"You too."
Hanging up, I flip the switch on the open sign, shutting it off, then I go finish my work. After the inventory is counted and the floors have been swept, I stock racks and shelves with the merchandise we have stored in the back room. I count the money in my register and write down my totals, grinning when I verify that it’s not missing one penny and take it to Demon in the office. “Here you go.” I hand him the blue bag to put in the safe.
His response is a low grunt, and he doesn’t lift his head to look at or acknowledge me. I roll my eyes and grab my backpack off the empty chair before leaving the office and heading to the bathroom.
Slipping out of my knee-length baby blue skirt and white button-down top, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I shake off the sickening thoughts of what I’ll be doing tonight and start pulling what I need out of my backpack. Leaving on my white silky bra and panties, I replace my conservative clothes with a pair of fishnet hose, black booty shorts, and a cut-off white top that barely covers my well-endowed breasts. My baby blue ballerina slippers get turned in for black thigh-high heeled boots.
I pull my hair out of the tight ponytail, letting my dark locks fall around my shoulders and down my back. My fingers fluff my hair, messing it up a little for more volume. Next, I rid my face of the light makeup only to reapply with thicker eyeliner, heavier eyeshadow, and brighter lipstick. If I'm going to be a whore, I might as well look like one, right? Lastly, I pull on my knee-length black coat, hiding the way I’m dressed for when I walk out of this building. That's all I need, to be mistaken for a hooker.
After shoving my stuff down into my backpack, I clean the bathroom and make sure the trash is empty. I retrieve my purse from under the sales counter in the shop and meet Demon in the office, plopping down into the empty chair. “You about ready?”
Another grunt in response. I give him an over-exaggerated sigh and pull my phone out of my purse to play a game while I wait. An hour later, I’m in my car heading to the clubhouse with him behind me on his Harley.
I sit in my car for a few minutes, staring at the one place I don’t want to be: the clubhouse. It makes me angry to come here, but at the same time, I have a feeling of gratefulness for what the club has done for me. Sighing, I tap on the phone screen and hit Pudge’s name in my contacts. While waiting for her to answer, I glance into the rearview mirror and check my makeup. “Hey, girl!”
I smile when I hear her voice. Pudge always gives me a sense of peace within myself, and she doesn’t realize it. I don’t know what I would ever do without her. "You and me, tomorrow night, fair and rodeo." I laugh into the phone.
"Yay! She gave you the night off! Oh my God, I'm excited! We’re going to have so much fun."
My eyes are glued to the clubhouse as I respond absently, "Yeah, we are."
Pudge must hear something in my voice because she’s quiet for a minute. "Where are you?"
I mumble, "The clubhouse."
"You gonna be okay?" Her tone turns serious, which doesn't happen very often. “You know you can move in here with me anytime, right?”
I sigh into the phone. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I gotta go."
"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. If you need anything, just call me. Love you, girl." "I love you too." I throw my phone into my bag and remove my coat. I don’t need to wear it here, there’s no point in trying to hide my body.
I stand outside of my car with my hand still on the door as I stare at the clubhouse. “It’s just another day.” I breathe and square my shoulders before strutting toward the clubhouse door.
When I step inside, the stench of alcohol and smoke surrounds me. It takes every ounce of nerve I have not to turn around and run to my car. I could easily escape, but in the back of my mind, Bulk’s voice screams at me. Loud music blares in my ears, and the sight before me makes me want to vomit. You would think that I’d be used to this life by now, it’s all I’ve ever known, but that’s not the case. I’m not used to it, and I never will be. I don’t want this, which makes me hate it all the more.
Once you cross over that threshold and enter the compound of a motorcycle club, it's like stepping into a whole new universe. You're in the world of outlaws, criminals, guys who won't hesitate to take you down. They handle business themselves even if that means someone has to die.
Outside the compound gates, where law-abiding citizens roam, if there is a hint of trouble, people pick up the phone to call the police. Here, it’s different. The club has its own set of rules and laws. Two vastly different worlds that survive in the same space.
The bar is lined with bikers wearing their cuts and showing off what they represent. The whores like me are barely clothed as they run about, trying to catch the eye of one man, or several, in the hope they’ll be picked for the night. Most of them have this dream of showing a man a good enough time that he'll put that property cut on her back. It’s a fucking stupid dream, and they need to get their heads out of the clouds. I hate to break it to these bitches, but it's never going to happen. All they are ever going to be are whores with holes that these guys use to get their dick wet.
The hang-arounds tend to stay close to the tables, minding their own business. They want somewhere to party and to have a good time, but they don't want to piss off one of the members. If they do that, then they’re banned, never to return. There have been a few instances where one felt frisky, but they were quickly shut down and thrown out.
I’m heading down the hall toward Hanger’s office when Chayser stops me. "You're with me tonight, Shug."
I give him my best fake smile. “Yeah, okay. Just give me a minute, I have to talk to Hanger."
His hand lands on my ass with a hard smack, making me grit my teeth to keep my mouth shut. "Sure thing. Come find me when you're done." I nod as he leaves me standing here.
I'm kind of thankful it's Chayser tonight. He's become a friend, I guess you could say. He's one of the gentler guys and young, which is a plus. Sometimes, the guys get too wasted, not realizing what they’re doing, and get a little rough. I wouldn’t mind the roughness if I chose it. But Chayser talks to me in a way the others don’t. They get what they want, then I’m out the door. With Chayser, it’s not always about sex, and he makes me feel like a person instead of an object.
I knock on Hanger’s office door and stand there anxiously.
"Come in,” his deep voice instructs.
Stepping inside, I close it behind me. "Hey, Hanger. Can I talk to you for a minute? I don't wanna bother you, though."
He glances up at me, furrowing his brows. "Sit, Shug. You ain't bothering me. What's up?"
I drop down in the chair across from him. “I...I wanted to let you know that I won't be around tomorrow night." I bite my lip nervously, waiting for his reply and drop my gaze to my lap.
Hanger's deep chuckle fills the room. "Shug, look at me." When I do, he continues, "You don't have to come and tell me if you ain't gonna be around. This isn't a job, honey, and honestly, I don’t know why the fuck you do it or live here?"
My eyes widen as my head tilts to the side. "You know why, Hanger. I owe you and this club."