She studies me carefully, pats my hand, and stands up straight. “What can I get you?”
“Rum and Coke.”
“Coming up. On the house, of course.” She winks and walks off to retrieve my drinks.
I spot Mimi walking over and waving.
She’s still clad in black hot pants and the club tank top, so I know she’s not off the clock yet. She comes over and hugs me. “Hey, girl. I’m just waiting to cash out and I’m all yours for the night.”
“Good, I could use a healthy dose of estrogen.”
“I couldn’t tell with the way you two have been locked away in the house.”
My face heats as I think of all the things we’ve been doing.
Mimi throws her head back and laughs. “You don’t have to say a word. It’s written across your face, plain as day.”
“What?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.” She smirks. “I’ll go see if I can get my last receipt and close my tab.” She disappears back
into the crowd.
I know I’m going to get grilled later. I don’t mind it. I remember old ladies gathering in clumps to talk about what they had going on. I never felt like I could relate. I envied their closeness. The women of KOC band together. It’s how they get by and deal with the craziness that can come our way at any moment. They had a common denominator I always felt I lacked. My mom was never really welcome among them. They tolerated her, but she was just a few notches up from club property in their eyes. The shame from childhood creeps in, paralyzing me.
What would she say if she saw me now?
I scan the crowd once more and wrap my arms around my waist. It’s my secret fear that she’ll come back and find a way to fuck up the happiness I’ve recently acquired. She was like that. An evil stepmother come to life, only she was flesh and blood, which made it all the more painful. She couldn’t stand to have the spotlight taken away, or allow me to enjoy anything. I think she figured, if she was miserable then I sure as hell would be, too. I was a scapegoat for her poor choices. It took me years to learn that, but once I got it, it gave me wings and protection for my badly broken heart. No matter who you are, or how loved you are by others…there’s something to acceptance, love, and affection from your parents. I wasted so many years trying to get them to see me, love me, and be proud.
Sandy sets a drink down in front of me.
Smiling in thanks, I pick up the tumbler and take a healthy swallow. The smooth drink rolls down my throat and warms my belly. I continue to sip and listen to the music as I force my issues into the black box in the back of my mind where I like to keep them chained. It’s left me unable to find closure.
She left without saying a word.
Mimi reappears in street clothes, with her oversized black purse slung over shoulder. “You starting without me?”
“This is my first, I’ve been nursing it. How’ve you been?”
“Good. Busy with work and Riker. He’s been doing a lot of rides, so I’ve been crafting, Netflix binging, and hugged up to him every second he’s here.”
“You should’ve called me. I would’ve kept you company,” I say, ashamed by my semi-abandonment.
“No, I knew you needed time to settle into your new situation, and we all know you’ve been working hard on opening the store, then getting your gemologist certification. Besides, it’s part of the life. We all go through it at one point or another.”
“Yeah. What about the other old ladies?”
“They’re nice, but there aren’t many of us new generation. Other than the club, we don’t have a lot in common.” She shrugs. “But now I can say officially you’re welcomed to the club. I’m damn glad to have you.”
I laugh. “I’m glad to be here, surprisingly.”
“You never thought about wearing a patch before?” Mimi lifts an eyebrow.
“I did, but none of the guys appealed to me. They were either still in playboy mode, older, or just people I never viewed that way.”
“Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”
“You’re telling me,” I say.