home with you every night and on weekends.”
“Have you been stalking me?” she said.
“Yeah, I mostly hang out around your bathroom mirror. You’re out of toothpaste by the way.”
They shared a laugh. “You’re right. I pretty much live my job. I have to.”
“Because of the assholes.”
She nodded. “Everything I do is a test, and if I screw up, they’ll hold it against me.”
“I used to think like that,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Still do—to be honest. But I try not to. Look around some time. Those guys you’re competing with, how many of them are divorced?”
She considered this. “Most of them.”
“How many have kids they don’t see?”
She nodded.
“They’re miserable. Right? Same with the club. Everybody’s miserable, trying their damnedest to get a bigger slice of the misery, so they can take it home and say, Look! I won! But, what did they win?”
“So, you’re saying I should join the Peace Corp?”
He laughed. “No, probably not. I’m just saying that I try to enjoy the process as much as I can.” He sipped his beer again. “Let me tell you something about yourself you don’t know. You think you’re tough, and you’re an ass-kicker, and you are; but, you’re also modest. The way you laughed when I complimented you…it’s like you don’t believe you could actually be smart and capable. Face it, you’re a human being. And that’s one thing those assholes you’re trying so hard to impress aren’t. They don’t even know one when they see one.”
She studied his face, causing him to look away. Then, she dropped her head.
“You ever think about getting out of the club?” she asked.
“All the time.” He laughed. “But what would I do? It’s my family.” He said it without emotion. “You see stuff on TV about it or whatever, but it’s not like that. It’s family. Most folks are there for most of the other folks.”
“So, why’s your dad dead and your brother in prison?”
He glanced at her with a hint of annoyance but then nodded. “Yeah, well, sometimes family does bad things. Sometimes they fight, even. But that doesn’t mean they’re all bad.”
“Yeah?” she said.
He shrugged. “You do the best you can.”
“That’s true.”
He looked off across the parking lot. There was a sadness in his gaze that struck her.
“You can still choose. It’s your life.”
“You know, I always just wanted to be a dancer,” he said.
“No shit?” she said.
He gave her a cock-eyed glance and laughed.
“You fucker.” She hit him on the chest, a little surprised at how firm it was.
He hopped up and did a mock pirouette, spinning around with his beer over his head, and lifted his leg to point toward the parking lot. She laughed, hard. He spun again and attempted a moonwalk into the parking lot, making her guffaw.
He stopped and took a drink. His jacket came open, revealing a white tee shirt that was tight in all the right places. She got a hint of his smell, cigarettes and a touch of leather. However, underneath that, there was a musk that made her shudder a little. She drew her arms closer and played it off like it was the chill in the air. This was the first time she’d been close to a man who wasn’t a client—not anymore—in so long she couldn’t even remember the last time.
“Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket and put it on her shoulders before she could stop him. She considered refusing the jacket, but it was already on her. She breathed in his scent and found herself staring at his muscular chest. “Want to see something?” he asked.
She blushed, but before she could get too embarrassed, he rolled his sleeve up to show her a tattoo of the MC logo: a bulldog face with devil horns and the name Devil Dogs written below it.
“My dad got that for me on my sixteenth birthday.” There was something in
“Have you been stalking me?” she said.
“Yeah, I mostly hang out around your bathroom mirror. You’re out of toothpaste by the way.”
They shared a laugh. “You’re right. I pretty much live my job. I have to.”
“Because of the assholes.”
She nodded. “Everything I do is a test, and if I screw up, they’ll hold it against me.”
“I used to think like that,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Still do—to be honest. But I try not to. Look around some time. Those guys you’re competing with, how many of them are divorced?”
She considered this. “Most of them.”
“How many have kids they don’t see?”
She nodded.
“They’re miserable. Right? Same with the club. Everybody’s miserable, trying their damnedest to get a bigger slice of the misery, so they can take it home and say, Look! I won! But, what did they win?”
“So, you’re saying I should join the Peace Corp?”
He laughed. “No, probably not. I’m just saying that I try to enjoy the process as much as I can.” He sipped his beer again. “Let me tell you something about yourself you don’t know. You think you’re tough, and you’re an ass-kicker, and you are; but, you’re also modest. The way you laughed when I complimented you…it’s like you don’t believe you could actually be smart and capable. Face it, you’re a human being. And that’s one thing those assholes you’re trying so hard to impress aren’t. They don’t even know one when they see one.”
She studied his face, causing him to look away. Then, she dropped her head.
“You ever think about getting out of the club?” she asked.
“All the time.” He laughed. “But what would I do? It’s my family.” He said it without emotion. “You see stuff on TV about it or whatever, but it’s not like that. It’s family. Most folks are there for most of the other folks.”
“So, why’s your dad dead and your brother in prison?”
He glanced at her with a hint of annoyance but then nodded. “Yeah, well, sometimes family does bad things. Sometimes they fight, even. But that doesn’t mean they’re all bad.”
“Yeah?” she said.
He shrugged. “You do the best you can.”
“That’s true.”
He looked off across the parking lot. There was a sadness in his gaze that struck her.
“You can still choose. It’s your life.”
“You know, I always just wanted to be a dancer,” he said.
“No shit?” she said.
He gave her a cock-eyed glance and laughed.
“You fucker.” She hit him on the chest, a little surprised at how firm it was.
He hopped up and did a mock pirouette, spinning around with his beer over his head, and lifted his leg to point toward the parking lot. She laughed, hard. He spun again and attempted a moonwalk into the parking lot, making her guffaw.
He stopped and took a drink. His jacket came open, revealing a white tee shirt that was tight in all the right places. She got a hint of his smell, cigarettes and a touch of leather. However, underneath that, there was a musk that made her shudder a little. She drew her arms closer and played it off like it was the chill in the air. This was the first time she’d been close to a man who wasn’t a client—not anymore—in so long she couldn’t even remember the last time.
“Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket and put it on her shoulders before she could stop him. She considered refusing the jacket, but it was already on her. She breathed in his scent and found herself staring at his muscular chest. “Want to see something?” he asked.
She blushed, but before she could get too embarrassed, he rolled his sleeve up to show her a tattoo of the MC logo: a bulldog face with devil horns and the name Devil Dogs written below it.
“My dad got that for me on my sixteenth birthday.” There was something in
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