Page 17 of Playboy’s Purgatory

I turn toward Opal and struggle to keep my voice level, “Is there somewhere I can go to calm down. I just need a few minutes and then we’ll leave.”

“I can take you to my room,” Playboy offers while pulling a keyring out of his pocket.

My lip curls up in a sneer as I look him up and down. There are so many reasons why I would never say yes to that offer, the least of which being that I have no idea what I would find on his sheets. No fucking thank you. Gross.

Ryker steps closer, his hand landing on my shoulder with a comforting touch. “I’ll take you to my office. You’ll be able to cool down and take a moment to yourself.”

I nod and look toward Vanessa, but Graycie and Vera are already there, wrapping her up in their arms. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll be safe with them.

Just as Ryker starts to lead me away, Vanessa rushes toward me. She wraps her arms around me, her little voice coming out muffled against my shirt as she whispers, “He seemed nice sometimes.”

My fingers glide through her hair while I keep my voice low, “Sometimes things aren’t as they seem. It’s a lesson you learn when you’re young, but adults forget things all the time.”

As Vanessa lets me go, I shoot Playboy one more scathing look. Devastation is written all over his face. Too little, too late.

I barely register anything as Ryker leads me to his office. The moment I’m inside, I break. Tears stream down my cheeks and I press a hand to my mouth to stop the sound of my sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” Ryker’s deep voice is filled with sorrow and something else, something like respect. “Nothing I say will make what my brother has done okay. His behavior towards you surprised all of us because that’s not the guy he usually is.”

He pauses and when I look at him, my cheeks coated in tears and my eyes turning red, his entire face softens. “It doesn’t make it okay, but his birth mother was a club whore who tried to trap Rumble with a pregnancy and use it as leverage to become his Old Lady. She never got the patch or the recognition from Rumble. She got hooked on drugs and ended up overdosing without ever being part of his life.”

My eyes close as the pain of his past hits me, even though I don’t want it to.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” my words are rough and filled with pain.

“No,” Ryker agrees while heading toward the door, “it doesn’t.”

The sound of the door closing behind him is loud in the room, but I welcome it. I just need a few minutes and then I’m taking my daughter home.

No more clubhouse. No more motorcycle club. No more Lola.

Most importantly, no more Playboy.

CHAPTER 4

PLAYBOY

The shock of what just happened, everything Lara said, hits me in waves. That was the most she’s ever said to me at one time, the most I’ve ever allowed her to say at one time. I replay snippets of it back in my mind, but I’m having a hard time grabbing onto anything for longer than a second.

Part of me is still holding on tight to Lola’s version of events, of what she doled out to me over time. Every time she told me about her past, about growing up with Lara, it was like a confession she could no longer hold the weight of.

My stomach roils at the thought of nothing she said to me being true. All of it was a carefully curated lie wrapped up perfectly for my consumption.

Lara said she didn’t know why I became Lola’s mark. But I know why.

Because I was the easiest to fool. Because I’ve been looking for the silver lining in club whores since before I even realized my mommy issues ran so deeply.

Lola reminded me so much of my mother, of her delayed dreams and hopes, even though I never got to know her beyond the bits and pieces I’ve overheard throughout the years.

Sometimes things aren’t as they seem.

Lara’s words drift through my mind again. She was talking to Vanessa, sure, but she was talking to me too.

When did I forget such a simple lesson? When did I stop looking at both sides?

Probably about the time Lola figured out that my bias could be used against me, and she set her sights on me.

Lola isn’t my mother. I know that. But the similarities were too big for me to ignore, and I let them blind me. I allowed my blindness to make me lash out at the one person I thought deserved it.