Chapter 2

Alex

Celine covers her mouth and leans toward me, whispering conspiratorially from behind her hand. “See those two men at the bar? I’d give them both at least an eight, and probably darn near a nine.”

Only vaguely interested, I turn to see what my sister has pointed out, and it only takes a second before I’m agreeing with her assessment. “For whites, they’re okay.” And my, that’s an understatement. The two tall men are stunning, particularly the one on the right. He’s got his dark hair tied up in a man bun, and when he turns my way his features are aquiline with well-defined cheek bones. His stance and bearing show he’s all man, almost too much for one woman to handle. As I watch, he laughs at something his companion has said, then slaps him on the back, drawing my attention to the strange leather vest that he’s wearing. “That one’s not bad. But what’s he wearing?”

Celine narrows her eyes. “The threads show they’re members of the Satan’s Devils,” she tells me. “It’s an outlaw motorcycle club based here in Tucson. Have you not seen them around?”

I haven’t, no, but then I haven’t been here that long. Then I latch onto something she’s said. “Outlaw?” Now intrigued, peering up through my eyelashes, I risk another glance at them.

“Yeah, they live outside the law. Or that’s the word.”

“Criminals?”

“Christ, girl. Don’cha have bikers where you come from?” As she picks up her glass and drains it, I think about it. No, I don’t think I’ve come across them before, not unless I’ve been driving and had to put up with a group of motorcyclists splitting lanes, making me ultra-careful to keep to my side of the road. Tilting her drink toward the bikers, she continues, “There are rumours they kill people and bury the bodies.”

“Kill? Who? Anyone?” I can’t help shifting nervously and shrinking back into my seat.

She throws me a disparaging look. “Jesus, Alex. What stone did you crawl out from under? No, not random peeps. Just people who cross them.”

Making a mental note not to do anything to upset them, I risk another look, trying to assess just how dangerous they are.

Celine must see that’s she’s made me nervous, and gives a little laugh. “They’re just rumours, Alex. If they were criminals, don’cha think the cops would quickly be along to arrest them?”

They certainly don’t look like wanted men, standing at the bar and enjoying a joke.

“And they own this place. The Wheel Inn. Or so most people believe. That’s why they’re here, I expect. To check it’s running smoothly. And to keep trouble away.”

Which they’d have no problems doing just by their presence. You’d have to be mad to take on big, tough men like them. And something about them being tattooed and dangerous, I’m ashamed to admit, sparks my interest. What would it be like to have one of them in your corner? Or in your bed. Especially the one with his hair in a bun. God, I bet he’d know what to do to keep a girl satisfied. Mmm mmm.

Celine resumes the conversation. “I think they’ve gone, or are trying to go legit. They own a number of businesses in Tucson…” She breaks off and looks at me with a gleam in her eyes. “Hey, girl, that’s a thought. They own a strip club.”

I shrug, having absolutely no idea where she’s going with that comment.

“Yeah,” she carries on enthusiastically, “that could be an idea for you. You’re desperate for a job, ain’t cha? And I doubt they’d be worried if you didn’t want to give them your social security number.”

It was the wrong time to take a sip of my drink, as I now spit it out all over the table, and my resultant choking fit has the bikers, and everyone else in the vicinity, spinning around to look at me. Feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks, I grab hold of her arm. “What the fuck you talking about? Me? Work in a strip club?”

“Babe,” she looks at me as though addressing a child, “you’ve got no real work experience to offer. What’s the one skill you have got?”

Suddenly I regret telling my sister as much as I had. There were definitely some things I should have kept quiet. But she’s right. Having run away to Tucson with little more than the clothes on my back, the money I had managed to bring with me was fast running out. I’d be unable to rely on her generosity for very much longer, and needed to earn enough to pay my way somehow or other. It’s not that I haven’t been looking for work, I have. But either I’m not wanted as I’ve no resume to offer, or if someone was willing to give me a chance, I baulked at having my name officially entered on employment records. I may be overly cautious. Ron might not even be trying to find me, but if he is searching for me, I don’t want to make it easy for him.

Hopefully he wouldn’t even think of looking here, even if I did come and impose on my sister. Ostracised by my overly strict family when she’d got pregnant and had an abortion at the age of eighteen, I’d kept in contact with her in secret, and as far as I know, am the only one who knows where she ended up. Even if Ron did find out her address, there’s no reason for him to think that this is where I would run to.

Thinking about my plight reminds me how overwhelmed I was by her easy acceptance of my situation, and the help both her and her husband have extended to me. Not only putting a roof over my head, but also refusing much more than a pittance toward the food they willingly share. It is well past time I begin to repay them and, hopefully, manage to bring in enough money so I can put some aside. But a strip club? I bark an incredulous laugh.

She’s looking at me strangely. “I think it’s worth a try.”

I just give a disbelieving look. “Me, a stripper? Working for bikers? You have got to be kidding me. Just look at me, Celine. I’m not the type.” I know what I am. Christ, I find it hard enough to get clothes to fit. Which wouldn’t be a problem if I’m taking them off. I give myself and mental slap around the head. I’m not seriously considering it, am I?

“I’m black,” I add. And coming to Tucson I’m finding it strange how few of us there are.

She tilts her head to one side. “You’re different is all. And from what you’ve said…”

“I said too much, obviously.” My eyes narrow at her.

Her sudden change of subject catches me off guard. “Want another?” She points to my empty glass.

Thank goodness! She appears to be done with her preposterous suggestion.

When I nod, she takes the empties and goes over to the bar. I watch as she meanders around the tables instead of taking the direct route, and ends up, oh shit, beside the bikers. Showing such rough types can also be gentlemen, they move aside to let her through, but I can see from here they’re undressing her with their eyes as they do so. Oh, Celine got the figure, looks, and the height. She’s the total opposite of me. As usual, I can’t hide my envy at the way the dice fell.

What they see must be enough to tempt them, but she dismisses the comment they make with a confident laugh, then turns and places her order. As she’s waiting for the bartender to bring the drinks, she swings back around and starts having what becomes an animated discussion with the men clad in leather. Anxiously biting my lip, I half look away, but continue watching them out of the side of my eye. What is she up to? But luckily there’s not one glance coming my way to suggest the topic of the discussion seems to concern me. The biker taps something into his phone, and I’m hoping it’s not her number. She’s happily married, or that’s what I thought.

After a few moments she returns, and a fresh drink is placed in front of me. There’s a gleam in her eye that I’m not sure I like.

“Thanks, Celine.” I regard it for a moment, feeling guilty. “You know you didn’t have to bring me out tonight. I’m so sorry I can’t pay my way.”

“Oh shush, girl. It’s good to get away from the house and have a girls’ night out. Craig’s all well and good, but I can go out with him anytime. And I can’t eye fuck the men while he’s around.”

I smile, thinking she doesn’t have to. She landed herself a good’un with him. So, what was she up to? I make a small gesture that no one else would notice. “What was that all about?”

“What?” she replies innocently, but something in her eyes flares.

“You, talking to the bikers.”

She laughs, shrugging it off, and points to the drinks on the table. “You’ll soon be able to return the favour once you’re earning again.”

She’s changing the subject by reminding me of my sorry predicament. I lift my chin and lower it, while thinking it will take a long time before I find anyone willing to take me on. Though, surprisingly, in Tucson it’s not the colour of my skin that’s much of a drawback. There are relatively few blacks in the city, and therefore we’re not viewed as any kind of threat. No, it’s the fact I’ve never worked a day in my life that’s against me. A half completed law degree hasn’t proved to be of any use.

Celine’s looking at her glass, and then peers at me over the top. “Hey, get that look off your face. Things are looking up, girl. I’ve got you an interview. Well, maybe audition’s the better word for it.”

Hang on. She said nothing about this earlier, and that flick of her eyes toward the men at the bar gives her away. Oh shit, don’t tell this mama it’s something to do with the bikers. I put my hand to my mouth, suddenly feeling very afraid. “Celine, what have you done?” I hiss. My eyes return to the bar just in time to see the two men disappearing out the back. “What do you mean, an audition?”

“At Satan’s Topless Angels.”

I growl low in my throat, “Which is?” But deep down I already know the answer. The name gives it away.

“The strip club owned by the Satan’s Devils Motorcycle Club.” Her reply is nonchalant, as if she was speaking about nothing more edifying than the weather forecast.

Now my head drops into my hands. What the hell has she gone and done?

“It’s tomorrow morning,” she continues, as if she’s not given me anything out of the ordinary to consider. “At eleven o’clock.”

For a moment I peer through my fingers, staring at her. What the hell is she thinking? There is no way on earth that I’ll be making that audition. For one thing—the only thing that matters—I don’t have what it takes. All at once, anger takes over as I look at my sister who, though has the same skin colour, unlike me, has been blessed with a tall, slender physique, taking after our father. “Celine, just be sensible. Look at me,” I hiss. “I’m short, overweight, and my boobs are totally out of proportion. Hardly stripper material.”

As quickly as mine had, her ire rises to match. “You’re beautiful, Alex, and don’t you ever forget it. And strippers come in all shapes and sizes, they have to. Men are attracted to many different types.”

“Not mine.” My husband had criticised my body for years, not that there was much I could do about it. All the dieting and exercising in the world hadn’t altered the basic shape God had gifted me with. My legs are too short, my breasts top heavy, and as for my ass... I, as Ron had so often said, am a joke.

She waves her hand in dismissal. “It’s what you do with it that matters the most. And boy, have you got some moves.”

Maybe I have. Who am I to judge? But I’d spent months trying. Not that Ron had appreciated it at all. He’d seen the same video I’d sent to Celine and he’d laughed his head off before telling me I made him feel sick and walked out, presumably to find a whore to stick his dick into.

I’d never told him anything about my strange hobby again. But I’d continued my lessons, performing for nothing other than my own enjoyment. But the legacy of the reaction of the man I’d left was what made me so nervous showing myself off to strangers. If he was repulsed, wouldn’t they be too?

“Look, Alex, I think you ought to give this a try…”

“Celine. You know I love you, and how much I appreciate you taking me in. And I know you need me to start paying my way, but there must be something else I can do…”

“You haven’t found anything so far. And,” she holds up her hands to stop me trying to talk over her again, “you need to get some confidence back. I think this is a great way. Go to the audition, show them what you’ve got, shake that little booty of yours, and if you get the job, great, you don’t have to take it. If they offer it to you, at least you’ll start believing that bastard Ron was just trying to wear you down.”

But what he’d said was the truth. I could use a mirror as well as the next woman. It will just be one more situation where I’d make a man laugh. “But it’s a strip club,” I snarl. Shit, how did I end up with this as my only option? “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Plenty of women do. And it’s not as though you’re going to be a hooker. Damn girl, just give it a try. For me?”

“I am not getting naked in front of strangers.” My hand wanders down and smoothes across the curves of my stomach.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Wear a bodysuit or something. I’m sure you can work something out.” The airily way she dismisses all my protests makes me realise with a sinking feeling of dread, she’s actually serious about this.

My eyes narrow. “They didn’t even look at me. They weren’t at all interested.” Yeah, they’d looked around at my coughing fit, but away just as quickly.

She shrugs, pushing her artificially relaxed and straightened hair over her shoulders. “I may have led them to believe it was going to be me.”

“Well you can fucking go instead.” There. If she’s so keen for one of us to take her clothes off in public, let it be her.

“Alex,” she starts, sounding like she’s addressing a slow learner. “I might have been blessed with a typical figure and reasonable looks, but I can’t do with it what you can. You’ve got the rhythm and movement. I’m just a stick on two legs.”

That brings a small smile to my lips. Unfortunately, she’s right. But is my ability to move enough for people to overlook my other major shortcomings?

She leans forward and covers my hands with her own. “Babe, sleep on it, okay? If you don’t turn up, they won’t be too bothered. They only know to expect an Alex in the morning. If you really don’t want to do this, then don’t. But if you want to give it a try, then I’m behind you all the way.”

Again, my teeth worry my bottom lip. If I wasn’t so desperate for money I wouldn’t even consider it. I start to wonder what the wages are like, the thought of being able to put dollars in my wallet suddenly sounding attractive. But her confidence I can pull it off is surely misplaced. I glance at my sister, not for the first time in my life, wishing I’d won the looks lottery instead. “You really think I can do this?”

“Why not?”

I can think of a hundred reasons why. Including, “I’m not a whore.”

“Of course not!” She looks shocked. “Look, I used to know one of the girls who stripped there—lovely girl, actually. She told me nothing like that was expected. The bikers are protective of the girls, and make sure there’s no touching. Sure, some give lap dances, but none are pushed into it if they don’t want to. And woe betide a man who puts his hands on a girl unasked. She was like you, desperate for a well-paying job, but because of the positive environment she actually enjoyed it. She ended up marrying one of the patrons.”

Our glasses are once again empty. Celine gathers her jacket and picks up her purse. As I copy her actions her words go around in my head. Don’t be stupid. It’s ridiculous. In my mind I can hear Ron laughing his head off.

And I pull myself up straight. What the fuck do I care what my soon-to-be ex-husband would think? Part of the reason I left was to change myself into someone different from the housewife he’d modelled me into, the Stepford wife clone he wanted to keep his house.

I got away. I’m free. I can do anything.