Page 32 of Ghost's Obsession

Ghost is across the room, talking low with Tusk and a few other men whose names I barely know. Their heads are bowed. Their expressions are serious. They remind me of generals, mapping out battlefield strategy.

I should feel safer, and I do, in a way. But I also feel exposed in a way I don’t know how to hide. Trying to act casual, I trace the rim of my glass with one fingertip, watching them without being conspicuous. Trying to blend in amongst the club girls isan impossible task. They are like bright, sparkling jewels and I’m just a plain Jane. Maybe if I stay quiet everything will be okay.

I believe that’s going to work, right up until I see a flash of bright lipstick and a matching sequin tube top, and skin-tight denim cutoff shorts moving in the corner of my vision.

I stiffen in my seat, hoping whoever it is just passes by me without stopping to talk. But my luck isn’t in.

It’s Chastity, the very same club girl Ghost chased off at our working lunch a few weeks ago. The one who made it very clear that she didn’t think much of me. The cocky, superior expression on her face now tells me that nothing’s changed.

She leans one elbow on the bar, smiling wide and sweet like she’s about to offer me friendship.

The thing is, she’s not clever and I know better than to take her at face value.

“Hey, Heather,” she says, voice syrupy. “You settling in okay?”

I grip my glass tighter and force a polite smile onto my face. “Fine. Thanks.”

Her eyes flick to where Ghost is still deep in conversation, oblivious to the sly shenanigans.

“Good,” she says lightly. “It’s important not to get too comfortable. You know the brothers all have their routines, their needs, and their favorite club girls. Even Ghost. He’s no different from the rest. Until you came along, he spent a lot of time in my bed.”

She tosses her hair over one shoulder, smiling, enjoying her little games. She flutters her nails in front of my face, as if showing off her new manicure.

“Yeah, I guess he traded up. I know you’ll just fly into another brother’s arms. So, no harm, no foul, right?” I say, deciding to fight fire with fire.

“You’re not wearing his cut, so he’s not yours. Outsiders don’t last long around here. It’s an unfortunate fact that there aren’t enough club girls to go around, so sometimes they resort to outsiders to get their needs met. We know what they like best. Always have. Always will.”

Her smile widens, making her face look like a sick caricature of lipstick and blush.

I shouldn’t be entertaining this club girl with attention, much less conversation. Before I can even process the point she’s trying to make, she keeps going.

“You’re new,” Chastity says, her voice almost purring now. “Outsiders, especially the new women, always think they’re special and it’s different with them.”

I stay quiet, fingers tightening on my glass, mostly because I’m too tired to fight with the girl over nothing.

She leans in, her cheap perfume burning my nostrils and her bad breath filling the air between us.

“The truth is, brothers always come back where they’re most comfortable,” she continues, voice sweet and insulting both at the same time. “And that’s not with outsiders like you. It’s with girls who know how things work. Girls who know what they like. What they need.”

Sick swirls in my stomach and I wonder if I’ve missed my last dose of meds for the day or if it’s just every single thing about this woman that is nauseating. I don’t believe a word she has to say, particularly about Ghost. I can’t imagine him ever having anything to do with Chastity. Maybe the other girls, but surely not this one. She seems like a viper.

Still, it’s hard to sit here alone while Ghost is across the room, surrounded by people who belong in this world. While I’m still just trying to figure out club culture all on my own.

“You know Tusk?” Chastity adds, tipping her head towards the group across the room. “He’s one of Ghost’s best friends, a brother for life?”

I nod stiffly. “Of course I do.”

Chastity’s smile widens and becomes crueler.

“He married his favorite club girl. Her name is Brittany. She was one of us before he put a property cut on her back. He turned her into his old lady.”

She says it like it’s proof. Like it’s inevitable. Like I’ll never be enough.

“So don’t get too attached,” she finishes, light and vicious all at once. “They always come back to the ones who already know the rules.”

I open my mouth to tell her off. But truth be told, I don’t even know what I’m planning to say. I have no idea what would even be considered a cunning reply to her rambling insistence that all the club brothers belong with club girls.

That’s when a cooler voice cuts across the space between us.

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