by L. Grubb
When we’re both seated, the Prez scrubs a hand up and down his stubble covered face, concern etched into his features, making my stomach knot.
“What’s going on, Prez?” I ask, unable to hold in my curiosity or worry.
“Seems the Crusaders in Britain have gotten themselves into shit that’s going to be hell getting out of. We’ll be leaving in the morning.” I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he takes a hard swallow.
“What’s going on?” My curiosity winning out. The worrying knot in my stomach growing with each passing minute.
“They’ve been dealing drugs in the wrong territory. It seems a turf war has broken out. An Old Lady has been killed.”
“Shit,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over the back on my neck. What the fuck is wrong with them? They have orders to only deal the drugs in the neighborhood that they rule. How can they be so fucking mind blowingly stupid? My fists clench and unclench as the anger within me swirls like a tornado through my body.
“Yeah, shit.” Prez lays his head on his folded arms upon his desk. He doesn’t usually worry about shit. I can tell by his sketchy movements and the way he won’t look me in the eyes that there’s more.
“You’re not telling us everything, Prez. I’m not a fucking idiot.” I blow out a frustrated breath as I wait for him to look at me or to say something, anything. Fuck, this is bad. I look over to Cobra next to me and see the worry lines on his forehead.
“I can’t tell you everything. You’ll find out when we get over there. Sooner rather than later,” Prez says through clenched teeth. He’s pissed and in turn that makes me fucking angry, frustrated.
“Fine. This conversation is fucking over then.” I stand from my chair and briskly walk over to the door.
Before I open it to walk out, I turn my head back to him. “You should get your priorities checked out, old man. Telling us everything should be first on your list. You’re leading us into unknown fucking danger. You could kill us all.” With that, I walk out the door, slamming it shut behind me.
Too fucking angry to return to the party in the main room, I head to our in-house gym. I need to punch the shit out of the punching bag before I hit someone.
Walking into the empty room, I quickly wrap my hands and take long purposeful strides to the bag in the centre of the room.
I growl as I take the first punch, jabbing the bag hard. Left jab, right jab. I keep going until my body is covered in sweat. I stop once it starts dripping in my eyes, distracting my focus. I slide down to the floor, breathing hard.
Not feeling much better than I did before I came in here, I stand and head to the shower room in the corner.
Its official, I’m completely wasted. Not wasted in a sense that I can’t walk or talk, yet, but in a sense that I feel happy, numb and absolutely crazy. I think me, Alexis, Kristine, Rhonda and some of the club whores have been dancing on the stage for about an hour, and we show no signs of letting up anytime soon either. Most of the Crusader’s MC Brothers have ventured outside after we told the in house DJ to put some of our kind of music on. Not that I blame them. I don’t think you can class The Village People and Taylor Swift manly or biker like. But, fuck, this is the best time I’ve had in a long while.
“It’s like clubbing without all the creeps!” I shout out to Alexis over the music, swaying my hips in time with the beat.
“Are you sure about that? You know what some of these men are like. Some are just as sleazy as the ones in the clubs!” she shouts back at me.
She has a point. Though none of them are allowed to look, touch or even smell Old Ladies in the wrong way; they still do with the club whores. Some of the men are old enough to be their dads. I grimace just thinking about it.
In need of another drink, I grab Alexis’ hand and pull her off the stage with me, indicating the bar as my destination. I bounce my way to the bar’s edge and signal with waving arms to the prospect for a couple of shots.
Placing them in front of us, the prospect gives us a smile and a shake of his head as he stalks off to serve someone else.
“Bottoms up!” I shout, downing the shot, I relish the burn as it trails down my throat, heating my blood more than it already has been.
“Fuck!” Alexis shouts, slamming the glass down on the bar and shaking her head from side to side. “That shit will never get easier. Gross.”
I laugh at her before calling the prospect back over for some normal drinks. Once we have them in hand, we head back to the stage to continue dancing.
“Have you seen Champ?” I ask Alexis, eyeing the room in search of him.
“No, probably outside with the rest of the guys who think they’re too manly for a bit of pop music,” she laughs, looking pointedly at the glass doors.
I snort, I swear this girl gets more hilarious as the night goes on, maybe that’s because we’ve consumed stupid amounts of alcohol, and her filter disappears when she’s been drinking.
As “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus blasts through the speakers, the girls and I scream out in appreciation for the song. Alexis and I used to dance around her living room with this blaring through her sound system when the song first came out, we now have our own dance moves to accommodate the song.
We soon have everyone cheering, hollering and whooping at our ridiculous moves and high pitched singing. When the song finally ends, we take a bow to everyone clapping and laughing. Whether they’re laughing with us or at us is a different matter entirely, not that we’re really bothered.
“Hey, we should have karaoke one night,” I say to Kristine in her ear as we shuffle around through the next song. “Would be so much fun!”
“I would love to see the guys doing that. I’ll speak to Prez about it, I’m sure I can ruffle his feathers enough to agree.” She throws a wink my way before waltzing off the stage and to the bar.
Looking around the room, I still see no sign of Champ, even though most of the guys have come back inside to escape the drizzle that is now falling outside. Worry starts to take place in the pit of my stomach and has me absentmindedly chewing at my bottom lip.
“Everything okay, chick?” Alexis asks me, placing a hand on my forearm, a quizzical look in her eye.
“Yeah, just wondering where the hell Champ is. Most of the guys have come back inside, despite the music.” Still chewing my lip, I take another sweeping look across the room. Nope, definitely no Champ, even if I am seeing double of everything.
“He’ll be fine. Come, Kristine brought over another round of drinks.” She pulls me toward the side of the stage where Kristine has placed a tray of shots and glasses full of God knows what.
“Two shots each, girls, and any drink of your choosing, but I’m not telling what’s in any of them.” A sly smirk crosses her face as we all crinkle our faces at the possibility of what the drinks could be. Screw it. I slug back my two shots and randomly grab a glass that looks like brown lemonade.
Taking a healthy swig back, my face screws up as the burn of the Amaretto trails down my throat. A full body shiver takes over me as it settles in my stomach. Disgusting.
“Ugh!” I shout out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I hate Amaretto.”
All the girls laugh at me waving my arms about while my face screws up tightly.
“Unlucky!” Alexis snorts, tilting her head back and draining her drink. “Vodka.”
I hold my nose between two fingers and pour the remainder of my drink into my mouth. This time the burn isn’t so bad; thanks to the previous swallow numbing my throat.
Jason Derulo’s “Want To Want Me” comes on over the speakers, and we all scramble about, placing glasses anywhere we can. This song is my jam. One of my all-time favorites.
Singing the words out loud, I swivel my hips from side to side while waving my arms in the air like a lunatic.
We dance for the next few songs before deciding our feet need a rest. We climb off the stage, heading for the patio doors for a little fresh air when a hand clamps around my
arm. Turning my head slightly, I give whoever it is a powerful scowl before realizing it’s Champ.
“Where the hell have you been, handsome?” I demand, turning to face him fully and placing my hands on my hips.
“Gym. Needed to let off some steam. Having a good night?” he asks, trying hard not to laugh at me.
“What’s so funny?” I screech at him, irritation flaring through my body.
“You’re pretty drunk, aren’t you?” He bites his bottom lip, fighting to keep his laughter in.
“Maybe. It’s called having fun with friends. You should try it sometime,” I scoff at him, shrugging out of his hold and continuing my journey to the backyard.
Breathing in a lungful of clean air, I close my eyes and relish the rain hitting my face, effectively cooling me down.
“Why are you in such a shitty mood, Lauren?” Champ says from behind me, exasperation clear in his voice.
“Because you disappeared, and I didn’t have a clue where you were, no one did. After what happened with that whore, what do you expect me to think?” I tug at my hair, frustrated with this conversation.
“Firstly, I’m not gonna cheat on you, Lauren, so get that thought out of your head right now. Secondly, do not speak to me like the way you just did in front of the Crusaders Brothers again,” he tells me with stern look on his face.
He looks at me with something close to contempt, and my stomach drops. I feel myself sway on my feet as dizziness takes over. Whether it’s from the booze or from the way he’s looking at me, I don’t know.
“Lauren?” Champ questions, his facial features changing into what I can guess is worry.
“Don’t. Just leave me alone.” I put my hands up in front of me in a defensive pose. I turn on my heel and head toward the girls sitting at one of the wooden picnic benches.
“Lauren!” Champ calls out from behind me. I ignore him, after the look he just gave me I don’t want to be around him. I’ve never had a reason to be scared of him before until this moment. I don’t want to be scared with the partner I want share my life with. That’s not how I want to live.
“You okay?” Alexis asks, pulling at my arm to sit next to her.
“Yeah, I’m good. I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumble, leaning my head on my hands in front of me.
“I’m your best friend, Lauren, you tell me everything,” Alexis states firmly, throwing an arm around my shoulders.
I sigh and groan simultaneously, before looking at my best friend who has a comforting look on her face. My stomach plummets, knowing she’s not going to leave this alone.
“Champ just gave me a look of contempt, it was either that or hatred.” There I said it. I look away from Alexis when her face contorts into rage.
“What the actual fuck? What the hell have you done wrong?” she screeches, her arm disappearing from my shoulders and into the air.
“Because of the way I spoke to him in front of the other Crusaders.” I shrug it off. I haven’t the energy to deal with this shit tonight.
How do you go from having an amazing time, to feeling like utter shit the next? I’ve never had so many damn hormones flying through my system at the same time before.
I know I won’t be able to stay mad with Champ for long. He’ll do the puppy dog eye shit that he always does when we argue and flex his muscles a little, effectively turning me into a pile of goo on the floor. He knows how to work me. I just have to keep my distance for a few hours.
“Let’s get another drink. I need to be inebriated enough to forgo the puppy dog bullshit he’ll probably pull later.” I stand from my seat and drag Alexis up with me.
We talk aimlessly about her and Cobra as we walk back inside to the buzzing main room. Ordering another round of drinks, downing them and then repeating, we drift toward the stage.
What I love about the stage? Right in the center, at the front, is a shiny pole. And I’m ready to show my skills.
Alexis sees where my eyes are trailing to, and she fights back a smile ready to take over her face.
Reaching the pole, R. Kelly’s “Cookie” comes on, and a smile dances across my face. Alexis knows the right song to put on for this shit.
I run my hands over the pole, slightly swaying my hips to the beat. Throwing my head back, I grip the cold pole with both hands and lean back, grinding my mound lightly against it. Standing up straighter, I hold the pole higher and jump up, wrapping one of my legs around it tightly and spinning as I go upside down. Working my way down, I lay across the floor sliding to spread myself out. Rolling onto my stomach, I move up seductively until I’m firmly on my feet.
Tightening my grip on the pole, I pull myself up and go upside down once more, spreading my legs into the splits. I work some more moves on the pole 'til the song comes to an end, the room erupting into cheers and catcalls.
Coming out of the zone, I smile and bow politely, laughing at Alexis who is beaming at me. I would’ve never done that in front of everyone if I didn’t have alcohol in my system.
My eyes scan the room quickly and come to a halt when I notice Champ’s scowl marring his beautiful face. I give him a smirk and head back to the girls who are still clapping madly.
“Where did you learn those moves, girl? You’re better than the whores that try and work that thing,” Kristine gushes, amazement lighting her eyes.
“I used to be a stripper in college, plus I still do it for exercise.” I shrug likes it’s no big deal and start moving to the next beat, ZZ Top’s “Gimme All Your Lovin’’.
Before the song ends, I’m pulled off the stage, none too lightly either, by a very angry looking Champ. Fear curdles my stomach and my head goes fuzzy. I don’t want to fear him, I love him. But the looks he throws my way and the grip he has on my forearm, makes me whimper.
Reaching our room, he shoves me in, and I trip, landing face first on the bed.
“Shit,” I hear him mumble by the door as his footsteps start pounding on the carpet. “Are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry, babe.”
He pulls me up until I’m standing on jelly legs. I don’t turn to look at him in fear of the horrible look he will be sporting on his face.
“Why are you trembling?” he asks, rubbing a hand over my left arm, which makes me whimper again.
“Step away from me. Please,” I beg with a shaky voice. He instantly steps away, and I try my damn hardest to compose myself before I attempt to look at him.
“Lauren?” he says softly. “Please look at me.”
I turn slowly, in no hurry to come face to face with someone who just physically pushed me, whether it was an accident on my part or he generally pushed me hard, I don’t know. At the moment, I’m struggling to not have a panic attack.
Coming face to face with him, I see the sorrowful look in his eyes, which makes me feel guilty for dancing in front of everyone who he considers family.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whisper, casting my eyes down.
“Huh? I would never hurt you, sweetheart. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He doesn’t say this in anger, but in frustration.
“The way you’ve been looking at me as if you hate me, as if you want to hurt me…” I trail off, thinking he has the picture. My hands are clenched into fists in front of me, not because I want to hit him, far from it, but because I’m irritated and hurt by his actions.
“I don’t hate you, sweetheart. I love you. But your behavior today has been ridiculous. And dancing on that pole the way you were in front of everyone? Unacceptable for an Old Lady. I’m pissed that you even thought that was okay, knowing you wear my cut.” His voice rises as he goes on, pacing the length of the room and raking his hands through his stylish, short hair.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes as knots form in my belly. My head warring over different scenarios of how this situation can go. I’m hoping he isn’t second-guessing our relationship, but at the same time, I don’t want to be scared to be with him. It’s unhealthy.
After a few minutes of silence
, tears start tracking down my face as I breakdown into loud, unattractive sobs. “I don’t want to be scared of you, Champ.”
His arms are around me within seconds, and my sobs get louder and the steady stream of tears land on his black shirt. I clench my hands into his cut, unwilling to let go in fear that he leaves me for good.
“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll work this out. I don’t want you scared of me either, there’s no reason to be scared of me.” He hangs his head as if in shame, though I see his slight frown marring his forehead.
Guilt tears through me at thinking of being afraid of him when I know he’d never hurt me. Not intentionally anyway. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears stinging my make-up covered eyes. “Just, please, don’t look at me like that again.”
He raises his head, his baby blues staring at me, shining with sorrow. “I promise, I won’t. I didn’t even realize I looked at you in any way at all. Honest.”
On wobbly legs, I move slowly toward him, and I reach my hand out to stroke his soft cheek. Tilting my head to the side, I study the contours of his face. This high cheekbones, chiselled jaw covering in perfectly styled hair, his straight nose and light blue eyes. This man is the epitome of hot.
A small smile flits across his mouth as his eyes flick between my eyes and my lips, his eyes darkening with heated desire. My panties grow wet, and I clamp my thighs tightly together to ease the sudden ache.
“Why are you suddenly looking at me like you want to devour me? Seriously, your looks change so quickly, it gives me whiplash,” I say, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile.
“I can’t help it. You bring out emotions in me so rapidly, I give myself whiplash,” he replies quietly before his lips crash to mine in a mind-numbing kiss.
His hands fist into my hair, pulling me at an angle that suits him better. Walking me backwards, he slams me into the nearest wall, pinning me with his hips; his hard erection pushing into my belly.