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“That would be great. Thanks.”
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
I found my first smile of the day. “I appreciate that, but this is kind of a club thing.”
“Damn,” Jazz said. “I need to get with a biker just so I can be privy to the gossip.”
“You don’t want a biker. They’re nothing but trouble,” I said before I could stop myself.
I headed to the back kitchen. Brooklyn had a blue apron printed with a strawberry design tied around her bulky middle and she was rolling out dough. She looked up, and when she saw me, she smiled.
“Morning,” she greeted.
“You’ve got flour in your hair,” I said.
“I’m not surprised. A bag of flour exploded on me not too long ago.” She peered at me. “You don’t look like you slept last night. Did Smoke keep you up?”
I put a finger to my lips and gestured to Jazz. Jazz came into the back and handed me my latte and a biscotti before heading to the front.
“What’s on your mind?” Brooklyn asked.
“I was wondering how you’re okay with the club owning a strip club?”
Brooklyn stopped mid roll and slowly looked up at me. “Say that again.”
I blinked. “The club owns a strip joint. I just found out last night. Smoke told me, and for the life of me I can’t figure out how the Old Ladies are okay with it.”
She gripped the rolling pin in her hands, her expression tight.
“You knew about this, right?” I asked.
“No,” she croaked. “I had no idea.” She set the rolling pin down on the butcher block counter. “Please tell me how you learned about this.”
I told her about why Smoke had been late last night. “I threw him out,” I said when I came to the end of my story. “I just couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t reconcile it. It felt like he’d lied to me.”
“He definitely lied to you,” she agreed, her mouth pinched.
“He claims he didn’t. But he told me about the half-way house and the health clinic, conveniently leaving out any mention whatsoever about a strip club.”
Brooklyn grabbed a stool that had been underneath the counter and hastily plopped down onto it.
“You look devastated,” I said.
“I am devastated,” she admitted. “Slash never mentioned it to me either.”
“What about the other Old Ladies?” I asked. “Do they know?”
“Let’s find out.” She pulled her cell phone from her apron and fired off a text.
I didn’t expect the replies to come in at such a rapid-fire rate.
“The consensus would seem to be no,” Brooklyn said, setting her phone aside. “None of us knew.”
“That’s bad.”
She nodded. “Very bad.”
Her phone vibrated again. She picked it up and read the text. “You got lunch plans?”
