“Jade.”
“Timberly,” I reply sighing.
“Jade really like what have you been doing?”
“Drinking. Timberly. Night drinking, day drinking, fuck all the times of the day drinking,” I murmur as a hangover kicks my ass and my body begs for sleep.
“Um, why?” she questions, and I can envision her hand on her hip and her perfect eyebrows arched at me.
“Why the hell not, Tim?” I reply back as she pulls the throw from my body taking away the abyss of soft fake okayness. “Timberly, like what the fuck?” I snap pulling my body into the fetal position to generate some of that fake warmth back.
“Get up and shower. You’re coming with me.”
“No”
“Yes.”
“Um, No”
“Oh, Yes.”
“NO-NO-NO-NO. Oh and how about NO!” I bite out.
“Fuck sake, Jade, just get up and shower. We are having a club cookout and you’re coming.”
“I so am not.” Just the thought of seeing 81 has me all in butterflies and fire. I can’t stomach that today, not hung-the-fuck-over and barely alive. I must be ready, waiting for when it’s time and having a cookout with some outlaws ain’t the time I am waiting to have.
“Yes, you fucking are. Now shower or I will get the biker you don’t wanna admit you wanna play the kissing game with here and he will bring you over his shoulder. That equals all kinds of bad and not in the bad way you’re thinking either. I mean in the panty-wetting insane sexy kinda way only a Reaper can give.” Her eyebrows wiggle up at me this time and I throw my pillow at her. She catches it and slings it back at me. It slaps my arm hard causing me to yelp at the sting.
“Fuck my life.” I throw at her as I drag myself to the shower. No point even trying to get out of this one. She won’t allow it, bossy bitch.
We pull into the compound in Timberly’s beat-up old flat deck Ford truck. It’s baby blue and battered but she adores it. She has a feather hanging from black leather strands on her rearview mirror and ripped faded leather seats. There is no aircon and windows that ya wind up and down. It’s so her.
Butterflies attack my nauseous stomach; it’s not coping at all. My head is thumping still, and my palms are sweaty. I keep going to wipe them on my pants, but no, I have denim shorts on. Timberly brought over clothes for today. She said I need to live a little and express myself and this clothing choice was a great start. Well, maybe for trying to get a job at hooters. Wow, the soul-shattering bass of an overly loud and extreme Five Finger Death Punch hits us right in the face as we exit from Timberly’s truck. Like this isn’t doing my hangover any good at all, not one iota. It gets louder as we approach the main doors of this huge club. People mill around and half-naked women are already spilling from inside. Outside, bodies are all over the men with titties in their face. My body quivers. Imagine how many germs are transferred from person to person, pool table to stripper, pool to bar and then onto bar stools. Wow, man, just, wow.
Timberly passes me the standard red cup. I reluctantly take a sip and the bitter taste of cheap ass beer hits my tongue causing me to dry retch. Fuck, man, it ain’t whiskey and that’s all I drink. It’s not even assisting as hair of the dog. It’s absolutely disgusting.
This place is so far from my comfort zone. I am way better at being a loner and drinking in the dark than I am out and about in a society that seems to be based on drinking and having sex. Like do these people even have day jobs. Actually, what is their job? How do they fund such a massive place that parties like a Vegas party bus twenty-four/seven?
I have so many questions. So many things I want to find out, but tonight isn’t the night. Tonight, I wish I was in bed sleeping this horrid hangover away.
Timberly is talking to a group of other women and I see this as the perfect time to leave. I can slip out and be home in Thirty minutes an order of Chinese on the way, a whiskey and lime in hand.
I push off the bar and slip toward the kitchen, ready to toss my empty cup and make my way back to my place, when I bang into someone.
“Sorry,” I say not looking up to meet whoever's eyes were burning into me, because truthfully, I don’t exist to these people.
“No problem. Your drink looks empty?” he questions, and my shocked eyes drew up to his face. Dark hair, scruff on his jaw, calm but yet penetrating green eyes that will make the ladies go crazy. Swallowing, I nod before clearing my throat.
“Yeah, yes. I was just about to—”
“Get another?” he interrupted my answer.
I smile. “Um no. I was leaving.”He takes hold of my elbow and leads me toward the kitchen where three other guys are standing, drinking and talking. They smile at me as I'm pulled into the room by his grip on my body. I had seen these men around here the last time I was here. They aren't as high up the food chain as 81 I seemed to remember, and I wonder what he wants with me. I go to walk from the room as it feels like the walls are closing in on me and the air is getting thicker.
“So, little love, what brings you to the club?” The strange man with calming eyes asks me as he passes me another red cup.
“I don’t want that,” I say to him as he slips beside me and another guy steps in front of me.
