Page 52 of Blood Revealed

Duke stands up to give the eulogy. Then other brothers and some of the women stand to talk about him. Even though I’m probably opening myself up to a whole lot of ire, I stand up too, and with Raif at my side, I walk up to face the group.

“When I was eighteen, I ended up here. I was scared and lost. Aside from Raif”—I reach my hand up to stroke his face—“there were two people who took me in and made me feel the most comfortable, the most at home. They’re both gone now. Dawna Ellis and our friend and brother Howie ‘Carver’ Stolz.” The crowd sort of laughs. “Bet most of you didn’t know his name was Howie, did you? He didn’t want most people to know, but he told me because we just clicked. Throughout the past seven years, he told me a lot of things. I thought of him like the older brother I never had. Now it’s hard to imagine a future without him in it. But, Carver,” I say to the air, “if you’re here with us today, know that I’m only ever calling you ‘Howie’ from now on.”

The crowd laughs. I’ve given them the tension-breaker we’ve all needed. Raif and I sit back down. Once the service ends, we walk back to the clubhouse, where several of the pieces who knew Carver andknewCarver set up a potluck for us.

It’s a nice gesture and just goes to show what the man meant—meansto all of us. The room begins to grow rowdy as the alcohol begins to flow, the rock music gets played way too loud, and every other word out of a biker’s mouth isfuck.

We eat and celebrate a life well lived and well-loved, even if taken from us too soon. The pieces even do the clean up so we don’t have to. Though the party goes well into the night.

The next morning, I get up early to pack for Raif and get him some food to take with him. Today the men leave to give Carver his last ride as they release his ashes along the way. It’s a tradition the Lords have done since the beginning.

Several of the men aren’t healed enough to make the ride but are choosing to go against Caitlin’s orders. Chaos says, “Just trading out one set of wheels for another. If I’m well enough for that damn chair, then I’m well enough for my bike. I’m still sitting.”

Crass agrees. My sister doesn’t even try to persuade her husband to stay behind. His shoulder hit wasn’t as bad as Chaos’s and Crass’s injuries, but all the injured brothers are still healing. Sneak, Boetcher, Boss—there’s no convincing them to postpone the ride. We women simply have to deal with it and go on with our day to day lives.

Raif kisses me sweetly. “Love you, baby,” he says. “You need to think about where you want to live while I’m gone, okay? We can stay here on the compound or get a place in town. It’s up to you, but now that we’re married, we have to get our own place, yeah?”

“Yeah, babe. We’ll figure that out once you get home. Promise me you’ll keep your eyes and thoughts on the road, okay?”

“I always listen to my wife.” He snickers and I swat at his behind.Always listens, my ass.

Once we see the men off, it becomes business as usual. The women go back to work, with guards, which means I have to prepare to head back to the club tonight. Duke got word through a contact that Escalante was called back to Mexico a few days ago. That means the chances of him making another move right now are almost nonexistent, also known as the reason they picked today to send Carver off on his last ride. Even though my bosses are flexible because I work for the Lords, I still have to earn a paycheck. I’ve never lived off a man and don’t plan on starting now.

It’s a day of washing clothes to make sure my thongs and pasties dry in enough time. They’re hand-wash only and air dry. Then, because it’s been a while, I head down to my stylist, Trudy. She’s always able to fit me in, miraculously. But I could use a trim and a freshening up of my highlights.

Finally, it’s off to the club. I’m welcomed back by the other girls with warm hugs. Elise is there. She’s technically my boss as the club’s general manager.

“Didn’t expect to see you back,” she says when I walk into the office to clock in.

“Why not? A girl needs them dolla-dolla bills.”

“Yeah, but now that you and Blood are married—”

“I still need a paycheck. He makes good money, but I’ve been taking care of myself all my life. I can’t just live off him.”

“Girl, I get it—trust. That’s why I’m here. You remember I was in college when my stuff went down. I’d worked hard for that degree and planned to use it.”

“Well, I’m going to warm up. How late are you here?”

“Only until five. With Beau gone, I need to get Gun from daycare.” I find it weird to hear her call Boss, Beau. As old ladies are the only ones allowed to call their respective Lords by their given names, I’m sure it’s weird for her to hear me call Blood, Raif. After seven years of calling him Blood, it’s still weird for me.

“Give Gun kisses for me,” I say as I head for the door.

Then I spend the next several hours dusting off my pole skills. It’s been a few since I’ve been to work, what with Elise’s kidnapping and then mine, and then going off to get married. It’s time to work out a new routine.

Before the end, I sport a nice sheen of sweat and have quite the crowd. The other dancers and some of the bar and waitstaff, even the security, watch me strut my stuff across the stage. It feels good to stretch my muscles again. To push myself as far as I can push.

Finally, the time comes to get ready. As I’m their main dancer, the other warmup acts go on first for each set. I do four sets a night. This new routine will end the evening for us. Since I’m sure it’ll be a showstopper, I figure it’s a great way to stop the show.

Tonight, I have on my pink sequin thong and bikini top to start the night. They don’t get all the boobs until the final notes of the song. It keeps the allure. Other girls don’t get it, but it’s creating this character that the men desire but come just short of having. It’s a fine balance. And my tips allow me a comfortable life, especially not paying rent. But even if I paid two grand a month for rent, I’d still have a comfortable life.

The dancer before me runs off the stage to grab her robe hanging over a chair to cover up with. The prerecorded MC announces that the time has come for “the captivating Crystalline.” That’s my stage name. I run onto the platform made up of dark stained, waxed, wooden flooring and stop abruptly to slide, spinning so my ass faces the crowd. I give it a shimmy. The men begin to whistle and hoot. The music moves me. It’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, a classic that gets them so pumped up, bills begin littering the stage before I ever take to the pole. That’s where the magic happens. My dance moves are something to behold, but my pole dancing kills.

I swing and tumble, hanging upside down, then grabbing the pole. My back arches out and I swing my legs down, straddling the shiny, metallic rod, circling it as I slide the rest of the way down. Pushing up with my heels, it looks like I’m about to crabwalk, but I bring my legs up over my head until I’m flat on my belly and undulate like a snake or a wave. I throw myself up into a sitting position, swinging my legs around, showing off the goods covered in thong, thrusting my hips forward. The men go crazy.

It’s always like this. Three-quarters into the song, I reach behind me to unclasp my sparkly bra, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Two hot pink, sequined flower-shaped pasties cover my nipples. The bills go from fives and tens to twenties and fifties. The men know the score. They’re saving the really big bills for my final set. That’s the one where I throw out all the stops.

After a couple more spins on the pole, I slide to the center of the stage, stand with my feet shoulder-width apart, fold my arms over my chest, then peel off the pasties for a glimpse of full boobs, shaking them for the crowd before the last note hits and the lights go down.

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