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I push back Razor’s judgment, the concern etching his face and the guilt that somehow lingers in my stomach.
It’s time to work, and that’s all I’m going to do.
5
Razor
The clubhouse is booming with laughter and music. It might not be my club, but I’ve been having a good time since I’ve been in LA.
The wooden floorboards creak beneath their heavy steps as they move within the room, fucking around with each other with beers in their hands.
I take a long pull from my beer, reveling in the cold liquid sliding down my throat.
LA wasn’t supposed to be a vacation, but it’s definitely been more relaxing than anticipated.
I suppose it’s a much needed break from everything back home.
After speaking with Amara, I know some shit is going to go down pretty soon. I might as well enjoy the break while I have it.
Breaker has his woman, Kara, sitting on his lap while he nurses a beer.
She has some fruity concoction in her hand, throwing her head back in laughter as Chains tells them something hysterical.
Below their bar is where they have their actual clubhouse, and above it is where a majority of the rooms the brothers sleep in are located, including me.
Hammer sits in a booth in the back with his wife, Shiloh, beside him while someone is on the opposite end of them.
Overall, things are calm here today.
I haven’t seen Oakleigh since I caught her out back in the alley the other day, so I told Python I wanted to meet him at Hidden Treasures.
I knew he wasn’t going to not show up, especially considering it’s a strip club.
The guy has always been a lady’s man, so I’m sure he’ll thoroughly enjoy himself.
Even though I haven’t seen Oakleigh, it doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about her.
When we had sex the night I arrived in LA, I thought I’d get her out of my system.
It was a nice, quick fuck, with not a single string attached.
It was nice, and yet I keep thinking about her.
About the way she grinds up on the pole.
About her soft hands wrapped around my cock.
Even about finding her in the back alley, snorting coke up her nose, obviously fighting an inner battle she isn’t prepared for.
I shouldn’t give a fuck, and yet for some reason I do.
I don’t want to see her go down the same dark path I’ve seen so many others never come out of.
I want the girl to live a long, healthy life, and for her to not bury her pain with a substance.
In a way, I think I care so much because I relate to her.
I’d even go as far as to say that I’ve fought some of the same demons she has.
