Chapter 1
“From a little spark may burst a flame.”
-Dante Alighieri
MAVERICK
"You coming?" Tex asked. He was holding the door to the strip club open for me.
"Nah, I'm good," I said. My arms crossed as I leaned against my Harley. “I’ll wait for you out here.”
"A bunch of naked chicks aren't gonna bite you."
"Maybe that's the problem; he could use a little biting," Reese said, laughing as he elbowed Tex. I hated Reese. He was a little fucker, obsessed with chasing tail and getting drunk. No redeeming qualities whatsoever, the only reason he was in the club was because his old man started it. None of us really liked him, we just tolerated him due to his name.
"Just don't look at the tits and ass," Tex said. "What if we need backup? You really gonna leave us high and dry cause of your issues?"
I growled at Texas and walked to the door. "Fucker," I hissed. He chuckled and clapped me on the back. That was the one thing to get me to step foot inside, the idea that I would be putting one of my brothers in danger, even though I knew it was unlikely since the club owned the place. There were a few joints the club owned that I stayed the hell away from, but Tight Ends was the only one I’d regularly refuse to enter before that day.
"Oh look, you didn't burst into flames," Tex said as soon as I was in the door.
Fucker.
I almost gagged at the smell of so many cheap fragrances masking the real stench of the room. I hated strip clubs. All types of sexual exploitation were triggering for me. Even strip joints, which were probably the lesser of the evils when it came to selling skin. But still, as I saw it, there was nothing good about them or in them. Sad, desperate women and predatory men, circling each other with hunger and need. No real human connection, just exploitation and greed. It was not my scene. It hadn't been my scene at nine, and it sure as fuck wasn't at thirty-two.
"Maybe you should get yourself a lap dance and chill the fuck out," Reese sneered. The little twerp walked past me straight to the main stage and started hollering at the blonde who was gyrating on the pole. Fake tits, fake ass, fake lips, fake hair, I wasn’t sure what the appeal was—this simulacrum of femaleness to replace the real thing. Get a blowup doll. My gut told me that what these men thrived off of was the fear they could cause them. Fear heightened hormone release, so did the consequent power and control. This shit was wild kingdom and we called ourselves the most advanced species.
I tried not to inhale the scent of carpet cleaner and sweat, Febreeze and Love’s Baby Soft. I knew the stench all too well from my childhood. Airwick couldn’t cover deviance, but it died trying. My own mother had reeked of cigarettes and the semen of her clients.
A few of the other guys followed Reece, already lost in the vast amount of pussy they saw. They wouldn’t be able to look away, respond to their names until they busted a nut. Any time they could drown in the touch of a woman, they'd take it. Absolve themselves in flesh—they found it cathartic and renewing. I wanted something more, yearned for it, in fact. Reese began pinching the tits of the stripper who was pretending to love it. A no touching rule was plastered to every vertical surface in the joint, but Reese imagined himself above the law. I gave a nod to a bouncer who quickly rushed over to squelch it. Let one guy start touching in here and ten minutes later it’s Caligula. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Reese’s daddy never told him no and now look where it’s got him.
“That chick right there is gorgeous,” Tex exclaimed. He was checking out a petite brunette with tiny pert tits who was grinding her bare pussy on some Wall Street type’s slacks.
"Ain’t nothing here that interests me in the least," I said. We made our way to the bar. “Say what you will and point them out, but I’ll never agree with you.”
"What's it with you and strip joints?" he asked. “You always act like you’re above it. You don’t like to fuck or you don’t like easy girls?” Tex asked me plainly.
I couldn’t help but crack a grin at his interpretation of my behavior.
"Nothing good happens in a hell hole, kid. If the club sold this place tonight, I'd be happy. I don’t deal in the negative, Texas. I only do good. The way I see it, you could burn this whole place to the ground and humanity wouldn’t lose nothing of value."
“Oh really, so you’re too good for it all, huh? You’d let these girls burn?”