I turn to smile at Rook. “Hey yourself.”
“What ya doing?” he asks, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“Grabbing some lunch, but I’m not sure what to get.”
“The pie is good,” he says.
“That’s dessert, not lunch.”
He shrugs. “You can eat pie for lunch some days.”
“I think I’ll get a sandwich and try to be a bit healthier.”
A lot of the bikers are piling their plates with potatoes, mac and cheese, and big hunks of meat. That kind of food is way too heavy for me, especially at this time of day.
There aren’t many women in the place, except for the ones serving, and it makes me realize that this place is just as archaic when it comes to the roles of women as it is in the mafia.
Perhaps the only way for me to be free is to run andfind a new life for myself, away from all these old school men with their sexist ways.
“Where are all the women?” I ask Rook.
He blinks in surprise. “Er, well, I mean, a lot of them are at work.”
“Work? They’re allowed off the compound?”
A soft laugh escapes him. “It’s not a prison, Camile.”
Huh, maybe not for them, but for me, it is.
“What work do they do?”
“All kinds. Some of them work here, like the ol’ ladies who serve up food. But a lot have jobs outside that they wanted to keep. One of them works as a teacher, there are a couple of nurses, one lady works in a flower shop, and she loves it, so God help her man if he tried to stop her.”
“Do any of the men work outside?”
He nods. “Yep, a few.”
“But… a lot of you work in the club. Doing what?”
His soft laugh is accompanied by a head shake. “Can’t go there, Camile, and anyway, I don’t know much. I’m not fully patched in.”
“Why not?”
“Lady, what do you want?”
My question is shut down by one of the women who is serving. She puts her hands on her hips, her head to one side, as she stares at me through hostile, kohl rimmed eyes.
“Um, just a turkey sub, please.” She grabs the sandwich, wrapped loosely in plastic wrap, and passes it to me.
When I’ve chosen a drink, too, and paid, I make my way outside, hyperaware of all the sets of male eyes on me.
Rook jogs to catch up with me. “Want some company for lunch?”
“Yes, sure, that would be nice. I’m heading back to my place, if you want to come?”
The idea of going back to the silent house had filled me with dread. Sure, I could have put the TV on, but it’s not the same as having some company.
More men turn to stare at me as I walk by.
