ‘roids were a major contributor, it didn’t matter because he was a wall of muscle and at that moment, I didn’t care how he got big, only that he was there to save my ass.
“No harm. Just making sure she didn’t tip my drink. The harlot was very close.”
“Yeah well, she’s a professional. Hands off.”
“I’d like her in a room in five minutes.”
My body stiffened. I don’t do rooms, and I could tell he wasn’t going to like no. He released his grip from my ankle, and I looked to Frank to help me down.
“Jewel is available for a room, or Angie. This one doesn't do rooms.”
Frank grabbed my hand as I started to descend, but the man shot his hand out again and grabbed my ankle. “Surely you have a price. Every whore has her number.”
/> I saw Frank’s nostrils flare.
“You move your hand, or I remove it. She doesn't do rooms.”
“Is that so? Is there nothing I could offer that would make you change your mind?”
I took a deep breath, “I’m not for sale.”
His eyes glinted. I hated the way they looked at me, but he released my ankle. A moment later, I was on the ground. Frank positioned me in front of him as we walked to the back.
“I didn’t like that fuck. You alright?” he asked as I grabbed my robe.
I breathed in and then out. I needed to calm myself. I loathed when men touched me, and everything about that man made me fearful.
“I’m okay. I mean he didn’t hurt me, but he creeped me the fuck out.”
Dick stormed through the dressing room. A robe that was on the hook next to the doorway fell to the ground as he moved past. “Why the fuck are you in here? You should be on that table where I told your ass to be.”
Frank stepped slightly in front of me. “No fucking way. I shut that shit down. He was grabbing her and making her just stand there with her ass in the air.”
“Do you know who he is? If Enrico Santos tells you to stand there with your ass in the air, then you fucking do it. What you do not fucking do is tell that man no.”
“Boss,” Frank warned. That was too much and we all knew it, Dick just didn’t care.
I stood there through this exchange, but I didn't say anything. I slipped out of my heels, knowing there was nothing Dick could say that would make me go out there. I pulled a pair of black sweatpants from my bag and pulled them up and over my shorts. Next, I grabbed a t-shirt donned it over my head and then under my shirt I slipped off the flashy top and pulled it out of a sleeve. He could bitch all he wanted, but I was done for the night. The headache in the back of my skull began thumping. I don't even think Dick noticed I was getting dressed until I flung my bag over my shoulder.
Cut Wide Open (A Bleeding Scars MC Book 1) Page 4