“They were here because they’re the scum of the earth who consider women property and don’t like it when they get told otherwise,” Asher cut in.
I restrained a snort. Despite the sorrow edging into the forefront of my mind, I couldn’t help but see the irony.
Asher saw something in my face. “We never see women as property, flower. Not our club. Women aren’t possessions to be owned and traded. Any fucker that thinks that is someone that needs to taste lead,” he declared hotly.
“And who are these specific … fuckers?” I asked softly.
Lucky, who had been seriously regarding Bex, let out a choked sound. We all looked at him. He waved his hand.
“Sorry, shit. I’m well aware of the need to teach these fuckers a serious lesson. But I wasn’t even sure you could utter the word ‘fuck,’ Lily,” he told me seriously.
Despite myself, I grinned. I was the only one.
“You know Bex’s boss?” Asher asked, getting us back on track.
I nodded. “I’ve had the displeasure.”
His face tightened. “The strip club serves as a recruiting tool for his main business, peddling flesh,” he stated flatly.
I nodded again.
Asher looked at me in surprise.
“You knew?” he asked.
“No, but I’m not surprised. That guy gave me the serious heebie-jeebies,” I declared, my concerned eyes on Bex. I didn’t know where this story was leading, but it wasn’t anywhere good for my troubled best friend.
“Bex?” I said slowly, needing the rest to come from her.
“I said no,” she told me quickly, as if I would doubt her, judge her. I would never do either. We all did what we had to do to survive, to make it through. There were choices that people had to make that weren’t pretty or ideal, but they were necessary.
“Or I may have used more colorful words than a one syllable response, just to get my message across.” She grinned, a glimpse of the old Bex shining through. “I thought that was the end of it. Obviously not,” she finished.
I felt like I’d missed something. “That’s why those thugs were here? To bully you into prostitution?” I guessed.
The way the air turned wired had me thinking my guess was correct. I glanced over to a hard-jawed Lucky.
“Thing one and thing two came knocking at the door, trying to intimidate the little female into letting them in or they’d huff and puff and blow my house down. Didn’t count on the fact I’d seen way worse than them. And I had bigger, badder, wolves on speed dial,” Rosie spoke for the first time, grinning, as was her way. Growing up with bikers had her slightly insane. In a good way.
“I don’t get it,” I said, furrowing my brows. “Carlos may be an asshole, but he can’t expect you to go back working there after that? What did he have to gain from it?” I asked Bex.
She shrugged. “The fact I’ve got nothing else. That I need to eat.”
My eyes popped out. “You’re not going back there?” I asked in disbelief.
She obviously hadn’t been to work in the past few days, for obvious reasons. Reasons that hadn’t been shared with the group. Reasons I tried to remind her of with her mind. The slippery slope of addiction was one thing that should have scared her off, this was another. Like she said, she had to eat. Sometimes we didn’t have the luxury of choice.
“Since I’ve been sick,” she enunciated the word as if to remind me. “I’ve obviously been missed. My ass is the only reason that place makes anything. That and my boobs,” she winked.
“So you’re going back?” I repeated with distaste.
“She’s not fuckin’ setting a toe in that shit hole’s direction,” Lucky growled, his eyes glued to Bex.
She straightened. “I am,” she argued.
Another stare off. This time Bex won.
Lucky sighed and shook his head. “You wanna take your clothes off, show the world that sweet ass, you’ll be doing it at our club. Where I can keep a fuckin’ eye on that ass,” he declared. “And where no one puts a hand on you trying to sell that ass,” he added roughly.
Bex opened her mouth as if to argue. I knew she was doing it just to argue, the Sons club had a good reputation, and they treated and paid their girls well. No drugs were tolerated on the premises either. She’d talked about moving there before, but couldn’t justify the commute. I had yet to tell her about my mom’s house and the lack of commute. When I did, she would realize that Lucky was solving all her problems. Therein lay the rub.
Bex may be different than me in every other way, but in this, we were the same. We didn’t want these men riding in on their Harleys fixing our problems as if we weren’t capable of living life until they came along. On giving them power. Taking that agency away from us. No matter how decent, how good looking, how much we might care about said men, our lives were not set out to be sorted out for us. We needed this. To be in control of our lives. Or at least grab on to the illusion of control. Without it we had nothing.