“Figures. Pussy always rules. I get it.” He grumbles.
Putting her hand on his shoulder, she leans into him and whispers, “That’s exactly right. Remember that ‘n you’ll have no trouble landin’ a woman.”
“You wanna be that woman, Lailah?” He tries again. I hate this easy flirting shit between her and every other brother here.
“I’m gonna have to pass, but thank you.”
“Come on, ya know ya want this,” he says grabbing his dick and shaking it at her.
“Put your shit away, motherfucker,” He catches another fist to the gut.
“F … fuck, alright,” he groans, holding his hands up. He looks back at Lala and smiles. I know what he’s doing. He thinks he’s slick, but he’s really just plain fucking stupid. “If you change your mind sweetness, come find me,” A new girl named Diamond saunters by and just like that, his attention is elsewhere.
“Hi,” she chirps at me. Twisting in her seat to face me, she closes her eyes for a second like she’s trying to wait for a dizzy spell to pass.
“Too much to drink, Lala?”
“Possibly.”
A bunch of laughing follows Lil and the girls over to us. Throwing themselves all over Lala, they tug her out of her seat and away from me. Come on bitches, I just fucking got her.
“Let’s go outside, love bug!” Lil squeals. Tugging on her hand, Lil pulls her toward the door.
“Save my seat Rampage,” And just like that she’s gone… again.
I’ve been sitting here a while, drinking and not doing a fuckin’ thing when Lala flops down next to me a few hours later.
“You saved it for me?” She puffs out a drawn out breath and smiles. Not so much as saved it, no one wants to hang with a broody asshole like me right now, so yeah, I guess I did fucking save it.
“You still drinkin’ babe?”
Shaking her head, she yawns and says, “Nope. I stopped a while ago.”
“Good.”
For a while she just sits next to me, both of us in a comfortable silence.
“Rampage?”
“What?” I snap. I’ve never really thought about how I sound to other people, but I finally hear what an asshole sounds like, but she doesn’t seem fazed by my rudeness.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“What the fuck?”
“Your favorite color, what is it?” She repeats and pushes her shoulder into mine. “ I would like to get to know you a little better, and this seems like a reasonable way to start. So let me try again. What is your favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite movie? Do you like ice cream?
“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?”
“No, not at all. I think those are fairly simple questions, don’t you?” She asks.
“Fine. My favorite color is Black. Favorite food is steak. Don’t have any favorite movie, and yes, I like ice cream. Is that all?”
She leans in closer and smiles. She is just all sweet and innocence. That shit is so goddamn potent it damn near blinds me.
“Lala what the fuck are you doin’?” I say in a low, seductive way as I stare into her eyes. She loses her smile and I realize she has no clue, no fucking idea what she’s leading herself into.
“Yeah Lala, I don’t mind ice cream at all.”
Lala
Looking away from Rampage after his question, I take in the people around us, all of who seem to openly gawk at us, especially the club’s gash girls. I can’t tell if it’s because he seems so mean and intimidating, or if they are just jealous.
“Rampage?”
“What now, Lala?” He grumbles. He’s leaning back against the couch, an arm thrown over the back¸ holding a drink in one hand, and a joint in the other. He looks bored.
“Why is everyone staring at us?” He just shrugs his shoulder.
I have no clue what possessed me to sit with Rampage in the first place. When I walked in, leaving Lil outside, he was sitting alone on the same couch I left him on. I watched as people walked by him, giving him a wide berth and avoiding his eyes. I don’t know why I figured I should be the person to keep him company, but I did. I didn’t want him sitting alone. My constant need to make everyone feel better or included might be the reason, but it feels like a lot more than that. He pulls me to him whether I want to admit it or not.
He doesn’t talk a whole lot to anyone. Hell, he doesn’t talk to me much either, but he doesn’t ignore me. Something about Rampage makes me curious, a little scared, but curious nonetheless.
“Don’t know, babe. I know I don’t care. Do you care? Do I look like a someone who gives a fuck what these assholes think of me?”
“No.”
“That’s right, babe. I don’t give a flyin’ fuck.”
Well that settles it. It seems we both have the same attitude when it comes to whether we care what other people think of us. I think I’m starting to see what pulls me to him.
I sit with Rampage for a while, watching people. I watch the gash throw themselves at any man that gives them an ounce of acknowledgement. They’re desperation is sick, but it really makes me sad to see. I see glimpses of my mom in each woman here. For her, and for these girls, it’s the love for the party, the thrill of the chase, and most importantly, the validation from men through sex. Once the party is over, the chased has been caught, and the sex has been played out, they are left with the hurt and sadness in being replaced immediately by the next conquest. It’s a vicious cycle that I’ve steered clear of my entire life.
I watch the guys drinking, playing pool, and see the bonds they all share. Although there is a serious pecking order, they all seem to show each other some form of respect. Whether it be a non-member giving a member his seat, or people they call ‘prospects’ serving drinks, cleaning up, and doing various other duties, there is a level of respect in everything each person does in this club. They have their own world of rules here, but I can see the basics at work.
“You good, Lala?” Rampage asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Yep. I’m good.” A few guys walk inside and they all look over at us. Some give respectful head nods, while the others just stare.
“Got shit to do,” He grumbles, grabbing and squeezing my upper thigh.
“Okay. Thanks Rampage, ya know, for keeping me company,” It was nice just to sit with someone. He may not have spoken to me much, but his company was appreciated.
“Not sure how good a company I was, but sure, Lala.”
“I just appreciate you hanging with me for a bit.”
Giving me a quick nod, he heaves himself up from the couch. Giving a chin lift toward the guys, he calls, “Got shit to discuss… now, motherfuckers.” They all come his way. Not one of them says a word as they follow him to the bar.
“See ya around, Rampage.”
Looking over his shoulder at me, he nods once and points, “I’ll be back soon, so save my seat.”
I watch him and the guys take their seats around the bar. I turn back around to do more people watching when a man, I think they called him Blue or something, sits down next to me and throws his arm over my shoulders. The heavy smell of booze and smoke are overwhelming to my nose.
“Whatcha’ ‘doin’ all by yas lonesome, baby doll?” He slurs sloppily at me. His hand cups my shoulder and squeezes. I try to scoot away, but no such luck, he keeps me close.
“Just sittin’ here people watching.”
“Yous looked ‘a wittle lonely.” Far from it, actually. I try again to scoot away, but this time he jerks me closer to him, his hand tightening on my shoulder, “Yous stayin’ right ‘ere.” I’m not gonna get away from him without making a scene, so I’m stuck.
Running a dirty finger down my arm, he leans into me, his face inches from mine, “Hab a wittle fun wit me tanight,” His lips brush against my cheek when he speaks and I gag from the smell of his stale breath. I’m trying stop the next one from coming, but It’s almost impossible.
“I don’t think so.” I tell him. What I’d like to say is ‘get the hell away from me’, but I’m trying not to upset anyone here.
His finger trails down my arm to my hand that’s in my lap. I go to remove his hand away from me when I hear Rampage shout violently through the clubhouse, “BLUE!”
Peeking over my shoulder, Rampage’s eyes meet mine and he looks pissed. His face is contorted into a rage filled fury.
Suddenly it’s silent. He slams his hands on the bar top, rattling the glasses, “Remove your fucking hand before I do that shit for you,” he warns.
Instantly Blue moves away from me, jumping off the couch and walks toward the other side of the room.
Turning my eyes back to Rampage, he points at me and says, “Lala, c’mere.” For a moment I hesitate, embarrassed at being called out and becoming the center of attention.
“Get the fuck up ‘n c’mere,” he yells at me this time. Where his voice sounds mean, his eyes soften and lose that dark edge as he looks at me, so I get up. Making my way toward him, I stop a few cautious feet away. He stands up and closes the distance between us.
“You okay?” I just nod. Landing hard eyes on Blue he growls, “Me ‘n you got shit to discuss.” Looking back at me, he tells me sternly, “Stay at the bar.” Not going to argue that.