by M. N. Forgy
“I have to go,” I reply softly, grabbing the door handle to my Jeep.
Bobby nods, and looks out over the courtyard. “Yeah. Okay,” he responds, while tucking his hands into his pockets. I give him one last look. That blond hair, blue eyes, and his tattoos make me inhale sharply, before I climb in my Jeep and drive away.
Bobby
I walk back into the club and all the guys head into the chapel, ready for a meeting.
Bull and Shadow sit at the head of the table, while I take my usual spot in the middle. I’m still not used to seeing Shadow sit next to Bull. When Locks, our Vice President, was killed, Bull made Shadow his new VP. Shadow deserves it. He’d do anything for this club.
“So, it seems we have been making bank on some of our investments, as you all are well aware of with the payout you have been receiving lately,” Bull states, sitting back in his chair. Shining from the light above, his black hair illuminates some gray slicing through it. I’m sure his daughter Dani had something to do with some of that gray. When she and Shadow got together, it was the biggest shit-storm this club has had to stampede through.
“Can’t complain about getting money,” Tom Cat slurs, a little dazed from the drugs Jessica gave him. We have been paid pretty well lately. I can’t deny that. Got me a nice little blue Chevy heading my way from a man in the Midwest; I’m itching to break her in.
“We need to find a front, a legal business that we can exaggerate costs coming in,” Bull says, lighting a cigarette. “Lip brought it to my attention his uncle was opening a titty bar up the way and he thought we might be interested in the business.” Bull motions toward Lip sitting next to me.
“Who let one of the girls in here?” I tease, looking around the table. We used to have a girl run through here who slept with all the brothers. Her name was Lips; she had big blowjob lips that could suck start a Harley. Our man, Phillip, who goes by Lip for short, was in the joint doing time when she had arrived, and she left right before he got out. I like to give him hell for his nickname though. It’s what I do best around here.
I turn in my seat and grin at Lip, his brownish copper-colored hair all spiked up like he just rolled out of bed and didn’t even take the time to swipe his hands through it, and that damn lip ring sticking out of his lip glaring against the light. He narrows his brown eyes at me, interlocks his fingers sitting on the table, sitting up straighter.
“It’s fucking Phillip,” he clips angrily.
Everyone at the table laughs, pissing Lip off more.
“You got news for me or not?” Bull asks around his laughter.
“Yes, my Uncle Warner is opening a bar a few miles away—”
“That one just built?” Shadow cuts in, his voice sounding just a little too animated for the guy who married the president of the club’s daughter.
“Wicked Birds?” Old Guy questions anxiously, his eyes lined with wrinkles from age, as they rise in excitement.
“Yeah,” Lip answers shortly. “They are hiring girls for the floor today, I believe,” he informs, the tip of his tongue playing with his lip ring.
“I think we should go over there and acquaint ourselves with the potential employees,” I suggest with a smirk.
“You just want some pussy. I saw Doc turn you down out there,” Hawk says, laughing from the back of the table, before hurling into a fitful cough. Nobody here believes I’ve slept with Jessica, and she does nothing to prove she has slept with me. The boys often think I am telling stories when I speak of being with Jessica. It irritates me that she does nothing to admit to being with me at all either, but what am I supposed to say? She made it clear from day one that we were not together.
“She didn’t turn me down, and what would you know about pussy? You haven’t seen any since you came out of one.” Hawk and I don’t see eye to eye on anything. Ever since I was a prospect, he has been giving me hell. But I know he would have my back in the line of fire; he told me when he was drunk and all sappy one night.
Hawk stands up angry, his face scowling, making his lips come up to his eyes because he doesn’t have any fucking teeth.
“All right, boys,” Bull warns. I take my gaze from Hawk and look at Bull, who is eyeing me grimly. I shrug. I live to piss Hawk off.
***
We pull up to the Wicked Birds and see pink etching around the top of the building and around the black double doors. It’s nothing but black brick, and is windowless. There’s a small pink awning poking out from the building sheltering the doors.
I climb off my bike and follow the rest of the brothers to the door where two men in black jeans and black shirts stand guard. Their arms crossed at the chest, their faces are humorless. There is pink velvet carpet lined outside the doorway, with tall hedges in planting pots on either side of the entry.
“Not open,” one of the guards says dismissively, his face directed at the parking lot instead of our direction as he speaks. They are both bald and pale, their arms bigger than the width of my head.
“It’s okay. They are here to meet my uncle, beefcake,” Lip insults, pushing past them. The guy on the right who is a fraction slimmer than the other guard, pulls his black sunglasses down the bridge of his crooked nose and looks Lip up and down before stepping away from the doors, replacing his sunglasses over his beady eyes.
Walking into the club, I’m hit with the overwhelming scent of perfume and beer, mixed with a hint of fresh paint. The lights implanted in the ceiling display three stages with chrome dance poles along with one that holds a cage around it. The carpet is black and the walls are painted a dark, sultry purple.
“My favorite nephew!”
I look over my shoulder and see a tall, bald man standing behind a bar, with a wooden case in his hands. Looking above the bar, I notice a black leather swing hanging above him. Is that a sex swing? I have never played in a sex swing, but looking at that black leather contraption displayed above the bar, the idea of having a woman naked in it makes me want to go buy one.
“Uncle Warner, it’s good to see you. You said you were interested in doing some business with my crew. That offer still standing?” Lip asks, walking toward the bar.
“Of course. I have been waiting for you to bring them by so they can see what I have to offer!” Warner chuckles, radiating his cockiness. He steps around the bar, holding his hand out to shake. Bull steps forward to reciprocate the greeting.
Warner has a white dress shirt elegantly tucked into his expensive-looking jeans, giving off the image of professionalism, but by the look of his huge gold chain hanging from his neck and shaven head, I know better. His eyes are dark and beady, giving a presence of danger, like he’s been through some shit. That alone tells me he’s a ‘take no shit’ kind of guy.
“You got a nice place here,” Bull says, eyeing the joint.
“Of course it is.” Warner crosses his muscular arms across his chest, his comment full of arrogance. “It’s mine, and if you work with me, you will benefit from it nicely,” Warner smiles, revealing a gold tooth.
“Shall we talk business elsewhere?” Warner asks, his smile suddenly fading. I turn away from the guys checking the place over.
“Too Fat. Too Fake. Stay away from the tanning bed and maybe…” A bitchy tone sounds from behind the stage behind us. I walk toward the sound, ever curious, and see a woman with a clipboard hurling insults at a line of half-naked women.
“Maybe one of them will pity you enough to fuck you,” Shadow says, his voice serious. I look over my shoulder and see him smiling wolfishly, glancing at the women.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, eyeing him intently. He folds his left arm across his chest while the right one rubs at his chin as if he is thinking of a clever comeback.
“Doc turning you down in front of everyone at the club,” he recalls.
“Yeah, but you know how she is,” I reply. He knows mine and Jessica’s game; knows how she’s hot and cold because he’s seen Jessica and I together before, making him nosey
as a fucking female, so of course I spilled. Relieved someone knew I wasn’t making up stories.
Shadow chuckles. “Yeah, but maybe if you tell one of the strippers, they’ll feel sorry for you and shit. They look to be up to your standards. They’re breathing,” he jokes, making me smirk.
“Hey, Bobby needs love too,” I reply, eyeing the beautiful women standing in a perfectly straight line.
A voice interrupts my ogling. “Aw, yes. These are the final ladies. Very talented but I can’t keep them all, unfortunately.”
I look over and see Warner standing beside me with the rest of the brothers in tow.
I look the line over again seeing a bunch of sexy women.
“Glad I don’t have your job,” Bull laughs.
To cut any of these women would be a tough job, they’re all beautiful, and look like they belong in a porno.
The lady hurling insults steps back as Warner walks the line of girls, staring them up and down. The women stand straight, some twirling their hair and flashing slutty glances at him. They know who is in charge, and not afraid to play the game to get what they want. I love women like that.
I walk behind him, taking the girls in. A blonde with an eyebrow ring blows me a kiss and pushes her breasts up, making me groan in excitement.
“I wouldn’t say talented, Warner,” the bitchy woman spits.
Warner takes his gaze from the gorgeous talent in front of him and looks at the dark headed woman who is staring down at the women, her face twisted in disgust.
“Birds, how about we give the Devils a show? Show them just how good my girls are,” Warner suggests, his arms held out to his sides, looking at the girls with a smile.
The girls start cheering and bouncing up and down, causing more boobs to pop out than being at a rock concert. I glance over at Bull curious at what he thinks about Warner’s attempt to sell us partnership. Bull leans back and hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, a smirk fitting his face, apparently enjoying the pitch.
“I am still in the middle of clearing out the duds,” the woman snaps, throwing her clipboard to the ground. Her black hair is down, framing her sharp cheekbones. She has on a black bra, outlined in gold sparkly shit, black shorts, and black stockings that climb up her legs. Her ribs are protruding out, and her collarbone is poking out from her body. Definitely not my type of woman, I need a little more to grab on to.
“Can it, Sasha,” Warner snaps, his tone angry and threatening. So the bitch has a name, Sasha.
I look the girls over again, a short girl with dark hair, and honey colored eyes catches my attention. She looks Mexican, and is fucking hot. She has on a black corset with red lace peeking out from her ample breasts. I groan uncontrollably, I need to get out of here before I embarrassingly bust a nut in my jeans.
I see Warner look at me from the corner of my eye. He follows my gaze, looking at the girl I’m eye fucking. He snaps his fingers at her. “You, come here.” The girl I’m eyeing walks out from the line, her eyes holding a seductive energy as she bats her lashes making me ready to bend her over the stage and fuck her.
“Name?” Warner asks curtly.
“Diamond,” she responds, her voice like silk.
“Dance,” he demands harshly, ordering her as if she were cattle.
Her tongue snakes out and licks her red plump lips as she nods in agreement.
“Klines, spin something,” Warner orders, pointing up at the DJ booth behind us.
Diamond strides up the steps leading to one of the stages, her black fuck-me heels clicking against the stage floor.
The club is suddenly filled with Snoop Dogg’s “I wanna Fuck You”, and Diamond immediately grinds against the pole, her body instinctively knowing how to work it. Her fingers play with the black ribbon tying up her corset. As the ribbon loosens, more of that red lacy bra comes into view, making my dick swell. She slides her tanned leg around the pole and does a basic swing around it as the music picks up. She slowly walks around the pole, my eyes trailing up her legs before catching her eyes pinning me down. Her plump ass comes into sight as she prances around the chrome, and I bite my lower lip, but what I want is to bite that ass.
She is sexy as hell. A fucking tease, but hot. She flings around the pole as if she was made for it, every move making my dick that much harder.
As the song finishes, she grabs onto the chrome with one hand and swings herself halfway around it. Her knees bend as she finally makes her way around the pole before landing on the floor.
“Congrats, dear, you are now a Wicked Bird,” Warner cheers loudly, clapping his hands.
“Now, let’s talk details. Shall we?” Warner questions, pointing down a hall with dim lighting. Diamond walks off the stage, winking at me before stepping back in line.
I shake my head at her flirting, and head down the hall. I can’t help but wonder what Jessica would look like naked and sliding up against a pole seductively. The thought makes a growl escape my throat and look into buying a stripper pole for my room back at the club. I walk into the office and sit on a black velvet couch as Warner makes his way behind a big wooden desk with a computer sitting on it.
“So what kind of deal are you offering?” Warner asks, cutting to the chase.
“Depends. What are you looking for?” Bull asks, leaning against the closed door.
Warner relaxes back in his chair, his hands poised in a steeple in front of him. “What are you looking for?” Warner quips, his eyes squinted as he observes Bull.
“I need partnership in the business. That’s it,” Bull says it like it is—no bullshit.
Warner nods slowly, thinking it over. “You send me some of your crew on the weekends for when things get rowdy; let me dip my fingers into your drugs when I want. Give me fifty percent of the cost of what you’re running under the table and I’ll make you a partner,” Warner says calmly. My lips twitch with amusement. He has lost his mind if he thinks he is getting all that.
Bull laughs. “Fuck no.”
“To what exactly?” Warner asks, eyes furrowed in confusion.
“To the fifty percent,” Shadow declares in disbelief. I nod in agreement. That is a shitty offer.
“Okay, what would be reasonable?” Warner asks, shrugging.
A knock comes at the door, interrupting Bull before he has a chance to counter offer.
“What?” Warner hollers, his tone edging on frustration.
Sasha walks in, her red lips pierced with irritation. “One of the girls is not taking rejection very well and has locked herself in the cage,” she states, exasperated.
“Damn it,” Warner curses, standing up from his desk. “I’ll be right back,” he mutters, leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as he goes.
“What do you think?” Bull questions to no one in particular.
“I think nothing more than twenty-five percent,” I suggest, shrugging.
“Why’s that?” Bull asks, looking my way.
“He’s a cover up. A way to hide what we are making under the table. A trade of services would do us better than throwing cash his way. I have seen strip clubs come and go, not to say anything bad about your Uncle Lip, but who’s to say this one won’t close in a month leaving us back where we are but with less money to entice a new partner?” I reply.
“Think he will take twenty percent?” Shadow questions. By the looks of Lip’s uncle, favors and drugs wouldn’t be a problem.
“He’s a fucking convict, of course he will,” I scuff.
“He is?” Old Guy asks, looking at Lip for the answer.
“How did you know that?” Lip questions, his eyes furrowed.
“Just the looks of him. I can tell,” I reply bluntly.
Warner comes back into the room, nearly slamming Shadow against the wall with the door. “What the fuck, man?” Shadow snaps, pushing the door away.
“Sorry about that, and for the interruption. Now, where were we?” Warner asks, sitting behind the desk.
“Percentages,” Bull
reminds him.
“Right, so what are we thinking?” Warner questions.
“Twenty percent, drugs, and a few of my men on the weekends,” Bull offers. Warner rests his elbows on the desk as his eyes furrow in concentration. Just as I think he is going to reject the offer, he smiles, revealing his gold tooth.
“Deal.” Warner stands, his arm held out straight to shake Bull’s.
“Deal,” Bull repeats, shaking his hand in return.
3
Jessica
I grab my clipboard from the counter looking at the patients still in the emergency room from the wreck. My vision’s doubling from the exhaustion the day has held.
“Been a madhouse in here today,” Doctor Meldon says, stepping up beside me.
“Hey, Doctor Meldon,” I reply. He’s been here all day from the looks of it.
“Would you stop calling me that? Call me Shane,” he demands, his head tilted to the side, annoyed.
“Fine. Where is my resident? These cannot be right,” I state, flipping through patient files that are half-ass filled out.
“We’ve got Debra,” Shane answers hesitantly. I look up and see his brown eyes shine as they meet mine. His dirty blond hair is combed over, and his defined cheeks hold a five o’clock shadow. I can’t help but look him down. His arms are toned, but not muscular, and with his blue shirt tucked into his scrub bottoms, my hands twitch to untie them. My cheeks stain from the thoughts drifting in my head.
“Did someone say my name?” Debra asks, walking up to me. Her face is flushed red and she has stray hairs everywhere. She is the most disorganized resident I have and a giant pain in my ass. Last week, she almost killed a patient because she failed to read their allergy chart. Which is something you learn to do as a ritual with a patient on day one. So her ass is on probation and doing my paperwork, for now.
“Fix these,” I snap, piling the folders in her arms.
“I will,” she replies with a shaky voice as she walks away.