A Rebel Love (Black Rebel Riders' MC Book 7) (10 page)

Chapter 10

Christa

My knees are knocking together. I am so freaking nervous. What in the
hell
was I thinking coming to this dump?

I can’t get on that stage.

I can’t take my clothes off for these men.

I’m no better than my mother, but what choice do I have? I won’t let my Gram lose everything.

I can’t.

I go back and forth with myself, pacing the parking lot outside of Pink Lips.

I am doing this for JT, too.

My brother needs me too.

I’m all he’s got in this world.

No one else gives a shit about us, other than Gram.

I want a cigarette or a drink, and I never indulge in either. The lot is nearly empty, there can’t be many people here to see me make a fool of myself. Finding my resolve, I square my shoulders and walk through the neon pink doors.

This place
really
is a shithole. It smells like cigarettes and cheap whiskey, and maybe stinky twat. Not that I know how a stinky twat smells. I am just assuming.  I approach the man behind the bar.

“What’s your poison?”

“I’m here to see Lenny,” I answer anxiously. I’m ready to get this over with, before I lose my newly found courage.

He slings a stained towel over his shoulder, walks to the end of the bar, and gives a signal to a man standing at a door marked “
employees only.
”

I watch the girl dancing on stage hoping I can pick up on something that might help me. She climbs up the metal pole faster than I can blink and spins back down into the splits. Yeah, I am
WAY
out of my element.

The bartender must sense my unease. “That’s Della, the girl can move. I bet she could teach you, if you are willing to learn.”

“Pfft, that’s nothing. I got great moves,” I lie.

“Sure you do. Women like you come in all the time, looking for a quick dollar, thinking it’s just flashing a bit of strange for some change. But these bitches…they work for
every
dollar.”

That is exactly what I was thinking but I’m not about to tell him that. “Can I get a shot?”

“Sure thing Buttercup.”

“
Buttercup
?”

“Yeah, your legs look all smooth and creamy like butter. You need to catch some sun girl.” He slides a glass across the bar holding something green that looks like slime.

“So what do people call you?” I ask as I sniff the contents of my drink, crinkling my nose before tossing it down my throat.

“My friends call me Rocky, but you can call me anything you like.” He winks and I laugh, feeling more at ease. He isn’t bad looking, he seems friendly. But I guess he would need to be working here.

I am trying to think of a witty comeback when I am tapped on the shoulder by a short but stout man. This must be Lenny. He looks sleazy enough to own this dump. In his cheap suit, sweat glistens on his forehead. It’s not even hot in here.

“You Perry’s cunt?” He questions giving me a look over.

I’m
so
not Perry’s anything, but I nod.

“I don’t really need another dancer but Perry gave me his word that you were worth it, so this better be good. Don’t waste my time sweetheart, take off your clothes and show me what you got. If you make me hard, the job is yours.”

I want to throw-up but I need the money more than I need my pride. “Right here or on stage?”

“I ain’t got all day. Right here is fine.” He wipes at his forehead with a napkin. His pupils are the size of a pinhole.  He’s high.
Great
. “Get on with it girl,
damn
.”

Without wasting more of this prick’s time, I push the straps of my sundress down, allowing the black slinky material fall to my feet. I’m standing here shaking in my panties when a familiar face—Marc walks through the doors.
GREAT
! I should have known! He’s
exactly
the kind of man who frequents a place such as this.

He pretends not to recognize me and goes straight to a table in the corner. Lenny smacks my thonged ass and shouts, “Go sell that man a lap dance.”

FUCK
. This is
awkward
. With my pride shoved up my ass, I kick my dress to the side. I say, “okay,” sauntering over to the first guy to ever break my heart, to ask if he’d like a dance.  Could this day get any
worse
?

Tread

Kurt and me have been sitting down the road from Pink Lips for the past hour watching the clouds roll by in the sky. Ain’t shit going on.  Maybe Lenny was just bluffing One-off, trying to back him down. He’s lucky One-off didn’t put a hole between his eyes. I would have. If I had a family, no man would fuck with the welfare of my kids. Best believe that. He’d be in the ground, no doubt about it.

Kurt is kicking rocks and walking in circles. We have good cover behind the Goodwill Plaza. Only thing back here to do is keep company with the rats from the river coming up to feast in the dumpsters. River rats ain’t nothing to ignore, those fat, furry bastards are huge.
Shit,
even the homeless won’t shit back here from fear of being eaten.

If I wouldn’t attract attention, I’d shoot the fat, furry motherfuckers as they scurry along the riverbank.  

With nothing to do my mind wanders to Christa, and I ponder on the information Truth gathered about her. She works at the elementary school, in the office, no husband, one serious relationship that ended years ago. She basically raised her brother. Her grandma is on the verge of losing her home.

Her brother’s history is what I find so intriguing. He don’t look a shittin’ thing like her mom or dad, but I have a hunch on his origins.

“Got movement,” Kurt interrupts my thoughts.

I look across the way to Pink Lips and speaking of the past, there she is—Christa, strutting across the parking lot.

What the fuck is she doing here?

“Give me your shirt,” I bark at him. “I’m going in.”

“
Are you crazy
?”

“Are you my mother?” I raise a brow and snarl.

Kurt shakes his head and shrugs his shirt over his head. It isn’t the best disguise but at least the sleeves cover my tats.

When I walk into the joint, Christa’s standing at the bar with her dress at her feet.
Damn.
 She isn’t wasting no time.

Without a second glance in her direction I take a corner table for privacy. I have a ball cap concealing most of my face. My hair isn’t very long but shags down around my chin enough to provide cover. I shouldn’t be risking this, but we need any information we can uncover.

This place is a real shithole. It could turn a profit if some money was put in it.  The faux leather is peeling from the seats. The tables are scratched all to hell. The flooring needs replaced.
Shit
, it’d be better to burn it and start over.

Not a minute or two later, Christa is at my table grimacing, ready to vomit.

“You look a little green around the edges. You sure you ain’t gonna puke on me?”

“Marc, I…uh you want a dance or a drink or something.”

“You don’t know me and I don’t know you sweetheart.” I give her a pointed look.

“Right, you can call me Buttercup,” she squeaks like a little mouse.

“Get me a beer and then
maybe
I’ll take that dance,
Buttercup
.” I pop the P.

She says nothing, taking the hint and gets me a beer. It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to sling her over my shoulder and take her away from this. She’s
too
good for this shit. Christa was never one to put out easily. It took me a year to get in her pants.

My eyes are locked on the stage, watching a chick with chubby thighs work the pole, but I’m lost inside my head, buried in thoughts of the past.

“You must be joking!” My girlfriend smacks my arm. “You’re joining a motorcycle club?”

“Damn sweetness.” I rub the stinging ache on my forearm where she struck me. “Thought you might find it sexy.” I wink and she scowls.

“Yeah, well…I think you’re an idiot and if you want to be with me…you aren’t going to be in that club.”

She can’t mean that. I like Christa a lot, but I make my own rules. I don’t need to be mothered. We’ve had fun, but fuck! I’m only nineteen. I’m not looking to marry the girl. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

“That’s it!” She screeches in my ear, fat, angry tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Yeah, it is.” I don’t bother looking back. I got my club, that’s all I need.

Christa slides my beer across the table unable to meet my eyes. I can practically smell her fear. She doesn’t
belong
here. She doesn’t
want
to be here. So
why
is she? I’m going to find out, but not right now.

I take a swig of my beer and she turns her back to me with her shoulders hunched. “I’ll take that dance now,
tight ass
.”

She spins around slowly with waves of crimson washing over her chest.
I’d like to pull her into my lap and suck on her perky breasts, but she looks like she might vomit, and that’s just not sexy.

I glance to the bar; no one is paying attention to us. “First time?”

She chews on her lip and nods.

I thought I could do this—pretend that I don’t know her, but every fiber in my being is burning to help her. The urge to save her is overwhelming. The way I treated her in the past was shitty.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just you and me right now darlin’. Dance for me like I’m the only one watching.”

She edges closer. Her knees are knocking together. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and run my finger over her jaw. She shivers and swallows.

“Been a long motherfuckin’ time since I’ve seen all this. Honey, you’ve filled out nicely. You sure as hell are all woman now.”

She fights the urge to laugh, glancing away.

“Eyes right here,” I demand keeping my voice calm.

Her gaze shifts landing on me and my heartbeat speeds up. There’s trust in her eyes. She’s putting her trust in me. The man who broke her heart. Something builds in the center of my chest and I know in this moment I will never hurt her ever again. Whatever happened in the past is void. All that matters now, is what I do from this point forward. She needs my help and I need hers. Maybe we can be friends this time around. I don’t have to fuck every woman I come across.

“I don’t know what you’re doing in this dump, but you are going to explain it to me later. Now dance,” I order.

She begins to roll her hips slowly, completely out of rhythm with music. Christa is sexy as hell but she can’t dance for shit. It’s painfully clear. It just so happens I know the girl to teach her how.
 

“I’ll be waiting across the street when you leave. Meet me at the carwash. We need to talk about your brother.” I shove a hundred-dollar bill down her panties and leave a twenty on the table for my beer
.

Chapter 11

Amy

Me and my big mouth. Truth just
had to
push and I just
had to
let down my guard and tell him
every
dirty
detail
. My skin is crawling just from talking about it. I need a shower but that isn’t happening.
Nope
. Right now I am sitting on the couch listening as Truth recounts my pain to Rebel and Grim. I can feel all of their eyes on me and my stomach lurches.

I can’t do this.

I can’t listen to the pain expressed in his voice or endure the appearance of pity in his eyes.

“They forced her to cut out a girl’s tongue while they pointed a gun to her head. It was that or die.” Grady touches my knees and tries to hold my hand.

The bile raises in my throat as I see Brenda’s hollowed eyes staring at me, inside my head. I jerk away from him, sprinting to the bathroom as the putrid acid coats my tongue, burning my nostrils. Cutting out her tongue was the least of my worries when it came to the things Lick wanted from me. Not that it wasn’t horrible. It was devastating, but if I wanted to live—
God
did I want to live, I had to kiss her bloodied mouth as her wound bled. Then he fucked us both while his crew laughed and cheered.

I’m hugging the toilet as my hair hangs in my face.  Moments later Truth is undressing me and holding me in the shower. “I’m so sorry I put you through that twice today.” 

My arms are slackening at my sides as he holds me tighter against his clothed chest. I have no desire to do anything right now.

I feel
empty
.

I feel
worthless
.

How could I do such horrible things and go on with my life like they never happened?

How could my body respond to that sick bastard’s touch?

“Talk to me Amy. Say something.
Anything
. Tell me you hate me.  Just…I need you to talk to me.”

“Fuck you Grady,” I croak as the warm water sprays over me. I wish I could escape down the drain and be left alone to wallow in my shame.

He finally lets go, giving me room to breathe. Once he steps out of the shower, I wash myself and decide I have to let Truth go. I can’t stay here with him any longer pretending we share something that isn’t even real.

I’ve been lying to myself.

I’m just a stand in for what he can’t have.

He doesn’t want me.

Not really.

Why would he after learning the things I’ve done?

I’m so
stupid
.

I can’t even bear to see myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth.

I go into the bedroom and throw on a tank top and jeans. My hair is piled in a damp, messy bun. I have
no fucks
left to give.

I don’t know where I will go. A cheap motel or something, until I can find a place I can afford. I could always crash with Berta and Cal, if need be.

Truth is in the living room working on his computer. While he is busy researching, I start packing what little clothes I have here. I have more at the Roadhouse, but it’s stuff I rarely wear.

I’m stuffing the last of my tees into a bag when Truth grabs my arm.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” I snap.

“Whatever shit you got going on in here...” He taps my head. “I got you.
Fuck
,
Peaches
, don’t leave me.”

“Why? Why should I stay? You said it yourself earlier—I’m
club pussy
,” I sneer tossing his words back in his face.

“I didn’t mean it that way. 
Damn it Amy
.” He crashes his mouth against mine, demanding entrance into my mouth as his hot tongue presses against my lips.

I pull back. “You can’t just kiss me and expect me to stay. A kiss is just a kiss. I see the way you look at Tread. You don’t look at me with that hunger.”

He doesn’t deny it. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t jealous and that I understood, but my heart is in the way now.

I
want
him to
want
me.

I need
him
to need
me
.