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Furious and needing to push through her anger Porsche blastedSo Whatby P!nk as her hands trembled. She hated when she cried. It made her face blotchy and her eyes red. Dancing through rage was one thing, but her job was providing an escape and the afterhours of working the men were coming in to rehearse for their show less than a week away.
It wasn’t uncommon for the men to hang out in a group at the Roadhouse. Hack, Mountain, Onyx and Ax were waiting at the bar. She had to get herself together before she helped them with their dances.
Ax caught her wrist when she passed them to head to the dressing room in the back. “Porsche, it’s slow tonight let’s do this thing. I haven’t gotten my moves right yet.”
“Seriously, I went over this with you the other night. It’s not that fucking difficult.” Porsche sniped, yanking her wrist from him and shoving him backward as she tried to walk the line between tough, but fair only her mood wasn’t in a place to help with needy men demanding things of her.
“Damn Porsche, for you maybe,” Hack said. “I’m not—”
“You know what,” she bit pointing her finger in his face, skin raising at the thought he was the one who brought Bugs here. “You need to check your fucking friend before you ask me for shit, Hack. I don’t care if you walk out there and drop trow and whip your dick back and forth to the beat.”
The eyes of the men at the bar all got wide as they leaned back for fear of being the next one to be verbally slapped. That was her fucking point about men touching her when she didn’t want it. The price they would pay increased with each transgression.
Chief, unaware of her outburst, walked over to her. “Hey Porsche, only a few days away. We have to get this put together tonight. All of us are willing to stay late.”
“Seriously, it took your asses two weeks to finally decide you wanted to do it and then I had a life. A place I was needed, but when I was free were the fuck were you? No, you had to be coddled and coaxed like the fucking kittens afraid of coming out of a hole. Well guess what, maybe I don’t give a fuck now.”
“Damn, Porsche, take a chill pill,” Chief said with his hands palm up to her.
Of all the people to demand she take a pill to balance her out, Doc’s Ol’ Man, was walking the line of sending her to the manic side of her bipolar. She’d been taking the drugs his fucking wife had prescribed. That didn’t change the fact life was happening and she was required to live it. More importantly, the drugs didn’t clear a path for her to follow. If anything it opened more roads making her second guess every single option and now thanks to Bugs she wondered if she was trying to break from a controlling man before she couldn’t step away, or if she was letting the first man to want to care for her go over the possibility of losing any semblance she possessed of self.
“Do it yourself! Y’all act as if all we do is shake ass, I can’t help them if they can’t get it right.” Porsche stormed away from Chief and right into Zoe and Topaz.
“Girl you need to cool down. What the hell happened to you to make you this angry. These men are here to help us with a fire truck that’s all.” Zoe reminded her of the goal. “This was your suggestion and refunding people’s tickets isn’t going to get that done.”
“I’m sorry, right now nothing is going right for me. This isn’t how I thought it would be.” Porsche wiped a tear off her cheek. Now she was crying again. What the hell was wrong with her.
“What?” Topaz balked. “The codependent motherfuckers we love needing their asses wiped. Come on girl, you knew full well these guys couldn’t walk and chew gum if we weren’t there holding their hands.”
“The place isn’t dead,” she countered even if only three non-MC members were in the bar. “I need to clear my head, when Lyna’s done with her set have the DJ playBeautiful Traumafor me so I can reset. If it works, I’ll stay until the sun comes up getting these assholes in line.”
Sparkling sequins covered her bra and panties as Porsche slipped on the stilettos with lights in the studded heels. Concealer covered the patches of red and uneven skin as she used eye drops to clear the reddening eyes.
When the instrumental music of the P!nk song brought her a smooth glide to the pole, her hand spinning as she dropped down then back up along the cool metal. The song told of the man who was a drug even with the fights. On the second increase in the tempo she yanked the button down shirt off to expose her sparkling lingerie before climbing the pole to the top. Locking her right leg around the pole she dropped back, core burning as P!nk repeated the words my love, my drug over and over and she spun her way down. Arms outstretched, doing her best to be artistic when it was really for balance. The crowd of MC members and handful of men howling at her skill. Once the vocals ended and the instrumentals resumed she once again twisted her body, accentuating her curves and more as she made her way to the stage and ended. Her back arched on the stage and hair tumbling off the end as bills fell around her like leaves.
She knew she had to break things off with Mike. Dancing was therapeutic in a way he wasn’t. Awash in words, violins and physically exhausted from a feat very few could pull off in the world, she gathered the money gave in appreciation of her dance and made her way to the back.
“Hey Turbo,” Hack said as he sat in the dressing room, forearms balancing on his knees. The tawny skin and dark eyes she’d always seen as kind smiling up at her. “That’s what Mike calls you isn’t it?”
“Having a road name isn’t being claimed.”
“Isn’t it?” he questioned. “Because I’m like thirty seven percent sure it is.”
“Then Mountain claimed Mike because he was the first one to call him Bugs,” she countered stuffing her money into the locker she had and reaching for her t-shirt. “And Bugs doesn’t know the rules of the club.”
“But you do,” he countered. “And you let him call you Turbo.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, her lips in a thin line. “You gonna sit there and watch me get dressed?”
“I watched you get undressed, at least mostly,” he said.
“Okay, I’ll let Preacher Girl know—”
“Fine,” he grumbled and spun in the chair to turn away and covered his closed eyes. “Happy.”
“You know your fuck boy of a friend thinks I’m bought and sold by you.” Snapping off the bra she pulled the t-shirt on and started to shimmy her way back into a pair of cotton panties.
