Page 61 of Lady Sings the Blues

Right. Duke. Just who I really don’t want to see now. Maybe turn me back over to the Horde?

That wish notwithstanding, I do as he says and get out of bed, then throw on a bra under my T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants before heading out to the common area. Duke keeps his office in a room to the right of the bar.

“To think he’s throwing away the club for you.” A woman, she’s a hot mama—one of the available women who live here semi-permanently in exchange for caring for the men—steps in my face.

“Throwing the club away?” She’s got my attention, which proved by the ugly smirk on her face, she knew she would.

“Boss’s the VP. How do you think your actions look on him? How long you think Duke’s gonna put up with your shit? He fucked me on the regular. Right up ‘til you came back to town. I never gave him these problems.”

“He’s the VP?” I ask, choosing to disregard the disturbing information in which Beaufuckedher“on the regular.”

“So selfish you don’t even know what position yourmanholds. It’s on his patch. Hasn’t been home, has he? Don’t be surprised he smells like pussy when he does get back. A lot of girls willing to take your trash.”

“He’s not my trash. I love him.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

As much as I don’t want to stay talking to her, I let out a longish, exaggerated sigh because what I want even less than spending one more second with the sparkling conversationalist happens when we hear Duke call, “Manning. Get the fuck in here.”

Right.

I breathe out heavy once more, sucking up my courage and walk with my head hanging, looking at my feet, and enter his office. Not sure what I thought the office of the president of an MC would look like, but this really looks like an office. Computer monitor, keyboard, phone. Lose papers, files, cabinets for those files. He leans against the desk when I enter.

Duke’s naturally intimidating in that badass president of an MC way, what with his dark, so black it’s almost blue hair just starting to streak with silver at his temples. He wears it messy and longish, long enough to curl around his ears. And like all the movies portray, as an MC President he sports a kickass mustache and goatee, thick, black with more silver in his beard than his hair. He’s big and buff, full of tattoos, and never wears sleeves.

The thick chain which goes from his belt loop to his wallet rests on the desk. His motorcycle boots he’s planted as firmly to the floor as his palms against the desktop. Like I said, naturally intimidating. But now, on top of all that, his gray eyes glare beadily at me with his mouth set in the meanest scowl I’ve ever seen up close. His scowl could make a grown man wet himself, yet while taking all of him in, I see a dull gold wedding band still glinting slightly from his left ring finger. It’s humanizing in a way which makes him just a bit less scary.

“Take a seat.” He growls. Yes, growls.

Despite that greeting and the fact that he doesn’t look happy, he strangely doesn’t seem as pissed right the hell off as yesterday. To keep him from going back there, I take a seat right away, sitting with my head down again, hands folded in my lap. Even without his earlier pissed vibe, I sit feeling on the verge of tears.

“Got anything to say for yourself?”

I shake my head no.

“Elise Fuckin’ Manning has nothin’ to say?”

Again, I shake my head no.

“Well this is a first. As for yesterday, Rage, the Horde president, denies any knowledge or involvement with those men detaining you. Said they went rouge, but that’s bullshit. A president controls his club. With that knowledge, what do you thinks gonna happen here?”

“I need to collect my things and probably move to California or somewhere far away where I can’t hurt Beau anymore?”

“The Brimstone just declared war on the Bedlam. Not just Kentucky. When we had to send our Nashville boys in to rescue you, shit got serious. So you think we’re really just gonna let you go?”

My head whips up, eyes flash to his. “Wha—what are you gonna do with me?”

“That’s up to Boss. You’re his old lady.”

“I don’t think I am, not anymore. Just not sure where I’ll go.”

“Have you eaten at all today?”

“Not really hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to argue or be a nuisance, either. “I’m very sorry.” I shoot him a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, I do love Beau. I’m just not a very good old lady. I’m sure he’s out finding my replacement as we speak.”

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