Page 167 of 12 Months of Mayhem

Chapter One

Powerhouse

“Happy Birthday to you…” The group sings, making me break out in a wide grin the entire time. Never before did we sing on birthdays, but here we are. In the middle of a strip club. My favorite place to be. My MC brothers and their ol’ ladies crooning the notes to the Birthday song for me.

“Thanks,” I chin lift to Gem, Prez’s ol’ lady. She’s the reason they all started bellowing the old tune, garnering the attention of every patron in the joint.

“House, you tried to steal the thunder from Christmas but couldn’t make it, huh? Your poor mom, brother, the woman just wanted a quiet December.” Blow gives me shit, as he does every year about my birthday being close to Christmas.

I flip him off. “Fuck off, she got the best present.”

The guys guffaw at my lame reply, but I don’t give a shit. I enjoy making people laugh; I always have. I also enjoy caving faces in, but I keep a lid on it for the most part. I fight for the club on occasion, especially when we’re on a dry spell and need to bring in a quick burst of cash.

Tonight, however, there will be no fights. Nope, not on my birthday. Instead, I celebrate with the people who mean the most to me, in a place full of beautiful women swaying their hips to hypnotic beats.

“Powerhouse!” Two of the strippers greet me as they each choose a side and scoot under my arms to snuggle up against my sides. They squeeze my middle, smiling up at me. “Happy Birthday, big guy!” they say as I lean down to hear them better over the music. One kisses my cheek, while the other lays a juicy peck against my lips.

Did I mention this is my favorite place already? These girls love me, but I’d love me too, I suppose. I’m not a creepy pervert; I help reach things that’re too high for them to get to, and I keep them safe. I started stopping in here because Prez wanted me to scope the place out, and I quickly realized it was someplace I could let my guard down a bit and chill. The dancers here all dote on me, bringing me home-cooked shit and various other things they think a grown, single man needs in his life.

Shaylin brings me vitamins. Regardless of the fact that I work out a ton to stay in fighting and club shape, and I own the best protein powder and supplements to keep my ass looking like a big ol’ tank, when they found out I don’t take a daily multivitamin, you’d think I’d broken a cardinal rule. I’m waiting for the day she starts asking me how much water I drink daily—I know it’s coming.

There’s Mami Maria from Puerto Rico, who brings me a fresh batch of rice each week. The woman can cook like nobody’s business. I’ve talked her into opening a food truck; she’s just saving up enough cash to make it happen. I already promised I’d be swinging by on the reg for grub and to check in on her. There’s no way I’m allowing her to buy a food truck without me looking it over and letting her get taken advantage of. I’ll fuck someone up if they try hustling her ‘cause she’s a feisty little four-and-a-half-foot lady.

Roxy, she’s a crazy bitch. I say that respectfully. She’s nuts, always coked up and jumping on dudes, ready to fuck. I’ve protected her from being raped a few times, so each night when she leaves, she pops a twenty in my pocket. Says it’s her tip jar, and the only person in this world worth her tipping is me. It’s sad as fuck, but I know it’s the biggest compliment she’s given anyone in her life.

I tried to tell her I’d protect her any day of the week from scummy dudes for free because anyone with a swinging dick should be standing up for a broken woman, not fucking her up further. She doesn’t care, so her twenties go in a jar in my room at the club. Someday I’m gonna save enough of them that she can get a ticket to fly her away to somewhere happy in life.

Those three are the regulars; there’re a few more who only work weekends. Jennifer, for example, can cut hair like nobody’s business. She shaves mine all the time and never leaves me looking patchy. She gives a helluva shoulder rub after too, almost asked her to marry me once on accident during a good rub and pat.

Vanessa, another weekend chick, working her way through vet school. She’s a good girl; it drives the guys around here nuts. I get to reap the benefits when she’s fostering a new animal from the shelter she volunteers at in her off time and brings them in for me to babysit during her shift. She was shocked I offered the first time, but imagine my surprise when I discovered her roommate for the weekend was a mini pig. I nearly took Babe home with me, but I was afraid she’d end up named Bacon by the guys, and I couldn’t allow it to happen. Imagine the complex the pig would have, growing up with a name like Bacon or Ham Dinner. Those fuckers would do it in a heartbeat, I know it, and I’d have a traumatized piglet to raise.

So you see, they’re a group of gorgeous women who are sweet as pie, but it’s not any of them who have caught my attention. It’s the newest dancer. The first time I saw her come out on stage, it was like being hit by a g-damn truck. I had this warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest, tingles in my balls, and my dick practically growled himself, telling me her pussy is meant for us, and us only. Don’t get it twisted; I’m not only looking for a wet-pussy-deep-dive, not when it comes to her. No… one look, and I knew she was meant to be mine. Forever.

Raven.

I swear to G, I hear trumpets sound each time I say her name in my mind. She’s got me sprung to the point of no return. The real kicker? I can’t get up the nerve to talk to her. How’s that for fucked up? And by talk, I mean sign or let her read my lips. She’s deaf.

I’ve overheard the girls talking about it, not maliciously, so calm your bouncy tits. I’d never allow anyone to speak badly of Raven. From what I’ve managed to overhear, she hasn’t always been deaf. It’s a newer thing she’s had to learn to live with over the past five years. I have no idea what caused her hearing loss, but so help me, I want to do whatever I can to make life a little bit easier on her.

The fact she dances to music she can’t clearly hear the words to but relies on the vibrations and tones of the beats… puts her dancing on an entirely different level. She’s like a g-damn rainbow-stripper-unicorn, all sparkly and shit, and she’s the only woman in this place who doesn’t seem to be impressed with me.

Prez hands me a shot glass filled with something toxic, no doubt, and the girls scoot from under my arms as the brothers move closer. His loud voice carries across our group, “To Powerhouse, our brother always willing to take any hits coming for us. Our lumberjack-sized goofball, who listens to us all bitch on the daily and still manages to make us laugh it off. I hope you have the best motherfuckin’ birthday!” He taps his glass to mine, and then I continue tinking the side of mine to the others’ before tossing the liquid down the hatch.

“Erm,” I groan, pounding my chest as the burn hits the back of my throat, carrying down my esophagus to sizzle inside my gut. “That shit is fucking disgusting!”

He smirks, “They call it A Hairy Dick here. Goldschläger and Jägermeister.”

Everyone around us is coughing and gagging. Except Whiskey. He chuckles, “Maybe not your dick, but it’ll put some hair on your head,” he comments, and I huff.

I choose to shave my head; the hairless life didn’t choose me. I can grow hair on my head, I just prefer it gone since the Texas heat is typically a scorcher. Besides, I have a nice head shape, it’s not eggy at all, which I bet his would be.

I hit him back with, “Maybe you’ve finally found something to help with your erectile dysfunction, old man. Who knows, you may just figure out how to get it up tonight. Get to take it for a spin like old times.”

He glares, grumbling, “I get more pussy than any one of you assholes.”

He’s not lying. It’s those young chicks with daddy issues; they see him and think they’re gonna be the one to tie him down. Little do they know the only woman who’s ever had Whiskey in a vice since I’ve known him wasn’t some young pussy, but a bitch his own age, hell-bent on calling him on his shit. Her bullshit meter was broken, and unfortunately for my brother, it meant she dumped his ass. Since then, he’s been on a young snatch kick, but I know him well enough that it won’t be his forever choice of pussy.

“Another?” Prez asks, wearing a shit-eating grin, and I shake my head.

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