Page 2 of Crow
As though thinking about it had summoned my ghosts, from the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of long dark hair and green earrings. It was a sight that used to be so familiar it made my chest ache. I found myself turning to look closer, Jeannie’s name on the tip of my tongue. I regretted it as soon as I did. I knew it wasn’t Jeannie; it couldn’t be. Now that I was looking properly, I could see that it was just another stripper standing behind the bar. Her nose was proud instead of upturned at the end, her eyes were green instead of brown, and her hair was too dark. Even the earrings were wrong, just gaudy chunks of green plastic hanging from the stripper’s ears. She was pretty, very pretty, as she shook a martini in obscenely short shorts and a white bikini top, but I was no longer interested. I watched her laugh with the girl next to her, who was wearing only glitter and a blue thong, idly wondering how awkward it was to work next to someone who was naked. Was it something you got used to? Did she have a hard time not staring at the other women’s breasts, or was that just a guy thing?
Her eyes suddenly moved from the half-nude woman, straight onto mine. I inhaled sharply, caught off guard by how vibrant they were, and looked down at the table. I had noticed they were green, but until she was staring at me, I didn’t realize justhowgreen. They were intense, especially against her pale skin and dark hair, and I found myself thinking that they were greener than any other eyes I’d ever seen.
“Crow,” Ripper said beside me, voice filled with slowly dawning glee. “Were you just checking out a stripper?”
“What?” I said, snapping my neck away from the table to glare at him. “No. Fuck off, I wasn’t.”
“Oh shit! Crow!” Archer laughed beside me, shaking me by the shoulder, and I smacked his hand away. Not even trying to be subtle, he looked behind the bar, tapping his finger against his chin. “She’s got nice tits, but ahh… her face is a little…”
“Not her,” I said, then covered my face with my hand as I realized I had just admitted to looking. “Dammit.”
“What?” Wrench said from beside Tank. “Crow’s looking at a woman? What’s next, a flying pig?”
“I looked at her for half a second, knock it off,” I grumbled.
“Yeah, but Crow,” Archer said, trying to be serious as he stared me in the eye. “That’s like, half a second more than I’ve seen you look at a girl ever.”
“That’s ’cause I’m not fucking interested!” I said, but it was too late. Suddenly, everyone was surrounding me. Even Maverick and Vegas had torn themselves away from the stage to crowd in close like I was some sort of spectacle. Immature kids, waiting for gossip like they were still in high school. Even though I was only a few years older than most of the club, it seemed like a lifetime. Looking at Tank for some moral support, my face fell further when I saw he was also grinning like an idiot.
“I think we gotta get him a lap dance,” Vegas said from where he was leaning on the table beside me, and my eyes widened, my lips curling into a sneer.
“Are you fucking with me? No. I’d rather die. I’d rather cut the goddamn brakes on my bike and drive full speed into a wall. I do not want some strange bitch getting all up in my business and covering me in fucking glitter like some kid’s craft project.”
“The one in the white, right? Fuck, I wasn’t expecting you to have good taste, but she’s a total smokeshow,” Ripper said beside me, completely ignoring what I had just said, and I scoffed.
“You think anything with tits and a heartbeat is a smokeshow,” I said. “And sometimes the heartbeat is optional.” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop myself stealing another quick glance at her before taking another swig of beer and insisting, “She’s not that great.”
“Fuck it, you know what?” Ripper said. “Let’s get him a private room. On us.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I said, shaking my head, but all my protests were drowned out by the excited chatter. Ripper beckoned over one of the girls and pointed at the stripper I had been looking at, everyone else tossing notes and coins onto the table, amassing a small pile until they had enough to cover a private room. The girl scooped the money up and promised us that the stripper would be ready in the room in five minutes before walking over to the bar. Every eye turned to me.
“No,” I repeated, resolute. Their grins widened.
***
Five minutes later, I stood in the private room, scowling. Turns out no matter how stubborn you are, you cannot withstand a mob of drunken bikers. I eyed the peeling red leather couch with distrust. This room was somehow even stickier than the main bar, it stank of old sweat, and there was glitter everywhere.
Behind me, the door swung open. I turned just in time to see the girl from the bar stride in. Up close, I could see she was even more beautiful than I had first thought, so small and dainty she reminded me of a porcelain doll.
“So, what can I do for you, handsome?” she purred, walking up to me and running her hands across my chest. I caught her wrists in my hands, carefully peeling her off me and taking a step away.
“Nothing darlin’. No offense, but I don’t want this.”
An offended look quickly crossed her face. Then her expression settled into something cool and indifferent, and she shrugged, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder.
“Fine, no skin off my back. I get paid either way.” She settled on the couch, pulling a battered looking phone out of fuck knows where and tapping away. I looked around the small room, unsure of what to do with myself. I considered just leaving, but the thought of the rest of the Rebels jeering as they pushed me in here for a second time was too big an injury to my pride. I settled for leaning against the wall across from where the stripper was still fiddling on her phone.
“How long do I have to stay in here?” I asked finally.
“Not a moment longer than you want to,” she said, without looking up. “But your buddies out there paid for another ten minutes.”
“Ah.” I drummed my fingers against my thigh. She kept tapping away at her phone, and for a while, its quiet beeping was the only sound. I felt out of place, too big in this little room, alone with this little woman. It was the longest I’d spent alone with a woman for a long time, save for Tank’s wife Evelyn, or maybe Rose. I tried to ignore her, but the quiet was getting to me. It was letting my thoughts get too loud, bringing up memories I’d rather forget. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“So,” I burst out. The stripper finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. I floundered for a moment, searching the room for inspiration on what to say. All I could see were some grubby mirrors and a pole, smaller than the ones decorating the main stage. “Did you always want to be a… uh…” I trailed off lamely, eyes trailing down to all her exposed pale skin, skimming over the swell of her breasts, past the peaks of her nipples poking through her bikini top, down past the dip of her navel to where her tiny shorts clung to her hips.
“A stripper?” She smirked. The word fell from her lips with an ease that only made my fumbling seem worse. I nodded, forcing my eyes back to her face, and she scoffed. “Yeah,” she said, putting her phone down and turning the full force of her startling green eyes on me. “Yeah, when I was growing up, I didn’t dream of being a princess or a designer or a vet like the other girls. I always wanted to spend my life twirling naked round a pole and shaking my ass at strangers for shit tips.” She looked me up and down, smirk widening. “What about you? Did you always want to be a meathead with wheels?”
“How the fuck did you know...?”
