I’ll admit, I like the way the word ‘please’ sounds from her lips. Shit, I know I’m being an asshole, but honestly any chance to bring her down a peg or two is worth it.
“It’s easy, princess, he’s in there now with Tipo. They’re not talking about anything serious so you can just go on in and ask them, the door will be open.”
Her shoulders drop in relief as she exhales.
“Great, thanks. You’re sure they won’t mind me disturbing them?”
“Not at all.”
The door to the clubhouse opens and Donovan returns, a beer for himself and a bottle of water for Elizabeth. I guess she won’t be staying to drink with us tonight, she usually leaves early when she only has water. Probably has more exciting plans with her rich little friends—she definitely thinks she’s too good for us.
Elizabeth
“Not at all.”
The door to the clubhouse opens and Donovan returns, a beer for himself and a bottle of water for me, knowing I have to leave for work in a couple of hours. I suppose I should go and ask El Jefe now.
I lean into Donovan and whisper, “I’m just going to use the restroom.”
Diablo gives me a nod of encouragement.
Here goes nothing…
The clubhouse is a separate building from the main garage; it should look out of place, a log cabin amongst all the concrete and metal of the industrial estate lot, but it doesn’t. Whether it’s the dust that covers the floor after being dragged in from the lot, or the club memorabilia that hangs in both the clubhouse and the garage, it fits. The clubhouse is empty, the tables and chairs waiting for patrons, and no one is behind the bar, all the available girls must have come out with the beers.
It’s a shame Ana isn’t here today, I’d hoped to ask her to help me with the party. She’s always nice to me and wesometimes hang out when I’m here; and if I’m with her, the other girls speak to me too, otherwise I’m basically invisible to them.
To the left are some stairs leading up to the bedrooms, some of the guys live here permanently, Diablo included. Whereas the guys who have wives or girlfriends live away from the clubhouse. I still don’t get how the whole relationship thing works with these guys, and the girls hanging around all the time.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for casual sex; it’s what I do, there’s no way I’d have the time for a boyfriend on top of studying and my job. But when it comes to relationships, I’d be a monogamy girl for sure. But each to their own, if their wives and girlfriends are aware of it all and happy, then who am I to judge.
Ahead of me is the door to the private room where the club members talk business. I’ve never been in there before, and none of the girls have ever mentioned going in either. Diablo was right, the door is slightly ajar, and muffled voices come from inside.
“She just had the divorce papers out there on the table, waiting for me.”
“Shit. How did you leave it?”
Even though Diablo told me it would be okay to walk in, they’re clearly having a private conversation, so I knock.
“What?” The voice isn’t muffled anymore, it’s El Jefe.
I slide open the door and walk in; the room is large, but the space is filled with one giant table. The club emblem of a wolf framed in a tribal pattern is carved into the center, with words below it: El que con lobos anda, a aullar se enseña. My Spanish isn’t great, but I think it translates roughly as, ‘He who runs with wolves, will learn tohowl’.
I guess that explains why their club is called Lobos Aulladores—Howling Wolves.
Enough seats for each of the members surround the table and I’m slowly taking it in until my gaze reaches El Jefe, and the furious expression on his face.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Tipo, the club Vice President, asks, “This is for club members only.”
Shit. Diablo has played me.
“That fucking asshole!” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
I leave the room but stop outside the door when El Jefe calls out.
“Wait.” His voice is firm, but not as angry as Tipo. “Come in, sit down.”
Great, and now I’m in trouble. Fucking Diablo. I pull out the chair furthest from them both and sit, keeping my eyes low.
