Page 50 of Fang
The question is, does she want to know about me more than she wants to keep her own secrets?
“I thought you would have wagered clothing. That would have been easier,” she mutters.
“It would have been, and we would have had fun, but this isn’t just about fun. You get that right?” I ask, suddenly unsure if I have made my intentions clear.
“It can’t last, though, can it? I mean, I’m a stripper and you’re a biker.” She looks down.
I pull her chin up to look at me. “It can. Your occupation at the moment is stripper. One day you will graduate with that fancy college degree and take on the world. The days of you taking your clothes off for strange men will be over. I’m hoping you’ll be able to overlook the biker thing and let me be the one beside you when you take on the world. What do you say?”
“I say that this is the first date and you are being a bit too serious. Let’s play your stupid game.”
She pulls away, turning to look at the target.
I watch as she picks up an axe, throwing it at the board. When it hits its mark, she turns and smiles.
“Okay, how about you tell me about Vegas?” She leans against the table, taking a drink of the water she ordered.
“Can’t I take off my shirt instead? Remember the abs? You love those,” I tease.
“Nope. You made the rules, not me.”
I sigh. “Vegas was home like I said. After growing up there with nothing, I joined the Lotus. I should have been there permanently, but after a while, I felt restless. I felt this need to run, but the only way to do that would be to go nomad, which is a lonely life. I didn’t want that life, so when Colt came down here, I followed. Then I stayed.”
“Why, though? What makes here different from Vegas?” she asks.
I shake my head. “One question. My turn.”I toss the axe, hitting it dead center. “Okay, little dancer. Why did you pick stripping?”
I turn and look at her. She looks ashamed as she stares at the ground.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”
She cuts me off. “Nope. It’s fine. I knew I wanted to get a degree, but I couldn’t live at home. I got a job at a local fast-food place, but they only offered fifteen hours a week, and the pay was so little, I wouldn’t have been able to afford lodging and tuition. I tried everything, but at the end of the day, stripping pays. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it, but then you agreed to my demands.”
“I’m glad I did,” I tell her.
She looks up at me. I know what my next question will be, but it’s her turn.
She misses this time, but I tell her, “Ask anyway.”
She looks at me. “That’s not the rules.”
“I made the rules up so I can break them. Ask me.”
“What makes here different?”
I sit on the stool facing her. I don’t want to be vulnerable, but I need to be. For her.
“I can’t say what makes it different other than it feels different. In Vegas, I felt like I was always running from something. My past, loneliness, the stigma of being a biker. It’s different there. Then I come here, and everyone is accepting. Bikers are the norm. No one here knows about my past. Then there is the fact that my loneliness seems to have faded the moment I met this feisty little dancer who has captivated me so thoroughly that I’m spending all my spare time at a damn strip club even when I don’t have to.”
“You run the strip club,” she says.
“I do, but it’s to the point that I don’t need to be there all the time. Other brothers can be brought in to handle the day-to-day shit while I get back to my MC duties, but I don’t want to.”
“Because of me.”
I nod my head. “Because of you.”
She takes a deep breath. “Ask your question.”
