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“And him?” I ask, pointing my beer towards the other kid in the blue jeans.
“That fuckwad is Beau. Your dad hired him because he is a kickass painter. Shit he can do to bikes is unfuckin’ real, but he has a real fuckin’ shitty attitude.” Flame takes a deep breath and another pull from his beer. “For some reason, those two have been at each other’s throats for about two months now.”
I watch as Wes beats the piss out of Beau. Beau gets some good hits in, but Wes is owning the fight.
Tiny ends up calling the fight when Wes knocks Beau out with a fist to the jaw.
Roars and claps erupt around the ring. “Serves the fucker right. Maybe he’ll knock his shit down a few notches,” Ghost exclaims. “You getting in there, Ring?”
I nod while finishing the last of my beer. “In a little bit. Need something a little stronger first.”
“I understand that. Let’s grab something from inside.”
Reaper and the woman from earlier are sitting at the bar. We take the empty stools next to them.
“Patch, can I get some whiskey?”
The prospect looks up and grins at me, probably for remembering his name. Usually they’re all just referred to as ‘prospect’, but I know how it sucks to be called ‘inmate’. I always had a little more respect for the guards who called us by our actual names. Looking around the club, I notice we have about five or six prospects working right now.
Patch pushes a glass of amber liquid my way, and I swallow the whole thing in one shot. I gesture for another while I welcome the familiar burn as it coats my throat.
He fills it back up. This time, I decide to nurse the glass.
Spinning around on my stool, I watch everyone that has turned the clubhouse into a dance floor. I can tell all of the families must have left by now because I can tell quite a few club girls are milling about through the crowd.
I catch a glimpse of the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. Her dirty blonde, almost brown, wavy hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that puts her beautiful face on display. A Nine Inch Nails cropped shirt comes to a stop just above her narrow waist, paired with short frayed jean shorts that leave only her belly button on display.
“Who the fuck is that?” I say out loud, to no one in particular.
Flame follows my line of vision and, once he finds who I’m staring at, breaks into loud laughter. Fucker looks like he’s about to piss himself.
I look at Reaper, confused. “Am I missing something?”
Reaper also laughs straight in my face. “Look a little closer, brother.”
I look towards the girl and try to place her. I will admit that there is a slight familiarity, but I am at a loss. I know for a damn fact I would remember her.
“Okay can someone just tell me who the fuck that is?”
Reaper’s girl, Sasha, is the one to wreck my world with just four words.
“That’s Reaper’s daughter, Lilah.”
She chose the wrong moment to mutter those words, I nearly choke on my whiskey. My throat and nostrils burn as I try to catch my breath from coughing up the dark liquor.
“That’s Lilah? My fucking Lilah?” I shout, turning to glare at Reaper.
Reaper laughs at my outburst, and I am shocked as I realize what I’ve just said.My Lilah. What the fuck? Yeah, she was like my little sister, but I never claimed her like that. I’ve never claimed her asmine.
“MyLilah. Yup, that’s her. Grew up, huh?” Reaper punches my shoulder with a wicked smirk.
I know I am openly staring at her now, and I don’t even care that her father is sitting right next to me. “The fuck she did. Damn.”
“That’s still my daughter we’re talking about, Ring. Watch it,” Reaper says, feigning seriousness before breaking into a smile and laughing at my surprise.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” I say. I can’t take my eyes off of the beauty I now know is little Lilah, Club Princess. When the fuck did she grow up? She sure as shit didn’t look like that when she was 15. That looks nothing like the Lilah I left behind when I got locked up.
I never let Lilah come see me in prison because I didn’t want her to see me like that. We always had a good time doing crazy, stupid shit, and I didn’t think I could stomach seeing her upset from me being behind bars. Part of it was for selfish reasons. That kid had always looked at me like I hung the moon, and I never wanted that to change.
