Chapter Six
BELLE
“Fuck! Shit!” I curse, stubbing my toe on the corner of a chair in Blake’s room. I told him to get rid of that ridiculous-looking armchair, but he says it’s a place to throw his clothes on.
I must admit, other than holding his clothes, the chair should be thrown in the bin. It’s ripped in the center, exposing foam coming out from the cushion. The arms on it, which used to be a light tan color, are now black. Most likely from all the grease on his clothes.
Knowing I don’t have much time, I quickly search the bedroom, trying to locate my panties that Blake threw somewhere in this room.
Where the fuck did he put them?
“Babe, is that you?” Blake calls out with a croaky voice. I have no idea how he’s conscious at all, considering how much he partied with the rest of the boys last night.
“Shush,” I whisper in a panic, moving closer to the bed where Blake is sleeping naked on top of his sheets. He’s one of the younger club members.
My eyes travel down the length of his body. He’s not too bad-looking, although he could use some exercise to get rid of that beer gut, but other than that, he is masculine, with a black beard and eyes. He’s tall, muscular, and has a cock on him that knows how to please a woman.
Blake is in the Royal Bastards MC and has been here for three years. If my father got wind that I was fucking with one of his men, Blake would be a dead man.
He’s told me I can date and fuck who I want as long as it’s not one of the members. But it’s not that easy to obey. I’ve lived here since I was a kid, and all I know are these men. I don’t go out much, so where else am I supposed to meet men? At school? I don’t think so.
Being a student didn’t work out for me. I was always in fights with the girls, even boys, who tried to get away by pinching my butt. I was always in the principal’s office being yelled at or given warnings. Until one day, I accidentally lit the science room on fire. I didn’t know that mixing sodium with metal and adding water could cause a fire.
In my opinion, it was an accident. Mrs. Helmes never explained that you can’t mix those together.
But they wouldn’t listen to me and all agreed I had done it on purpose. So, they called my dad into the school and explained that they were going to expel me, meaning I had to go to another school. That would be three different schools in the last four years.
My dad was pissed and yelled at Principal Portland, causing him to retract his expulsion. He said he was willing to give me one last try, but my father just got up from his chair and yelled, throwing everything from the principal’s desk to the floor. Explaining that there was no way in hell his bright daughter was going to go to this school. Principal Portland threatened to call the police, but my dad just laughed at him, knowing that the police wouldn’t even come if they found out it was the RBMC.
I walked out of school thinking how lucky I was to have a father who stuck up for me, but that was short-lived when he told me that my new job was going to be working at the clubhouse behind the bar. Any father wouldn’t want their daughter living in a clubhouse, let alone working behind the bar, but my dad wasn’t like other fathers. He was the president of the Royal Bastards MC, and he didn’t care what other people thought or did. This is how he wanted me to live, and I had no other choice in life.
After my first shift, I almost begged my dad to let me go back to school. However, I was too proud to beg for anything, so I continued to work each night at the clubhouse, having no life other than a barmaid.
The Royal Bastards are a rough crew. They always have been, and my dad is one of the roughest. The only member I found myself liking was Blake, and that’s because he was the only one who didn’t scare the shit out of me and was younger compared to the others.
I was lonely and didn’t have many friends other than Pete from the gym, who I kept in touch with. He is a great friend and had his own apartment not far from the clubhouse. My father knows he’s gay, so when I’d sleep there, he doesn’t ask any questions, even though he said I could sleep with whoever I wanted.
Each night, when I’d go to sleep, I’d make sure I locked my door, too scared that one of the MC members would come into my room. Even though they knew I was off-limits, I could never trust them. Most of the time, they were drunk or high, and I couldn’t take any chances.
Blake and I have managed to hide whatever we are for five months, which suits me just fine. I don’t want any relationship with him, but it’s nice to know I have someone to crawl in bed with when I feel like it. It makes those lonely nights bearable.
If my father finds out, he will kill Blake with no questions asked. In Blake’s defense, I did throw myself at him and took advantage of his drunk state. There are only so many times he can try to kick me out of his room before he gives in, especially when I undress and play with myself.
Love is what it’s not—I will never fall in love with anyone. It’s not in the cards for me. My plan is to work here until I save enough money to get the hell out of Toronto and make a life for myself somewhere where no one knows my father or me. Maybe I’ll travel to Europe and visit France—a place that’s on my bucket list. Yes, I can imagine myself living there for a while, enjoying French food and French men.
Blake is just a distraction for me to get through these long days and nights until I finally get the hell away from here. I’ve always been told I’m beautiful and could model. Maybe I should do that and make some extra money so I can get out of here quicker.
About six months ago, a man walked up to me in the local grocery store with a business card, asking if I had ever considered modeling. At first, I thought he was just trying to get in my pants, but when I called his number the day after, a receptionist answered and knew all about me.
So, I went to the office to talk about what opportunities they had for me, and I was surprised to see how professional the building was. Images of models I see in magazines and commercials cover the walls, and the lady who spoke to me on the phone offered me tea or coffee while I met with Bill, the agent who approached me.
We looked at portfolios of women Bill had represented, and I even recognized some of them. This was like a dream come true, something girls have dreams about.
Bill explained that I would get some professional photos taken so I would have a portfolio of my own. Then Bill would take care of the rest.
I’ve always been told I’m beautiful, with green eyes the color of emeralds and long, black, wavy hair that reaches my lower back, but I never thought I was model material.
I’m not exactly what you call skinny. I am tall, though, with long legs. However, I have hips, a narrow waist, and full breasts. Bill spoke about getting me on television because he thought I had the face for it. But my dream was short-lived. I never got a chance to have any photos taken because when my dad got wind of it, he shut that down quickly. He said no daughter of his was going to be on television and that the only reason Bill approached me in the first place was because he knew who my father was and was probably working with the RCMP.
My father can be an asshole sometimes and paranoid as hell. He thinks everything that happens in this world is all because they want to bring his club down. I know he tries to be a good father, and being an only parent is hard, but I wish he could have wanted better for me, encouraged me to do better, and not be caught up in his world. Living in the clubhouse means I’ve seen things no child or woman should have to.
Some days, when he’s not drunk or high, I can see the man my mom fell in love with. My mom was nineteen when she met my dad, and he was thirty-five. As my dad tells it, she was a backpacker traveling around North America, hitchhiking to get from one place to the next. My dad saw her hitchhiking on the side of the road and pulled over to offer her a ride. It was apparently love at first sight.
Mom was an orphan. My dad says that her mom left her at the age of two at the orphanage for kids. My poor mom had gone from place to place, taken in by foster families until they found her a permanent home, but that ended up being a shit show. It seemed they were grooming her to be a prostitute to make money for them, and by the time she realized it, she got out as quickly as she could, managing to steal money that she knew they hid under their bed.
It was then that she decided to make her own way in life and traveled until she found a place of her own. That was when she met my father.
Because she was desperate to have her own family, they got married when my mom was twenty and got pregnant with me right away.
My memory of her is somewhat faded as I was only three when she died. My dad says she was in a car accident. She was on her way to Walmart to get ingredients for dinner when a drunk driver hit her face-on, killing her instantly.
My dad doesn’t like to talk about her or his past much, so sometimes I find myself speaking about her to Spanner, who’s known my dad for years. Spanner is the sergeant at arms. Spanner is his road name, but his birth name is Joe.
Joe says the day my mother died was the day my father died along with her. He isn’t the same man anymore. He lost the love of his life, and since then, he hasn’t cared what happened to him or anyone else. I hope that doesn’t include me, but some days, I wonder. Joe says that my dad went to a very dark place at the time, and they didn’t think he would get through it. That’s probably when the club changed, and my father led them in a different direction. One that has seen them on the news or in jail.
My dad thinks I’m na?ve, and I don’t know what happens at the club. But I do. I know he deals in illegal weapons and has a connection with drugs that are on our streets. I know some bad shit goes down when I see them having meetings in the room they call Church with men who look rich in their expensive Armani suits. Or when they take secret phone calls that later have them all on their bikes and away for a few nights.
I don’t know why he insists on hiding this information from me. I see the way they party, the cocaine they have at their club parties, packaged in non-labeled bags. Drugs that are packaged that way can’t be bought on the street. But I don’t question him. Even if I did, he would tell me it’s none of my business.
Coming back to the present, my eyes roam over Blake’s body one last time before I kneel down to search under the bed for my underwear.
“Ah, there it is,” I whisper, finding my black thong. Quickly sliding them up my legs, I pull down the black jean skirt and adjust my white Rolling Stones T-shirt I wore last night.
Blake starts snoring again, and I look down at him one last time before tiptoeing to his bedroom door, not wanting to wake him.
It’s still early, and no one should be up at this hour of the morning, considering how hard they partied last night. But that doesn’t stop me from quietly unlocking the bedroom door and peeking from left to right before I take the chance to step out.
With very quiet steps, I make my way down the hall to the back of the clubhouse, where my dad created my own wing.
Well, that’s what he calls it. I wouldn’t exactly use that word. However, I do have my own bedroom and television area. And, of course, my very own bathroom.
Just as I reach my door, I hear Mikki’s sly voice. “Hey there, darlin’, does your daddy know you’re sneaking out at night?”
Whipping around to face him, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t trust him. He’s never actually tried anything other than trying to steal a kiss here and there, but I don’t like the way he looks at me or accidentally touches me. His eyes cover my body from head to toe in a revolting way. He’s as old as my father and is his VP, but that doesn’t stop him from making it known that he wants me.
Mikki and my dad are old friends. They go way back. When my dad created the RBMC, Mikki was brought in as his VP. He insists on me calling him Uncle Mikki even though he’s not my uncle through blood. My dad insists on me calling him that too.
The times I’m forced to kiss him on his cheek or hug him, his hands always manage to touch my ass or breast, and he always laughs it off when I yell at him.
“What do you want, Mikki?” I ask, noticing his eyes are on my bare legs. Disgusting. His long gray hair looks disheveled, and his black shirt is open to his navel, revealing his bare chest, which is full of gray hair. His shirt shows signs of puke but not the fresh kind, the kind that would have happened last night, and he chose to sleep in it.
What’s he doing down this side of the hall anyway? His room is on the other side of the clubhouse.
He takes a couple of steps closer to me, and my body is on high alert. I immediately step back, my head hitting the back of my bedroom door.
I don’t like being alone with him, especially when everyone is still asleep.
“Nothing much, sugar,” he replies in a drawl. He steps closer, and his face is close to mine. He runs his index finger down my cheek, and I want to scream.
“Don’t, Mikki,” I warn, not liking the way his eyes are dilated. Has he taken drugs this morning, or is he still high from last night?
“Give your uncle a kiss,” he asks, stepping in closer once again. Not able to move, his body touches mine, and bile rises to the back of my throat. I want to yell at him to get the fuck away from me, but that would only wake up the others, and I don’t need them to see me sneaking back to my room. It would only raise questions, and I can’t afford for them to find out about Blake and me.
I’m a grown woman, and as my dad said, I can sleep with whoever I want, but not one of his members. But something tells me Mikki knows more than he’s letting on.
“ No,” I growl. “Get the fuck away from me,” I warn, hissing at him.
“Mm… sugar. You know something? Seeing you hiss like that only makes me want you the fuck more.”
“If my dad hears the way you’re talking to me, he will kill you.”
He smirks, showing off his yellow teeth, making me want to throw up all over him.
“He won’t, though, will he, sugar? Because if you don’t keep your little mouth shut, then I’ll tell Daddy about how you’re fucking Blake, and we both know what will happen if he hears about that, don’t we?”
All the air vanishes from my lungs, and I feel sweat cover my face. He smiles, knowing that I’ve just confirmed that what he’s saying is true.
“You’ve got that all wrong,” I explain in a panic. “There’s no way I’m with Blake.”
“Oh, sugar, you think I’m stupid, don’t you?” His right hand rests on my hip.
“I’ve seen you.” He leans in and licks my neck from my ear down to my collarbone. I shiver in disgust, the scent of sweat and weed coming out of his pores. I’m going to be sick .
Without thinking, I bring my knee up and hit him in his balls, causing him to bellow out in pain. I use this as an opportunity to turn to face my door and quickly, with shaking hands, unlock it and run in, slamming it behind me.
Locking the door urgently, I walk backward, my eyes still focused on the door. The back of my knees hit the edge of my bed, causing me to sit.
I sit there for a while, wondering if Mikki’s going to try and break in. Surely, he wouldn’t be that stupid. The sounds will only cause the others to wake up, and how will he explain what he is doing breaking down my door? He knows the rules—my side of the hallway is off-limits. My dad made that clear from the beginning.
Time passes. Biting the bullet, I stand and return to the door. Placing my ear up against the wooden surface, I struggle to hear any sound at all. No groaning, no words, nothing.
Inhaling, I unlock it, slowly peer around the door, and sigh in relief when I find no trace of Mikki. Would he have the guts to tell my dad about Blake and me? If he does, I’m going to have to deny it. I also need to warn Blake about Mikki. We need to be more careful or stop things for a while.
Even though I don’t love Blake, it’s nice to have some kind of relationship, even if it is just a fuck buddy. I know he sleeps with other women, and that’s fine by me. The club would ask questions if he didn’t, but lately, I’ve noticed he’s not taking any women back to his room. I really need to talk to him and let him know that Mikki’s onto us, and he’s only going to prove he’s right if he’s not fucking anyone else.
Shutting the door, I lock it again and then head to the shower to wash. It’s Saturday, and Saturday nights are usually an excuse for another party, which means I will be busy.
Other chapters travel to Toronto, and my father loves catching up with other presidents behind closed doors. I would love to know what they discuss, but once again, I’m not allowed to ask any questions.
Sighing, I try to focus on the positives, and that is making tips tonight. The busier it is, the more money I will make.
If my dad knew I was saving money, he’d want to know what I needed it for, and there’s no way I’m going to tell him about my plans. He would only stop me.
With that last thought, my stomach rumbles, letting me know I’m hungry. Struggling to remember the last time I ate, I decide to make myself something right after I finish my shower.
The boys will be expecting breakfast soon. Guess who will organize that? That’s right, me. Oh, and Peggy. Peggy is Dad’s whore and tries to act like my mother. I don’t know why the hell she thinks she can be my mother when she’s basically only five years older than me. I have no idea what she sees in my dad. Sure, he’s masculine and handsome in a way, but he’s old enough to be her father.
When my dad was with my mother, I’d seen him in his younger years, and he was youthful and very good-looking, but now all that is gone with all the smoking, drugs, and alcohol he has.
I know why Peggy is with him, and that’s because he’s the president of the RBMC. She wants to be beside him, hoping he will make her his old lady someday, but that won’t happen. My dad is just using her, just like I’m using Blake. Someone to warm our beds at night.