Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jigsaw
“All right. Settle the fuck down,” Z rumbles, running his hands over the polished wood of the table. He pulls his coffee cup closer and takes a slow sip, like he’s mentally preparing himself for the bullshit about to go down. “Been a while since we sat down at our own table.”
“You gotta admit, Upstate’s clubhouse is much classier,” Hustler snort-chuckles. “No wonder we don’t wanna meet here.”
Z shakes with silent laughter and inclines his head in agreement. Prez is walking a fine line not to outright insult our clubhouse since he hasn’t been our president for that long.
Hustler has a point, though. When Z took over our charter, he kicked our asses into gear. We upgraded large portions of our compound. Still—it’s nothing like Upstate’s property.
Since most of the time my brothers treat our clubhouse like it’s an amateur porn studio, all the upgrades in the world can’t hide its seedy, cum-dumpster-esque charm.
Z doesn’t take the bait, just moves on. “First things first. Grip, Brew—welcome back to the table.”
Grip grins. “Good to be home, Prez!” He slaps his palms against the table like an overexcited toddler. Brew follows, drumming his hands on the edge.
Z barely gives them a glance. “Try to keep the excitement to a minimum.”
Grinder snorts. “That’s a big ask.”
Z covers club business: the laundromat break-in, our dirty cop’s latest updates, the usual. Then he finally circles to the porn empire.
And Stella.
He sweeps a hand toward Rooster, who’s sitting next to him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Rooster, why don’t you share with the club what had you squawking in my ear late last night?”
I bite my lip and tuck my chin to my chest to hide my laughter. Rooster’s glare snaps to Z, but Prez is completely unbothered.
Rooster elbows me as he sits forward, a printout of Stella’s email clenched in his fist, and sweeps his gaze up and down our long table. “Stella has a request for money.” He throws a cranky look Z’s way. “I know how much you’re going to love this, Prez.”
“Stop fucking around,” Z grumbles, already exasperated. “Share her brilliant deviance so we can get it over with, please.”
“She wants to…” Rooster closes his eyes and silently retches.
“Now, now. Don’t be so judgmental,” Butcher scolds, wagging his finger between Z and Rooster. “Aren’t you two always saying she’s the club’s most profitable asset?”
“No. She’s our biggest pain in the asset ,” Hustler corrects. He lifts his chin at Rooster. “Why’d she email you , anyway? I’m the money guy.”
“That’s what I said,” I mutter.
Rooster shrugs. “Probably because I handle all her website stuff. I’ll be more than happy to send her your way for this fuckery next time.” He throws a stink-eye at Z. “She assumes I’m her club point-of-contact now that you’re wifed up and won’t take her calls.”
Z’s dimpled grin holds zero apologies. “Sorry about that, brother.”
“No you’re not.” Rooster laughs.
“Uh, she looped me in as well.” I raise my hand. “And I would like to officially unsubscribe, please.”
“Aw.” Butcher makes a kissy face at me from across the table. “What’s wrong, your pretty little girlfriend get mad that a hot porn star emails you in the middle of the night?”
“Shut the fuck up about my ol’ lady.” I lean forward. “She doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Rooster snorts. “Amen. The fewer people who know, the better.”
Loud banging vibrates against the table. I turn toward the far end where Grip and Brew are drumming their palms against the edge, drowning out any conversation.
“What’s the porn proposal?” Grip shouts like an impatient three-year-old. “We wanna hear it noooow!”
“Settle the fuck down,” Grinder snaps.
“You two need a snack and a nap or somethin’?” Eazy asks.
“Come on. It sounds like it’s gonna be good,” Brew says. “We wanna hear it.”
Rooster shakes his head. “I assure you, it’s not good.” He focuses his stare on our two rowdy brothers until they’re quiet, then stands.
“Christ, you need to stand for this?” Z mutters.
Rooster spreads his hands wide. “Give me a break, Prez.” He glances at the pages spread out on the table. The last one’s covered with his blocky handwriting. “She wants to ‘expand’ on her current genre of meeting up with one or two randos in a hotel to film them fucking.”
Z sits forward, eyes narrowed. “Expand, meaning what ?”
“Well, Prez.” Rooster throws him a disgusted scowl. “Meaning expand . She wants to…” He scrubs a hand over his face like he needs to physically cleanse himself before saying it.
“We’re not gettin’ any younger, Rooster, spit it out,” Grinder says.
“Some of us more than others,” I mutter loud enough for Grinder to hear.
“Keep it up, you ain’t gonna get any older.”
I grin at him. Grinder’s so fun to provoke sometimes.
Rooster stares at the paper like he’s contemplating setting it on fire with the power of his eyeballs. “She wants to put out an open casting call—for one hundred guys.” He glances down at the papers again. “No, I’m sorry. One hundred and one .”
Silence.
Hustler blinks. “To do what?”
“To fuck her. On camera.” Rooster slides his hands through the air in a conveyor belt gesture. “All in one day.”
Grip and Brew explode into cheers, banging on the table again like drunk frat bros.
“Settle the fuck down!” Grinder snaps.
“Wait.” Hustler waves his hand at Rooster. “Is that even possible? Time-wise?”
I stare at him. “Aren’t you our numbers guy?”
“Gives every guy about fourteen minutes with her if she takes the full twenty-four hours and about seven if she wants to do it in twelve,” Eazy announces.
“Seven minutes in heaven.” Grip holds his hands up toward the ceiling.
Suds side-eyes Eazy. “You couldn’t break a ten at the laundromat the other day, but sex math you can do?”
“Everyone has their talents.” Eazy flashes a middle finger at Suds.
“Can I please share the whole proposal before we start discussing this?” Rooster asks with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Or whatever’s going on down there.”
Grinder stares at him in horror. “There’s more ?”
Z still hasn’t said a word but he’s leaning sideways in his chair, rubbing his temple, like he’d rather go down a bottle of Advil than listen to another word. “Continue, VP,” he says, absolute exhaustion weighing down his voice.
“She proposed posting an open casting call on all of her social medias, ‘seeking male talent, eighteen and up only, current STI results, location to be determined.’” Rooster rattles off the list of requirements in an irritated tone. Stella’s email had a precise list of demands.
A strangled noise of exasperation escapes Z. “Who’s supposed to sort through the applications?”
Rooster glares at him. “Me.” He jerks his thumb in my direction. “Jiggy.”
“I beg your finest of pardons, motherclucker.” My tone better be crystal clear that I’m not sorting through a bunch of gang bang applications. “No, the fuck I won’t.”
Chuckles from further down the table swiftly get covered with a loud fake cough.
“Can’t forget my favorite part.” Rooster taps one of the pages. “The applicants need to send in a headshot—because, and I quote—‘she doesn’t want any ugly guys.’”
“Yeeeah,” I say, stretching out the word to draw attention to the obvious. “We all know that pile will be full of dick pics.”
Butcher bursts out laughing. “The only guys signing up for that are gonna be ones who can’t get laid otherwise.” He points at Suds and Hustler. “Guess you two are off the gang bang list, you ugly fuckers.”
“Pfft.” Suds lets out a fuck-you snort. “Fine by me.”
“Where is she planning to film this fuckfest?” Grinder asks. “From what Z’s described, the kind of hotels she likes to film in are gonna notice a parade of peckerwoods rotating through their lobby, dicks in hand.”
Rooster’s lips stretch into a thin line. He’s really dreading this reveal. “She wants to film it here .”
“Absolutely the fuck not,” Grinder practically shouts. “Is this broad insane? We’re not taking the security risk of having a hundred civilians traipsing through our clubhouse.”
Rooster raises one finger. “A hundred and one .”
Grinder shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Grandpa has a good point,” Hustler says. “I don’t want a hundred perverts in and out of our clubhouse.”
“You mean a hundred and one, in addition to the ones that already live here?” I say, circling my finger around the table.
A slow smirk spreads over Hustler’s face. “Don’t act like you’re so innocent now that you’ve got a pretty young thing who lets you stick it in her on the regular.”
Grinder smacks the back of Hustler’s head. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth when you talk about his ol’ lady.”
Hustler throws out a hand in my direction. “He started it, callin’ us all perverts.”
“You are a pervert,” Z says. “Ol’ ladies are off-limits.” His gaze swings to me. “Sit the fuck down, Jiggy.”
Hadn’t even realized I’d gotten up and was leaning halfway over the table about to wrap my hands around Hustler’s neck. Ooopsie. Still glaring at him, I drop back into my chair.
He finally holds up his hands. “Sorry, you know I’m just fuckin’ with you, brother.”
I nod to accept the apology.
Rooster glances down at me, his eyes squinty with annoyance. “Can I continue?”
I hold out my hands. “No one’s stoppin’ you, brother.”
He blows out a breath. “I warned her filming it here wouldn’t be an option. The alternative she suggested is renting a house through Vay-Kay.com”
“She’s gonna need a big place for that,” Hustler says.
Z holds up his hands. “Wait a second. We’re not bankrolling this ‘project’ of hers. It’s disgusting.”
This must be the answer Rooster expected or was hoping for. He bobs his head up and down. “It doesn’t fit her ‘brand’ of female-gaze, artsy porn, either. I feel pretty confident very few women want to watch this.”
“Wait.” Suds snaps his fingers. “Her films are supposed to be for women ?” His face wrinkles with confusion. “Is that why they’re all shot in that weird hazy sunlight and there’s always so much pussy-licking in them?”
“Tell us you’ve never satisfied a woman without telling us,” I sing.
Laughter ripples around the room.
“Wait, why are we being so judgmental, Prez?” Eazy grins like an idiot. “Clubs run trains all the time. Not much different than that.”
“ This club doesn’t have a hundred strangers line up to drill anyone,” Z says through clenched teeth. “The porn business is sleazy enough. Let’s not make it worse.”
That wipes the smirk off Eazy’s face. “I’m just sayin’,” he mutters, sliding down in his seat.
“What’s wrong, bro? You want to sign up to be sloppy seventy-fifths?” I taunt.
“Only if you’re number seventy-four.” Eazy blows me a kiss.
“Fucker.” I laugh and sit back.
“The amount she’s requesting is in the mid six-figures.” Rooster passes a piece of paper to Z.
“Hah.” Z barks out an incredulous laugh. “In her fucking dreams.”
“Uh.” Grinder lifts one hand in the air. “I realize I’m old and maybe not ‘with it’ but should we be concerned?”
Z slides a cautious gaze toward our SAA. “About?”
“Seems to me like a sick cry for help, no?” Grinder turns, looking for one of us to agree.
Fuck it, I’m with Grinder on this one.
“Yeah,” I agree. “All jokes aside, can we all admit, this ain’t normal?” I hold my hands in the air. “Not trying to yuck anyone’s yum but come the fuck on.”
“Kinda feels like we’d be feeding a bulimic a sixteen-course meal,” Hustler says.
“Hundred-and-one course,” Grinder corrects.
No one laughs.
Butcher sits forward and clears his throat, all serious now. “Prez, you sure she isn’t doing this as a way to get your attention?”
The icy-cold blast of Z’s glare prickles against my skin as it travels down the table, landing on Butcher. “I don’t give a fuck one way or another.”
“She’s a club asset,” Hustler mutters.
Z slices a glance at Hustler. “By all means, feel free to give her a referral to a therapist if you’re concerned.”
Rooster jumps in before Hustler responds. “I think some of it is that she feels like she’s getting older, so she has to do more extreme content to keep her audience.”
Hustler flips through some papers in front of him. “Her site still brings in way more than any of the other girls’.”
Rooster taps his fingers against the table. “I set her up with someone Teller recommended to talk to about her finances. Someone outside the organization.”
“I thought she wanted to play director with the new talent she’s bringing in?” Z asks.
“She does.” Rooster turns and glances down the table at Butcher, then back to Z. “Don’t get bent, Prez. But it did feel like she was hoping this idea would get your attention. In the thirty minutes I talked to her, she brought your name up a lot .”
“Let’s take a vote,” Z says without acknowledging Rooster’s theory. “I don’t want anyone complaining we robbed the club of an opportunity.”
We all seem to be on the same page, so taking individual votes feels like overkill. Z’s been by-the-book since he took over.
“Yay or Nay, we fund Stella’s ‘hundred-and-one man’ project?” Z rolls his eyes, then shifts his gaze to Rooster to cast the first vote.
“Nay,” Rooster says without any additional commentary.
“Nay,” I add.
Every brother at the table adds their no vote, finally ending at Z.
“Nay.” He slaps his gavel against the block, signaling the Stella portion of club business is finished.
“I’ll let her know if you want, Rooster,” Hustler offers.
Z side-eyes our treasurer.
“We have a chain of command she should follow. She should be aware of that,” Hustler explains.
“I’d appreciate it.” Rooster glances at Z. “I’d rather keep my involvement focused on the IT stuff for her site. Not her funding…or anything else.”
“Tell her she can do whatever she wants,” Z says to Hustler. “We’re just not paying for it or getting involved in any other way.” He sends a look around the table. “That clear with everyone?”
Meaning, no one at this table better jump in that hundred-man line.
We run through a few other minor matters, then Z sets us free. Rooster’s slow to leave the table, so I stick around too.
“You thinkin’ of pulling us out of Stella’s business, Prez?” Rooster asks once it’s just the three of us.
Z frowns. “No, why? You heard Hustler. She still brings in a lot of money.”
“No reason.” Rooster slaps his palm on the table and stands. “Just want to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
I’m not quite ready to leave yet.
“With Sway fucking off in Florida, it sounds like maybe Stella’s a bit…adrift, maybe?” I scrunch my face into one of thoughtful confusion. “They were a thing for a while, right? Maybe she’s missing that older man mentoring Sway was so good at.” It’s a struggle to keep my face stuck in serious mode.
Z groans at the reminder that he dipped his quill in the same ink as our old prez.
My work here is done.
I follow Rooster into the main part of the clubhouse. The room’s crowded, full of rowdy voices discussing the dirtier details of one hundred guys and one girl and the clink of glasses or popping of cans at the bar.
“You couldn’t miss that opportunity, could you?” Rooster slaps my back a few times and laughs as we settle onto two barstools in the corner away from everyone else.
I widen my eyes to a shocked and offended size. “At least I didn’t explicitly say he’s basically crossed swords with Sway.” I make an X with my index fingers to demonstrate.
“Nah, you were subtle as a brick.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Jesus Christ. Z might’ve shot you on the spot if you actually said that.”
Lala stops by and Rooster asks her for two cups of coffee.
Once she’s gone, I lean in toward Rooster. “If he wants to pretend he doesn’t have history with Stella, that’s fine and dandy, but he shouldn’t expect the rest of us to forget.”
He sighs. “Go easy on him. I think distancing himself has more to do with not wanting to rub Lilly’s face in his past.”
I open my mouth to spit out something quippy, then stop. Isn’t that the same thing I was worried about with bringing Margot around the club? Fuck. A random bunny or two is a lot different than having a well-known porn star as your ex. “Lilly’s made of strong stuff. She doesn’t give a fuck about Stella.”
“Yeah, I know but,” he pulls a disgusted face, “if we start letting her reach out to him instead of running interference, that’s a shitty thing to do to Lilly.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Not that Shelby loves when Stella calls me.” He shrugs. “But I don’t have history with her.”
“Hot or not, I straight up just don’t like Stella. Shelby’s right, she’s condescending as fuck.”
“You don’t have to like her,” he says, using his patient tone. “Just help me deal with the web stuff.”
I’m not done listing my complaints. “Every time she asks me to ‘star’ in her ‘biker series,’” I cover my crotch with both hands, “my dick wants to crawl up inside my body and hide.”
“Same, brother.” He rolls his lip in disgust and sets his cup down. “Jesus Christ, could you imagine if we allowed Stella to film a fucking gang bang here…or had a wrap party for it at the clubhouse. How fucking awkward would that be?” He turns on his stool slightly, surveying the room. “She’d try to fuck everyone here just to make sure Z got an eyeful.”
“Probably.” I glance over my shoulder at Grip and Brew over by the pool table, actually using it for its intended purpose for once. “A good portion of our brothers would do it in a heartbeat too.”
Rooster stops and glances over his shoulder, then turns back to me. “Maybe it’s for the wrong reasons, but I’m glad Z backed me on this. If she wants to film her little fuckfest safely, she needs to vet all of those applications thoroughly, find a suitable location—where she won’t risk getting arrested—set up insurance, staff enough professional bodyguards…”
“Fuck, yeah. Otherwise she’ll end up with bouncers who are trying to take a turn instead of controlling the crowd.” I take that one further. “Or they won’t be paying attention to make sure no one hurts her or does more than they agreed to.”
“Right. How many times have we seen guys at Crystal Ball think a lap dance means the girls are down to fuck outside the club? Jesus Christ, she needs security guys when she’s doing one or two guys now.”
I snort-laugh into my coffee. “And who the fuck’s she going to hire to entertain all these guys while they’re waiting in line?”
“Exactly. All those logistical details will cost a fortune.”
I slap his chest with the back of my hand. “Look at you all lawyerly and shit.”
“It’s not lawyerly. It’s common sense.” He sighs. “I think it would alienate her current subscribers too.”
“Or she might get a lot of free advertising for her site if that story went viral.”
He shrugs. “She’d get an uptick in looky-loos checking it out for the shock value, but they won’t stick around. It would damage her brand more than help it.” He gestures toward the chapel and then to the rest of the clubhouse. “We’re a bunch of dirty bikers who’ve hosted some questionable parties, and even we thought it was disgusting.”
“Shit.” I shake my head. “Priest already hates our porn business. Could you imagine how hard National would come down on us if that made it into the news and Lost Kings were attached?”
“Right, because if she does it the wrong way —doesn’t vet all the guys thoroughly, or films it in the wrong place, it could be a huge liability. At best it ends up being an STI super-spreader event, at worst, multiple lawsuits and bad publicity for the entire organization.”
“Uh, worst case would be she adds a random serial killer to the guest list and get murdered,” I point out.
“Jesus Christ,” He groans. “You’re right. Out of a hundred people who sign up for something like that, odds are high one or more of them are psychos.”
“Well, it’s done now.”
“Exactly. We voted it down. Hustler’s going to give her the news.” He rubs his hands together briskly like he washing off the entire filthy discussion. “Done. I just hope the other girls don’t start coming up with ideas like this next.”
A hand clamps down on my shoulder and yanks me sideways. I glance behind me and find Z. He grabs Rooster and yoinks him closer too. “Are you still talking about this?” he asks.
I jerk my shoulder loose from his grip and spin my bar stool around to face him. “Just discussing all the many reasons it’s a good thing we voted it down, Prez.”
He glances at Rooster, then me, his jaw tightening while he drags his hand through his already messy black hair. “I’m sorry you have to deal with her. I thought you’d only be working on her website. Maybe connect with her when she sends you content to upload. Not get into stuff like this.”
Rooster leans his elbows back on the bar. “I don’t mind, Prez,” he says, his tone easy, but his pinched expression suggests something more. “Well, unless she asks me questions about you .” He holds up his hands, palms up like he’s preparing to ward off Z’s wrath. “I tell her I’m not gonna discuss your personal business with her but she always tries.”
Z’s face darkens, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck for?” he snaps, his voice rising enough to draw the attention of a few brothers. “Once she found out I had a kid, she was thrilled I dumped her.” Z squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to push a bad memory away. “She jumped back on Sway’s dick so fast, I thought she was over it.”
Rooster shrugs. “I’m just letting you know.”
Z’s eyes narrow. “She talk shit about Lilly?”
“Never,” Rooster says. “Kinda acts like she doesn’t exist, honestly.”
“For fuck’s sake. I don’t need this.”
“Sorry, Prez.” Rooster pats his shoulder. “Hustler and I will handle it.”
“Anyone hear from Sway recently?” I ask. “Maybe he can talk to her?”
Z scowls at me. “He’s the one who got us into this mess in the first place.”
“Yeah, I know,” I answer slowly. “Maybe that’s why he should deal with this.” I tap the patch on my chest. “He ‘retired.’ He didn’t get ex-communicated.”
“If I talk to him, I’ll mention it,” Z says. “You sticking around?”
I really should put in some facetime with my club. I’ve either been at Margot’s or at Upstate’s clubhouse lately. “Yeah, for a little while.”
“Good.” Z slaps my back. “I miss your witty commentary.”
“Don’t encourage him, Prez,” Rooster groans.
“It’s good to have you home,” Z says before taking off.
Too bad it doesn’t feel like home anymore.