“Money problems are tough. I know,” I said, wishing I could alleviate the tension and knowing that the problems in the room went deeper than what I could fix.
Sable lowered her voice. “He always retreats to the clubhouse when we have an argument, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”
“Well, I’m happy to give him a ride,” I said, trying to be helpful. “I have to admit that I’m a little curious to see an MC.”
“Oh, it’s nothing but a bunch of old, immature drunks. At least that’s what it is now. It wasn’t always, but since the money’s dried up, all they can do is sit around and bitch like a bunch of old ladies.”
“Do you mind if we go?” I asked.
Sable looked a little surprised that I’d asked. “Can’t stop you, and it might be good for him to cool off a little. You can just leave him there, and I’ll pick him up in the morning.”
“He’s going to spend the night there?”
“Does it all the time. He keeps a room there, and sometimes it’s good for us to get a break from one another.”
“Okay, then. If you’re sure it’s all right, I’ll go offer to drive.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, and I couldn’t tell who was right — or if they both were wrong — but I knew that I wasn’t going to sit around and listen to Sable and Joker argue all night.
“Joker,” I called. “You wanna show me your club? I’ll drive.”
“Yeah,” he answered, getting another beer from the refrigerator. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
Chapter 12
Krystal
By the time I was ready to head to the Sons’ clubhouse, I was spoiling for a fight. I’d thought about everything that Bug had said and done to me, and I was pissed. I know I hadn’t exactly set myself up to be treated like a queen when I’d started hanging around the Savage Sons, but I was starting to think that maybe — at the ripe old age of twenty-five — I was starting to grow up a little.
I looked in the mirror, studying my reflection and thinking about what I expected from the evening ahead. Bug had wanted hot? I was gonna give it to him … and then some. My hair looked like I’d just rolled out of bed after spending hours having kinky sex — long, dark, tousled waves framed my face. My eyes were lined with smoky black liner, and I’d slicked nude gloss on my lips to emphasize my eyes even more. The best part, though, was that I’d emphasized every single asset that I had with my wardrobe choices.
Bug would recognize the clothing that I had on, but no one else would. I was wearing an absolutely skin tight black dress that I usually wore only in the bedroom. The hemline barely covered my crotch, and cutouts on each side made my hips look super curvy and my waist look tiny. The top was cut so low that the pushup bra I wore made it look like I could spill out of the dress any minute, and the fabric was so sheer that every now and then, it looked like you could almost see my nipples. I’d worn my highest heels — ones that Bug hated because they made me at least two inches taller than he was. My legs were bare, and I’d smoothed on lotion with a slight shimmer, so they looked toned and fantastic.
I slipped on a black leather jacket just in case I needed to cover up at some point, picked up my keys and my phone, and I headed out to the car. As I drove, I wondered what Bug was gonna do when he saw me. There was no telling. He might be turned on and decide to treat me like something other than a piece of shit. Or he could be pissed that I was showing so much skin, and he might pick a fight. I realized that I was ready for anything. It would have been one thing if he was helping me with my bills. I might have been willing to accept his typical alpha-male wannabe bullshit if he wasn’t also asking me to pay for his fucking beer at the club. The more I thought about it, the madder I got.
If Bug didn’t appreciate me, I told myself that I could find something better.
***
When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw that it was pretty full for a Sunday night, and based on the ratio of Savage Sons’ bikes to cars in the lot, I figured that most of the people were in the section of the building that was reserved only for the Sons and their guests. The other half of the club operated as a kind of social club that served drinks to folks in the neighborhood that the Sons trusted to drink their beers and not complain to the authorities about things like smoking indoors and an occasional impromptu strip show. The Sons had run hookers out of the club for a while, but after Moses was killed, they had decided that it would be smart to lie low for a while.
I checked my lipgloss in the mirror and headed toward the unmarked door. Bug had never given me a keycard that would let me enter on my own, so I just waited until I heard the door buzz. Whoever who was manning the security cameras had been pretty quick on the draw.