“Tony, so good to see you,” I greeted him with a straight face.
Carlos looked momentarily confused. He wasn’t used to me being so articulate, let alone flippant. His face then turned into a sly grin.
“I’m sure you know by now that it’s Carlos, though, by the looks of it, you’ve indulged in a lot of cocktails, name mix-ups are inevitable,” he nodded to my now empty glass.
I didn’t say anything, merely shrugged my shoulders. I was hoping he’d get bored of me like he normally did.
“When are you going to decide to come and work here?” he asked, stepping into my personal bubble. “You could make a lot more money than you do at that bar. Men like the schoolgirl thing,” he gave me another once over, “the sex kitten thing you’ve got going tonight could make you a lot of money also.” His chubby finger trailed on my bare thigh. “Enough to put you through college and pay any pesky medical bills left over,” he continued, his voice sending shivers down my spine. Not the good ones.
I screwed up my nose, trying not to gag. My insecurities came creeping back in. Vodka only gave me so much bravado, and the fact the creep was touching me when I had no one to back me up, had me retreating back into my shell.
“You wanna keep that hand, I suggest you take it off my woman,” a tight voice cut in.
Both Carlos and my head whipped around. I sagged in relief to see Asher standing close to Carlos, glowering at him his arms crossed. His jaw was hard, and he looked unlike the man who had treated me with tenderness almost two weeks ago, three years ago. He looked dangerous. A man I didn’t recognize stood behind him, face tight. His cut told me he was in the Sons, as did the fact he was huge, muscled, and attractive. I was starting to think it was an entry requirement. Lucky stood beside him. He didn’t look as mad as the rest of them, but his usually carefree face was dangerously blank.
Carlos scowled at them, then his eyes found their cuts and he moved his hands off me quickly, stepping back.
“My apologies, gentlemen. I didn’t know this one was claimed by the Sons of Templar,” Carlos’s tone was pleasant, but his weasel eyes were narrowed on the attractive men like they were insects on his shoe. The way he said the club’s name held something behind it like the words were unpleasant on his forked tongue.
I didn’t think this was an appropriate moment to educate all of them that I wasn’t claimed. I would never be like Gwen and Amy, who could throw sass at their scary bikers and turn them to puppy dogs. I didn’t have enough confidence in myself to throw attitude, to voice my irritation in front of people I didn’t know. Silence was the lesser of two evils right now. Not that being “claimed” by Asher was evil, it was a dream. That was the problem. Dreams were fleeting. Nightmares were more likely to be the reality.
Asher advanced as soon as Carlos retreated, moving to step beside me and put his hand on the back of my neck.
“Now you do,” he murmured dangerously, giving my neck a gentle squeeze.
I relaxed against his simple touch. I hadn’t been near him for almost two weeks, the voice at the other end of the phone had me craving this every day. Now I had it, I didn’t know how I’d live without it. I knew I’d have to, eventually. My drunken mind was all about instant gratification.
“I suggest you take better care of her, considering how dangerous it is to have a girl like that,” he nodded to me, “in places where ... unsavory things could happen to her. You’ve got your own club in Amber, you want her to hang out in strip clubs, may I suggest your own?” he suggested pleasantly, though even I wasn’t oblivious to the threat beneath his words.
The tall one stepped forward, danger seeping off him and Asher’s body went tight beside me, he yanked me closer to his body protectively.
“Now I know you’re a stupid son of a bitch, but I didn’t realize you were suicidal, threatening my brother’s Old Lady right in front of him,” the tall one bit out, face dangerous.
Carlos didn’t appear rattled. “No threat. Just a friendly observation from one business owner to another,” he replied calmly. “You boys want to stay, have a drink, enjoy the show, you’re most welcome.” His eyes flickered to Adam, who’d been standing silently watching the exchange. “First round’s on me. Though, if you’re thinking about swinging any fists, I’d advise against it.” He nodded his head to a corner where someone who looked like he abused steroids stepped out of, hand on his hip like there was something dangerous underneath it. Something dangerous that shot people full of bullets. Carlos’s head moved to another corner where meathead’s long lost brother did the same thing. My stomach dropped with concern. Not for the men beside me, they could take care of themselves, but for Bex. I may have had too much vodka to think with complete clarity, but I realized that a strip club that required this kind of security, a man who was prepared to give veiled threats to the club, it was dangerous. It was more than it seemed.
Carlos treated me to a look that made my skin crawl then gave the men a patronizing smile. “Enjoy the show, boys,” he said, before turning on his tasteless heel and disappearing into the crowd.
“Wow,” I exclaimed before any of the men could say a thing. “I knew he was an asshat, but Bex’s boss is officially a massive dick,” I declared with drunken certainty.
There was silence, the big guy turned slowly, Lucky stared at me, and Asher gave me a look, then they all burst out laughing. Well, Lucky and the big guy did, Asher’s mouth turned up slightly hinting at amusement.
“Wanna educate me as to what the fuck you’re doing at a strip club, alone?” Asher asked lightly, though his jaw was hard. The big man and Lucky leaned on the bar on either side of me, people dispersing with a look from each of the men.
“Man, I wish I could do that, give someone a withering look and get them out of my bubble,” I observed with amazement.
Lucky smirked again. The big man shook his head.
Three beers were set on the bar. Adam’s was focused on me. “Everything okay here, Lily?” he asked me with concern, his focus on Asher’s cut.
I gave him a grin. “Everything’s fine,” I declared. “Asher’s not a shark,” I winked.
Adam didn’t look convinced. “You need me to call you that cab, just give me a holler, darlin’,” he responded firmly.
“She doesn’t need a cab, I’ve got her. My thanks for looking out for her,” Asher answered for me.
Adam gave him a weary gaze. He nodded, looked at me a second more then moved down the bar.
Asher raised a brow. “Sharks?” he questioned.
“The men who frequent such establishments.” I held my hands out to the room.
Lucky choked on the beer he was taking a tug of. “That’s one thing to call them,” he said dryly.
Asher gave him a hard look, then moved his gaze to me. “Such establishments are not somewhere you need to be spending your nights, flower,” he informed me. “Especially not alone.
“I’m not alone, I was with Bex,” I explained.
Asher didn’t seem happy about my answer. “Was. I don’t see her anywhere, and this is not a place you should sucking down drinks. We’re leavin’,” he declared.
I smiled. “Wow, I think you may be the only man to say he wants to leave a strip club,” I teased, not knowing where my cheerfulness was coming from. I had a niggling feeling it was coming from the man whose body was claiming mine.
Lucky let out another strangled chuckle, his eyes roving around the room.
Asher’s face changed at my words, I didn’t get time to think too hard on it as the music came on and the lights dimmed slightly.
“Plus, we can’t leave, Bex is about to come on,” I threw my hand out toward the stage where music had just started blaring. Three sets of male eyes focused on the place where Bex emerged, strutting her stuff. Her eyes found mine as she rounded the poll, bugging out slightly at the men I was with, though her step didn’t falter. She recovered quickly and winked at me.
“Jesus Christ,” Asher muttered under his breath, his
eyes darting away from my scantily clad best friend the moment he realized it was her.
“Holy shit,” Lucky exclaimed, his eyes glued to the stage. “I think I’m in love,” he proclaimed dramatically.
The tall guy didn’t say a thing, his eyes were glued on Bex and stayed there, his jaw hard.
Asher pulled me lightly out of my seat. “We’re leaving,” he said, or more aptly, ordered, his eyes on me.
I frowned at him. “We’re not. Bex has only just started,” I protested.
Asher gave me a hard look. “I’m not sitting here watching your friend strip, and more importantly, I’m not sitting in a strip club with you wearing those shorts,” he bit out, his eyes moving over the length of me. He leaned into me, so his mouth tickled my ear. “Seeing you in those shorts means I’m going to have to fuck you in the next twenty minutes, and I’d rather not do it in a strip club bathroom,” he added, making my stomach drop.
I gaped at him when he leaned back. “Okay. We’re off then,” I decided and the men grinned. I didn’t have time to give them proper goodbyes as Asher dragged me away, I only waved over my shoulder.
“Wanna give me some explanation as to why you’ve been spending your nights at strip clubs?” Asher asked softly, his finger trailing up and down my arm.
I took a long pause. “I told you, I needed time,” I said finally.
Asher squeezed me. “I don’t think you did, flower. Now I’ve got you in my arms, thoroughly fucked, I know the last thing you needed was time. You were scared,” he observed, correctly I might add. “And when I said I’d give you time, I didn’t expect you’d spend it in strip clubs with sleazy fucks like Carlos Leith,” he added in a hard voice.
Thoroughly fucked was one way to put it. Asher had damned near pounced on me the moment we made it through my door. Well, after he made me stand at the front door and do a “walk through.”
“No boogeymen hiding under my bed?” I deadpanned when he’d stopped in front of me after his inspection.
He had frowned. “Don’t like you in this place, and I’m fixin’ that window. Tomorrow. Now, I fuck you.”
And he had. Against the door. Then in my bed. Now we were here. My body felt like jelly, and everything was delightfully fuzzy around the edges, thanks to residual alcohol and the ability for the world to fall away when Asher was with me.
I realized we were in that silence, one Asher hadn’t tried to fill, hadn’t urged me to talk. He merely resumed lightly tracing my arm, letting me process.
“You don’t mind silence,” I observed.
He tilted my chin so chocolate eyes met mine. “I’ve got you in my arms, I’m in your bed. After almost two weeks of only hearing that sweet voice on the other side of the phone. I know you don’t like yabberin’ at the best of times, unless you’re with me, angry, or liquored up, somethin’ I learned tonight.” His eyes twinkled. “You need time to sort shit in your head, need time to process. I get it. I’m quite happy to give you that, as long as you’re naked in my arms,” he told me softly.
My belly did a little dip. He knew me. Saw right into me. After one night three years ago, and a few hours in my presence since then. It was unnerving.
“This is unnerving,” I vocalized my last thought. “This, us … it’s too intense. Too quick. I’m not ready,” I whispered.
Asher gave me a long look. “It is too intense,” he agreed. “Don’t know how to make it any other way. I know I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s right, you know it. You’re ready. You’re just scared. Shit that went down with your mom, flower that’s marked your beautiful soul. Damaged it,” he stroked my cheek lightly. “Bruised those delicate petals. It’ll heal. Might not mend quite the same, it’ll always hurt, but I plan on being right here while you figure out how to heal it,” he promised. “I’m done with the space. With the frustration of hearing the pain in that voice on the other end of a phone.”
I blinked away the tears his words were causing. The pins and needles I felt as he prodded at my mind, the place where the big sad was hiding, lurking.
“I don’t know if I can do that, be what you want me to be,” I choked out, truth to my words but also self-preservation. I’d just suffered a devastating loss, and I was setting myself up for it all over again. Cancer might not steal him, nor death, but probably boredom, reality. Realization that I wasn’t that girl, whoever he thought she was. I wasn’t special.
Asher’s eyes were resolute. “I don’t need you to be anything but who you are. My girl,” he replied with certainty.
At that moment, I didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to push him away in order to save myself. I was willing to sacrifice the future Lily’s emotional health for the current Lily’s survival. Because right now, being Asher’s girl, for however long, was something that I needed.
“Bex!” A high pitched voice screamed as soon as we tumbled out of our ride.
“Nat!” Bex’s less high pitched scream was directed at a slim woman with a head full of ashy blonde hair. Her outfit had me openly gaping at the sheer amount of skin the silvery bandage dress was showing, her sky-high heels looking like something even I would tumble down from. She was grinning warmly and drunkenly at us as we approached.
It was the night after Asher had told me I was “his girl.” Something that would have normally had me floating on cloud nine, yet it barely had me paddling in the ocean of grief I was stranded in. Belonging to the man I’d loved for three years may have been something good, something great, but it didn’t automatically erase everything else bad in my life. Especially when he had to leave early this morning for work, with no time to talk about him turning up at the strip club, or about what the heck was going on between us. I hadn’t been mad. A little part of me had been glad. Looking into to his eyes was like forcing myself into looking into me. Into what I was running from. I didn’t need that. I needed oblivion. Hence the fact I was in yet another of Bex’s outfits, filled with Bex’s homemade cocktails and at a club that was nowhere near my scene.
“Perfect timing,” Nat exclaimed as we cut in the front of the line beside her.
There were a couple of whiny grumbles from a group of girls behind us. We ignored them. Well, I ignored them, trying to shy away from any potential conflict. Bex flipped them the bird before turning to hug Nat.
“This is my best bitch, Lily. Once a hermit, now party girl,” she introduced with a slight slur, gesturing to me.
I did a lame little wave. “Hey,” I muttered, focusing solely on staying upright. The transition from sitting in a car to standing on a sidewalk messing with my mind slightly.
She grinned at me, looking me up and down, but not in a bitchy way. Her gaze was warm. Friendly. “Bex has told me heaps about you, I’m glad to finally meet you in the flesh.”
She surprised me by engulfing me in a hug. I wasn’t a hugger. I avoided human contact with strangers if I could possibly avoid it. I wasn’t one of those girls that hugged their friends every time they saw them. I didn’t like it. But maybe it was the alcohol in my system, or the fact that this new Lily was a hugger or the weird sort of comfort in the perfume and alcohol laden hug had me relaxing.
“Sorry about your mom, babe,” she whispered in my ear.
I jolted slightly at the reminder of my old life. The life I’d left behind when I put on clothes I didn’t normally wear, drank things I didn’t normally drink. Of that big sadness I was trying to escape. As if she knew what I was trying to do, the sympathetic look was quickly wiped from her face, and her drunken grin replaced it.
“Let’s party, bitches,” she said as the bouncer moved the rope aside to let us in.
Bex winked at me over her shoulder, and I followed, intent on forgetting everything.
I was on a bar. Like on top of it. Dancing. Grinding. Never in my twenty-three years had I thought I’d be on top of a bar in a crowded nightclub, dancing with my best friend and her posse. I was pretty sure most of them worked at Bex’s club, on account of their mad dance moves
. The old Lily, given the choice, would have rather wrestled with an anaconda than dance on a bar. But I wasn’t the old Lily. I was the new and improved and appropriately liquored Lily. This Lily thought dancing on a bar was awesome.
Bex grinned at me. “You all good, babe?” she yelled over the music, her hands going to my hips. Her eyes were bright, unusually bright, with the shots we’d just done I guessed.
I beamed at her, having a feeling it was slightly crooked. I was feeling slightly crooked.
“I’m great,” I yelled back.
We were currently dancing to “Timber” by Pitbull and everyone was cheering us on. There were more cheers as Bex executed the perfect “slut drop” against my body, a term I had learned, and practiced this past week. I threw my hands in the air, twirling, closing my eyes. I soaked it all in. The cheers, the music, the exhilaration that masked the exhaustion. I tried to let it fill me up to replace the emptiness. It didn’t work. It didn’t make me forget about it, but made it seem somehow distant, or more removed.
When I opened my eyes, I was facing the crowd. It was blurry, a mix of bodies moving. But somehow, between the bodies I spotted him. Maybe because he was hard to miss. He wasn’t laughing, dancing, or grinding on anyone. He was standing near the edge of the gyrating sea, his arms crossed and his eyes firmly on me. They captured me from across the room. He had a couple of other men behind him I noticed, one was them was from the strip club, the other I couldn’t see properly and not really worth focusing on. Not at that moment. Instead of turning red, of scurrying off the bar and escaping this situation, the burning behind those distant eyes, I gave him what I hope was a sexy grin. I moved my hips, threw my hands up in the air again, and moved my body against the music.
My eyes didn’t leave his the entire time. My whole body burned with need, and somehow, this new Lily had the boldness to execute this way of communicating it.
“Holy fuck,” Bex shouted in my ear. “That’s the biker? My memory does not do him justice,” she declared in amazement, stopping her movement to gape at Asher. We had talked about him, in great detail this afternoon, when she had stumbled out of bed, but she hadn’t gotten a proper glance at him the night before. Well she had, but she said she’d been too “shitfaced” to remember him. And three years was a long time in Bex’s world, especially when she didn’t dream about him every night like I did. I guessed she was getting an eyeful now.