AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t,” I whisper.
“She’s a whore. You are an old lady. The two do not fucking intersect.”
Narrowing my eyes, I am trying to make sense of his words, but nothing about them makes any sense to me at all.
“Old lady?” I ask, my brain picking out those two words and wanting to know more about them more than anything.
He lets out a sigh as if he’s annoyed with me, which he probably is because it seemed like he was on a mission to be angry with that woman. She was kind of a bitch to me, so I wouldn’t be opposed to her being yelled at, but at the same time, I want to understand what’s happening here.
“It means you’re my woman. It’s your label.”
“I’m not sure…”
He chuckles, the anger having left his face. “It doesn’t mean I think you’re old. It’s just tradition.”
“Okay,” I exhale. “But I don’t understand why she isn’t allowed to talk to me.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Whores and old ladies do not mix. It’s not done. She knows her place, and even if she didn’t know exactly who you were, she shouldn’t have said shit about shit.”
“Is this one of those things that I’m just going to have to accept that I probably will never understand, kind of like the whole concept of… whores?” I ask, whispering the word because there is something icky about saying it aloud.
I don’t even know why.
I usually don’t give words even a second thought. They don’t mean anything unless you attach a meaning. I’m sure it’s something deep-seated, though. And I have no doubt that seed was planted by my mother.
“That’s exactly what it is,” he says, giving me a wink.
Against my better judgment, I suck in a deep breath and release his loops. “I’ll go with you. Just let me get dressed.”
His lips curve up into a huge smile, and he nods his head, his gaze searching mine. Then he chuckles as I throw my legs over the side of the bed and grab my clothes from the floor. Putting them on, I make my way over to my bag and root around for the outfit that I brought for the party. It’s a black pair of shorts and an off-the-shoulder satin top that is probably too dressy for this crew, but I don’t think any of them would care what I have on.
In fact, I don’t think they would even blink if I was completely naked.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
KING
Taking her hand, I grip it tightly and move out of the room, down the hall, then down the stairs with her trailing behind me. I know she’s reluctant to go to the party, but this is her life now, so she better get fucking used to it.
The music thrums through the bar, people talking and shouting all around me, and instead of walking straight up to Poison, I decide that I need a drink. And I need a fucking drink now. Zombie is behind the bar. Without a single word, he slides a beer toward me, then he flicks his attention to Shawn.
“What can I get for you?” he asks when I don’t place her order.
It’s not my order to place. She’s an adult, and she can order her own drinks and food. Bringing my beer to my lips, I take a pull as I watch the exchange of Shawn and Zombie. I almost laugh when she leans across the bar to ask for something sweet.
Zombie’s gaze flicks to mine, and I can tell he wants to say something else to her, no doubt flirty and possibly sexual, but because I’m standing here, he thankfully refrains. I don’t feel like getting in a fight tonight, so I’m glad.
“Best I got for you is some vodka and Sprite, babe,” Zombie mutters.
“Okay,” she says.
He jerks his chin, then scoops some ice, pours some vodka, and then tops it off with Sprite. Shawn naturally says a kind thank-you, then turns to me, lifting her drink to her lips and taking a sip.
“That was Zombie,” I explain. “He’s not a member of the club yet. He wants to be. He’s called a prospect.”
And that’s how the evening goes. I tell Shawn about every member of the club, only pausing when one appears at our side, and then I introduce them to one another. Everyone already knows Shawn, though. She made the amazing cupcakes. My little baker.
