by B. B. Blaque
At four o’clock on the dot, there was a knock at the door. Gremlin. When I opened it, there was a tall guy with dark hair and really pretty green eyes. He was a Royal Bastard too, and put out his hand to shake mine.
“Hey, I’m Gremlin. You can call me Grem, though. Let’s get goin’ so I can show you around the joint.”
On the way to the elevator, I was givin’ him a good once-over. The first thing I noticed wasn’t what I saw. It was a strange sound I heard comin’ from Gremlin’s vest. I walked a little faster to try to look and saw a guardian bell hangin’ from his vest. Odd place for a bell. I’d learned about how those things keep a biker safe, but they’re usually under the bike, not on a cut. To make it crazier, his was covered in what looked like duct tape. I tried not to giggle. When he kicked his leg over the bike, I realized that he had matching duct tape covered boots.
Welcome to Kentucky.
SNOWBLIND
“It’s about two hours to Evansville. He’s gonna meet us at about the halfway point. In a town . . . if you can believe this . . . called Santa Claus. Then we’ll go hang out and have drinks at the Flaming Gargoyle.”
I leaned against the bike while Crucifix and I fueled up. “That’s a Malevolent MC bar, ain’t it? I’m surprised they’re lettin’ us do it so close to their house.”
Crucifix hung up the nozzle and smiled. “Yeah, it is. You can bet your sweet ass that’s why we’re takin’ the ride with one of the guys first. The old man said we were golden on this. I trust him, but he’s not a moron. We’re gonna look like a few guys havin’ a nice ride, lookin’ for donations.”
Redhook seemed all about givin’ up Brooklyn to us. He’d held out for such a long time and each borough he let go of was a major gift. The Malevolent MC had ruled NYC since Redhook started the club after getting home from Vietnam. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of gettin’ anything back in the day. After his kid, Colt, left the club, there was no reason for him to hold out. He’d been talkin’ about transferrin’ to a chapter in Florida ever since his son got married. That’s when he started sellin’ off pieces of his monopoly. There’d never been a reason not to trust him. He was old school and his word was his bond. Redhook commanded respect, but gave it too.
“You’re road captain. I’ll follow your lead to Santa Claus. I reckon they’re expectin’ an ice storm in July.”
Crucifix pulled out and I was close behind with Tombie bringin’ up the rear in the chase vehicle. I was chucklin’ about a town called Santa Claus for the first five miles at least. It was the perfect place to be unloadin’ a bunch of our Five Point crystal meth. Coy and them didn’t allow any drug dealin’ in their area and we were gonna respect that. On the other hand, the Malevolent wanted to break into the crystal trade and we were more than happy to unload some stuff. All part of good tidings and cheer bein’ spread between the clubs.
We’d brought two pounds of Five Point powder and an ounce of crystal with us hidden in teddy bears mixed in with toys for charities. We legitimately did stuff for all kinds of organizations, but occasionally those good deeds were blurred to cover us on the other side. Redhook had gotten a sweet deal from us. Normally, it’d be $15,000 per pound for the powder, and another $3,000 for the ounce of glass. We didn’t dick around. We’d decided on $30, 000 for all of it to keep good blood flowin’. The Malevolent would have the entire area sewn up fast and need more. Our cooks were always busy and ready for us to sell. The perfect example of one hand washin’ the other.
Butta was sittin’ at a picnic table outside the bar and grille where we were meetin’. He was a big motherfucker and looked like a dang biker Santa Claus. If he hadn’t been wearin’ his Malevolent cut, I woulda thought it was Christmas in July.
“Hey, brother!” Crucifix hugged him and smiled big. “How ya been, man? Missed ya. We haven’t had a Santa for a block party since ya left the city.”
They know each other.
“Been good . . . been good. Gotta tell ya, the change in scenery has done me alright.” Butta was wearin’ a bandana that looked like a Santa hat—red with white that’d been rolled and layered over it. I got a feelin’ he was a funny motherfucker.
“This is my hillbilly sergeant at arms, FOCUS. Our brother Tombie’s already headed to the Gargolye with the toys and shit.”
Butta reached out a huge hand and wrapped mine. He’s like one of the Great Smoky Mountains, even compared to me. It made his whole Santa Claus vibe even funnier.
We didn’t spend long eatin’—just enough to be seen with a guy who looked like Santa, checkin’ on donation boxes in town. He was the perfect guy to be handin’ off toys to—where there’s toys, there’s usually candy. Tombie was bein’ like the dang USPS and droppin’ off their package at the club. We’d be pickin’ up what looked like an empty donation box after we had a few drinks. That box was holdin’ our money.
It was close to an hour ride, but the weather was nice so none of us was complainin’. When we pulled up at the bar, Tombie was sittin’ in the truck snoozin’.
“The fuck you doin’, man? You couldn’t go on in and show some love for the Flamin’ Gargoyle?” He jumped when I yelled and tried to pull his shit together.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I sorta got an accent.” He sat up and opened the door of the truck. “Usually, when people in the south hear me talk it’s followed by, ‘You ain’t from around here, are ya, boy?’ One thing leads to another and I end up in a fight. Except for when I met my ol’ lady. She’s a sucker for a New York accent.”
As I was schoolin’ him about how Indiana was actually the Midwest and not the South, he opened the back door and dragged out the box.
“Yeah, well, wherever it is. If it ain’t in the Tri-state area, it’s the South.” He slammed the door and nodded to Butta. “Long time, no see, ya big cocksucker!”
Family reunion?
Butta took the box of toys into the bar and came back with two more boxes. A small one was wrapped like a present and a bigger one was decorated with ribbon and had red writin’ all over it.
Toys.
Donations.
Stuffed animals.
We hung out shootin’ pool with Butta—havin’ some shots so it wouldn’t look like we dipped in and out to take care of business. It was just the bartender and four of us playin’ teams, until some drunk idiot decided to ruin our fuckin’ day.
There’s always gotta be one.
The inbred lookin’ motherfucker came over and put quarters on the side of the table. He was already holdin’ a pool cue like we were gonna just give up the table to him. Butta had gone to the bathroom and that idiot clearly didn’t realize where he was or hadn’t noticed the big ass sergeant at arms from the Malevolent Evansville Chapter. Boy, he was sure tryin’ to get a read on us.
“Long way from Louisville, ain’t ya? In case ya didn’t know, this is Malevolent territory. Ya done stepped into the wrong bar.”
He swayed back and forth while blinkin’ his eyes. Then he made his first really dumbass move. The moron stepped to me read my cut, and slurred. “FOCUS, huh? Rotten Apple . . . New York City.”
Then he swerved his way over to Crucifix and chuckled. “Oh, and you . . . you Sam Elliott lookin’ son of a bitch, you’re the head honcho. Not such a bright bulb, if ya ask me.”
Without missin’ a beat, he swung the stick and almost made contact with Crucifix’s head. I grabbed the cue and yanked it back. That drunk piece of shit fell backward, I picked him up, and threw him on the pool table. When I cocked back and landed a punch in the middle of his face, I heard bone crackin’ and blood spurted out onto the felt.
“Are you just drunk or are you really that fuckin’ stupid?” I pulled him up and cracked a stick across his legs. He fell like a dang lead weight and his head bounced off the floor. It all happened so fast that by the time Butta was back at the table, it was over.
“What the fuck happened with this low-life?” Butta kicked him and looked to Crucifix. “You do this?”<
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Crucifix downed the rest of his beer and shook his head. “Nah, bro. FOCUS got the scumbag before my head ended up in the corner pocket. Sorry we gotta make a quick exit, but I’m sure you got it handled.”
Butta leaned in to hug me and patted my back. “Good on you, hillbilly! Brother’s gotta watch out for his own. No worries about this guy. We know him and he ain’t gonna do shit about it.”
I still had a couple Jagerbombs on a table and handed one to Butta. “Didn’t mean to fuck up your table, man, but you’re right, I was watchin’ out for my own. Bottoms up!”
Nothin’ was said about business, it was already done and we’d just have to wait for the next order. It sucked donkey dicks that trouble started in their place, but at least Butta was good and no new ties had been severed. It was primed to be a beneficial relationship all the way around—Five Point was expandin’ and we were closer to gettin’ Brooklyn.
The ride back to Louisville went by fast. I was in my head, thinkin’ about everything that happened and ready to go see Nixx debut. We’d missed the six o’clock show, but it was only the first night. I was sure she was still on her best behavior.
She better not fuck up.
I DON’T NEED NO DOCTOR
“Hey, have you seen them yet?” Gremlin kept checkin’ in—or up—on me. I was so bummed that the guys hadn’t made it to my first show. Club business. I know. I know.
It was sorta quiet, not a ton of people, but so cool. The DJ announced me as Nympho Nixx Barritt and let’s get ready to rumble jammed loud backstage before I went on. I wish it woulda been busier because I was able to lose myself when there was a crowd. On the flipside, I got to figure out how to work their big stage alone.
“I just heard bikes pullin’ in a few minutes ago . . . probably them. They’ll know where to find ya.” Grem’ closed the door and I went back to primpin’ for the next show. It was like I had to do a complete turnaround after the first set. The costumes they’d gotten me were all little theme things. The first one was a cop—that just cracked me up, considerin’ the nature of club business. I was plannin’ on doin’ the nurse or devil next. The red sequins would look phenomenal under the lights. I stood there holdin’ each one up in front of me—back and forth—this or that. Then the dressin’ room door opened and in walked FOCUS with a bag of burgers.
“I know ya need to eat, girl.” He tossed them at me and I dropped the nurse costume. “Got your favorite too . . . all kinds of messy and a bucket of sauce on the side.”
You care, ya big douche.
“Thanks! Cheeseburgers are the way to a woman’s heart. Sauce is the way to stay there.” I smiled at him over the edge of the bag. “True story.”
FOCUS pulled out a chair from my make-up table and sat on it backwards. He blew right by my joke. “Saw Coy on the way in . . . said ya did a bang-up job on the first show. We knew ya would . . . How was it?”
He’s got blood on his knuckles. Hmm.
“Oh. My. God! It was so different than the Mounds in the city! Ya know how bored most of them guys pretend to be?” I didn’t wait for him to answer and kept ramblin’ as I ate my burger. “Not these guys! They were fired the fuck up and spendin’ money. It wasn’t even super busy either. I didn’t have to share the stage and it was my choice of music to go with my outfit . . . so cool . . . just so fuckin’ cool!”
FOCUS was rollin’ his eyes and shook his head. “The stuff that excites women kills me. Glad you had fun, though. Did ya have a bunch of guys come over for pictures with ya?”
Coumtin’ the money.
Dollar signs in expensive boots.
“Yeah, a few. Grem’ said there’d be more on the next two shows since they’d be busy.” I guzzled from a glass of water and lit a cigarette. “About Gremlin. What’s his story? He’s really nice, but seems to be in a committed relationship with duct tape. You gotta look . . . cracked me up.”
His head was shakin’ and he shrugged his shoulders. “Not a fuckin’ clue. I know of the guy, but that’s about it. Don’t go askin’ around either. Keep your nose outta business unless they specifically tell you. You know how this square dance goes.”
I jumped from that topic fast and back to my first show. “Oh, did you know it was gonna be totally nude? No pasties or latex like the city. No g-string. As soon as I wanted to whip that baby off, it was gonzo! Before you start bustin’ my chops, I know how to tease. I left it on until the last song, but it felt so crazy to finally take it off, ya know? The only time I was naked on a stage before was when you guys did the Goldie Licks to me.”
What an awesome night!
“Yeah, we knew. You’re bein’ good though, right? No need to rile Crucifix and Coy up and get your ass tossed. Coy, you’ll be able to walk away from, but Crucifix will be right in your face every day.”
“Oh, ye of little faith! I’ve been an angel, I’ll have you know!” I picked up the devil costume and held it up to him with a laugh. “Why do I get a devil, but no angel? I’m a little bit of both and my feelings are hurt.”
FOCUS stood up, grabbed me around the waist, and pulled me in. “Because your devil is what’ll get you in trouble. It also makes you irresistible to those guys.”
I looked up over his big chest and tried to catch those blue-green eyes. “What about you? Which side is irresistible to you? Which side is it that makes you so jealous?”
Don’t be a giant dick.
“I want both.” He actually kissed the top of my head and then tilted my chin up. “Neither is irresistible and you can scrub all that jealousy bullshit outta your head. Girl, I ain’t jealous. I’m possessive. I’m prideful. I’m greedy as all fuck, but there ain’t a jealous bone in my body.”
I pushed away and laughed as I walked back to the make-up table. “Listen to you doin’ all that verbal do-si-do. Stubborn Irish prick . . . you forgot to add that into the laundry list of things you are!”
He slapped my ass, handed me the nurse outfit, and growled. “Get yourself ready. Wear this one ‘cause if ya keep talkin’ like that, you might need a doctor.”
Oh, I’m so skeered of you.
I slid into the chair and tapped the curlin’ iron to make sure it was hot. “Just don’t go askin’ for any spongebaths, highn-ass.”
FOCUS smirked and grabbed the doorknob, “Just get it together. I wanna see you shake that money maker.”
When I was alone again, my heart smiled. It wasn’t a sweet, lovey-dovey one, it was devious. My show was gonna be for him and him alone. I’d make money for sure, but just like the chick with the blow-job by the bike, I’d be tauntin’ him the whole time.
Tell me you’re not jealous. I call bullshit.
I looked at my phone and it was just about showtime. I grabbed my stuff and headed to the DJ booth to tell him what songs to play. Since Coy said it’d be a busier show, I chose five songs that went with my theme. The first was “Dr. Feelgood” by Motley Crue and I was pumped as I stood by the curtain, ready to hit the stage. I knew he’d be watchin’ and wanted to make sure his eyes were focused on me.
“Let’s get ready to rumble! Nympho Nixx Barritt, hitting the stage for her second show of the night!”
I practically skipped onto the stage and went straight for the pole to check the audience. This place is gettin’ packed! When the music kicked in, I threw a cheerleader high kick and my adrenaline was jacked through the roof. That feelin’ is almost as good as hard, poundin’ sex. Not a FOCUS kiss, but up on that level for damn sure. I crawled from customer to customer and gave each guy special attention. I still kept my eyes at half-mast and it meant I could look wherever I wanted without ruinin’ the guy’s private show. I looked at FOCUS the entire time. He knew it too and didn’t look away. When the second song came on, I popped off my shiny white bra with sequined red crosses in the center. I pranced up to the front of the stage and looked at FOCUS standin’ against the bar. He was entranced like the rest of the guys and when I licked my finger and ran it around a nipple, he smiled. The s
how went on and I teased off the matchin’ g-string and did a very sexual floor show. I felt free and pushed further than I did on the first show. When I touched and ran a finger down my slit, I did an evil little smile and licked it clean. FOCUS moved, grabbed at his dick, and sucked the tip of one of his fingers.
I know you’re hard as a rock.
The DJ told me about a game called cooter-ball I could play. The guys tried to get dollars into a cup between my legs to win drinks. It worked so well that the show went over by three songs and I was still havin’ money thrown at me. When I was done, Gremlin came out with a push broom and swept all the crumpled dollar bills behind the curtain. I was high as a kite. What a rush!
Back in the dressin’ room, I pulled up a towel and sat on the floor. All the money was surroundin’ me and I just laughed my ass off like a lunatic. It was so different than Manhattan and I never wanted to go back to the Midtown Mounds. The rush was still rollin’ over me and I threw the money in the air and leaned back. Then there was a loud poundin’ on the door and FOCUS was yellin’ for me to open up.
What did I do now?
ROCK CANDY
“Unlock the fuckin’ door, Nixx! I’m not playin’ with you, girl!” Why the fuck she’d have the door locked was a mystery. With her, the only thought was she was turnin’ a trick and thinkin’ she’d get away with it. She opened the door and I pushed the rest of the way in. It wasn’t a big room and I could tell in a second she was alone. The bitch was fuckin’ with me.
“You’re playin’ the wrong game with the wrong guy!” I slammed her naked, sweaty body against the wall and clamped my hand down over her mouth. “You tryin’ to see what’ll happen if you push me too far? Is that really what you wanna do?”
I jacked a leg up and reached down to her wet pussy. Her eyes were glassy and when I touched her, they closed the way they had on stage. My cock was already poundin’ from watchin’ the show and then the idea of her givin’ that to someone else twisted me the fuck up.