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Dani is having none of that nonsense.
Raucous laughter echoes around the space. It isn’t a huge club, but it can hold enough for a proper show and enough to bring in steady money each night with its various shows and ventures. Dani built it up well before she handed it off to my brother.
Tonight, all the tables have been pushed back toward the entrance to make standing room only for S.A.M. to play. You can’t have a pit with tables in the way. Metalheads can get pretty rowdy and tables are a danger.
The walls are black, the floor a glossy pale gray. Deep purple drapes adorn the walls and the stage, along with high-back leather booths running down the length of the place on either side. They’re flush with the walls and safely out of the way.
I recognize the playful laughter to come from one of the Donovan triplets—Maverick. Dani’s shrill giggle follows the sounds, drawing me to the back of the place. Another beat later, Dani shoots out onto the stage dressed in black jeans, thick-healed, dark leather boots that crawl up to her thick thighs and a lavender colored shirt that hasLeather and Laceelegantly printed on the front. She must be serving tonight. Such an odd thing for a gang leader to do, but no one questions her anymore. Her ways are wholly unconventional, but they work. Her people are prospering and safe. Behind chunky rimmed glasses, her emerald eyes find mine. Her brows shoot up her forehead and her eyes go wide with excitement.
“Benny!” she squeals, slapping her hand over her mouth.
“No fuckin’ way,” Maverick bellows as he sidles up behind her, placing his hands on her ample hips.
“Hey, guys.” Thankfully—or unfortunately, I haven’t decided—I’m no longer drunk enough to slur my words, so they come out clearly and in no way mirroring how I feel on the inside. It’s the facade I’ve learned to put in place to keep people from having to see the pain I deal with. They don’t know how to deal with that pain. It makes them awkward and causes them to fumble around me, so I act like I’m fine.
“Dank is just finishing up in his office. I’m sure he’ll be out in a moment,” Danny tells me, the flush in her cheeks subsiding. Who knows what the hell Maverick was doing to cause it in the first place?
“Thanks, I’ll just wait,” I say and motion to one booth.
“Okay, sweetheart. It’s good to see you.” When her chipper mood falters a bit, I know what is about to come out of her mouth. I strengthen my resolve, willing myself not to let my emotions get the better of me. “I’m sorry to hear about Lennox. If there is anything at all that I or the Devils can do, don’t hesitate, okay?”
Asking for help is something I have thought a great deal about. I know for sure the Devils could help me, but I’ve given up that life. Haven’t I? I’ve put in all this work… I can’t fold because it’s getting difficult and I’m getting desperate. Weston has respected my wishes enough thus far, not to mention that the Devils can help, opting to stick behind the life I’ve chosen. Still… as each day goes by, Trace’s move to join the Hellions is looking more and more appealing. Irrational as it may be.
“Thank you for the offer, Dani. That means more than you know.” Offering me a smile of caring and understanding, she grabs Maverick’s hand, who salutes me, and they saunter off the stage. The giggles start up not long after, filtering through from the back rooms.
No longer a guard but a businessman, Wes peeks his head around the wall leading to the dressing rooms. When he sees it’s me, he frowns, eyes immediately filling with sympathy and compassion. My brother may be rough around the edges, but he’s a good damn guy.
“Hey,” he says, the word barely more than a grunt. Sharp eyes scan his surroundings despite being in his own, locked up club. A habit he’ll never grow out of and I don’t want him to because it keeps him safe.
My words are stuck in my throat along with the ball of emotion that seeing my brother brings. I work to stand on tired legs. Wes wastes no time descending the stairs to the right of the stage and marching across the glossy floor to get to me. Without a word, he wraps me in the biggest hug, his hold tight. I bury my head in his shoulder and a sound of pain and agony escapes me.
“What is it? Have you found her? Is she okay?”
“I’m failing,” I tell him, the words choked as I regain my composure. “I’m failing miserably. She’s gone and I can’t find her.”
“What? No, you’re not. Sit down, let’s get you some water. You look like shit.”
“Need more booze.” He chuckles, but it’s a sound laced with unease and worry.
“I’m certain that’s the last thing you need, but if you want more, then you’re staying with me and Shelly for the night.” I check my wrist where a watch doesn’t exist.
“Easy, the night is already over,” I murmur.
“Fucker,” he grumbles and guides me by the shoulders into the booth. He stands next to the table to peer down at me. “What do you want to drink?”
Much to his chagrin, I say, “A bottle of whatever.”
“I’ll get you a hefty tumbler.”
“Bottle,” I counter.
“Benny.”
“Weston. A bottle. If I’m staying, then a bottle.” I scroll my eyes up to him, the movement making me a little nauseous. Glowering at me, he crosses his arms over his chest.
“You’re not okay, are you?”
“At the moment, I feel pretty good thanks to the bottle I polished off in Northgate. Generally, though, I’d say I’m not okay.”
