Chapter 26 - Camile
CAMILE
As night descends, my nerves grow, and I keep second-guessing my plan.
Rook hasn’t shown up again now that Jack has warned him off, and I’m so lonely it hurts. I’ll take Jack’s anger over any more of this emptiness. The house is perfectly fine for my needs, but there are no personal touches, and I can’t stop thinking about home, and my mom.
I make up my mind. Determined, but nervous, I storm into my current bedroom and stand in front of the closet where I hung some things, the need to be around people overriding everything else.
Do I go like this in my sweet, daytime suitable dress, or do I stick to my plan to piss Jack off and change? Pausing for a moment, I consider that, beyond pissing Jack off or not, if I wear something sexier, then in an odd way I might get fewer weird looks because I’ll fit in more.
I don’t have a ton of overtly sexy clothes, but I do have a few pieces. The girls here wear things that are more directly, in your face sexy. I have something that would suit. It’s whether I have the proverbial balls to wear it.
Luckily, when Vani grabbed a ton of my clothes, she picked up a sexy little number. I doubt she paused to look at it, because if she had she wouldn’t have packed it. The girl had been in a crazy rush, and her selection of my things was somewhat eclectic, but right now, I’m grateful for that.
It’s a black body-con dress, with a corset style top and lace trim around the bottom. It’s tight, it’s short, and it makes me look curvier than I am because of clever stitching around the waist and hips.
Screw it. I throw my clothes off and take a thong out of the drawer where I’ve stashed some undies.
I pull that on, and don’t need a bra with this dress.
The body spray I had put on earlier has worn off, so I spritz myself with an extortionately expensive scent my mom bought for me last year while on a trip to Europe.
It smells like dark, sexy cherries, and makes me feel all grown up when I wear it.
I pull the dress on, adding the pair of heels from my date with Ledger. Standing straight, I stare at myself.
Holy shit.
I don’t look like myself. Jack will have a meltdown when he sees this bombshell version of me.
I’m heavier handed than usual with my makeup, and I finish off by teasing my hair a little and spraying it, so it looks fuller.
Ready, I grab the small purse, also from the date from hell, and with nerves fizzing in my stomach, I close the door of the house.
Heels click-clacking loudly in the night, I hurry across the open space, aware of how vulnerable I am, and head toward the thumping bass of the clubhouse.
“Hey there.” A man steps out of the shadows, and I almost scream, but it’s Ace, thank God.
“Where are you going?” he asks, eying me warily.
“To the clubhouse.”
“Whoa, Camile, no.”
“Sorry, but you’re not my dad, and I’m going.”
“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “You’re asking for trouble dressed like that.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Seems to me women get in trouble no matter what they’re wearing.”
He doesn’t have a comeback for that.
We get closer to the clubhouse, and he gives me one more look before shrugging and walking in the opposite direction.
“You’re not going?” I call after him, surprised, and experiencing a tiny dip of disappointment.
He stops and turns back to me. “With you dressed like that?” He stares at me, his gaze flicking up and down my body. “God, no. I value my balls too much. Anyway, I’ve got a visit with the nurse.”
He turns his head to the side, and I flinch. Crimson streaks of blood drip from the bottom of his ear and onto his neck.
“Oh, God, what happened?”
“Snapping turtle.”
“What?”
“Turns out they’re not very grateful. I rescued one, and she bit me.
There I was, leaning in to clear up a cut on her, and she launched herself at my face.
Luckily, I’ve got the reflexes of a god, and I managed to avoid what could have been a mauling of this pretty face.
She still snapped the bottom of my ear, though. ”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. “I guess the name is a warning.”
He gives me a soft, sexy grin and tilts his head. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Do you want me to wait with you while the nurse sews it up?” A part of me—a big part—hopes he’ll accept my offer, so I won’t have to go through with attending the party at the clubhouse.
For a moment, with the way his eyes brighten, I think he’s going to say yes, but he glances at the clubhouse, as if Jack is in there watching us through the walls with x-ray vision.
“Nah, I’m good.” He looks like he’s about to walk off again but pauses, clearly wanting to say something. “Camile, you’re a sweet girl. Truly. You’re gorgeous, but you’re nice, and… just be careful in there, okay?”
Then he strolls off, whistling a song I don’t recognize.
His words jar through me like an insult.
Sweet. Nice. Ugh. I don’t want to be those things.
It’s so fucking passive and bland. I want to be thought of as sexy and confident and powerful.
All the things I believed he thought I was when he had his head buried between my thighs.
Now it’s as though our time together in the hayloft never happened, all because Jack laid down the law, and I can’t help being hurt at that.
I know Jack is the president, but why am I not enough for men to want to fight for the way I’ve seen my friends’ men fight for them?
I desperately want to shrug off my good girl image, but all the men around me seem determined to keep me in that box.
Well, tonight I’m going to be different.
I reach the clubhouse and, gathering my courage, push through the doors. A wall of heat, perfume, and noise hits me.
The place smells like sin, and it sounds like hell. Screams of laughter, loud, deep shouts, and the heavy bass of the kind of music I definitely don’t like shakes the floor.
Perfume and aftershave mix with the scent of light sweat and smoke.
A woman walks by and glances at me. I don’t get the usual, almost hostile stares I’ve been receiving from the women. Instead, she gives me a smile.
“Want to come get in line for the fun, sugar?”
As I have no idea what the fun is, I shake my head and point to the bar. “I need a drink.”
“Okay, sweetie. See you soon.”
She waves her fingers at me and sashays off.
I do as I said and head to the bar. I want time to observe.
To look at this new species of people as if I’m a wildlife photographer, watching.
I grab a double vodka tonic and make my way to a darkened corner, near what looks like a side door to the club.
There are not so many people over here, and, as I sink to the back of the room, I feel safe to take it all in.
Big groups of men are clustered around the place, some as many as twenty strong.
There are a few smaller groups, too, mostly sitting at tables.
The barmaids aren’t topless this time, but a mix of girls in crop tops or sexy bras.
One woman, who is in nothing but a push up lace bra with her jeans, must be in her forties, but she’s got a good pair, so why not?
The men certainly don’t seem to mind by the way they’re ogling her as she walks past.
God, this place is so sexist. Did Vani see all this growing up?
For a while, I stand in the dark, sipping my drink and watching it all play out.
Ghost is in a far corner, sitting alone, nursing a beer, which he barely seems to touch.
Rook is with a group of other, younger looking men.
Neither of them seems to have noticed me, or, if they have, they don’t acknowledge me. There’s no sign of Jack.
I finish my drink, enjoying the buzz it’s given me, and get another. I’m still too uptight, and I want to shrug off that mantle and become someone else.
After about fifteen minutes, the door opens and my heart picks up, hoping it’s Jack, but it’s not.
It’s a huge guy, almost as big as Jack, with short, shaved hair.
He’s dragging a woman into the bar with him, and she giggles as she totters on high heels.
She looks like her outfit was inspired by the eighties, in a pair of thigh-high black leather boots, an incredibly short skirt, a tiny white bandeau style top—which barely contains her massive tits— and thick, teased blonde hair.
She stops as the doors close and turns to her man, pulling his face to hers and kissing him hard.
He kisses her back, his hand going to her nape and holding her in place.
The muscles beneath his t-shirt flex, and I spy tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves and up the side of his neck.
These two are sexy as hell together, and they seem completely oblivious to anyone else in the clubhouse.
Still kissing, he half guides, half carries her over to a pool table that no one is using. With one hand, he rolls the balls out of the way then lifts her up to sit on the edge. She wraps her long legs around his hips and pulls him closer.
From where I’m standing, I get a perfect side view of the couple.
I know I shouldn’t be watching, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes off them.
They’ve got a kind of magnetic energy that’s pulling me in.
I take another sip of my drink and look around to see if anyone else has clocked them, but, if they have, they’re not taking any notice.
I realize Ghost is no longer where he was sitting, and Rook seems to have vanished, too.
Did Ace finish getting his ear sewn up yet?
I wonder if he’ll come and join me, despite what he’d said.
There’s still no sign of Jack.
For a moment, nerves hit me. None of the men who are my self-appointed guards are within eyesight, and that means I’m standing here, in a biker bar, dressed in a sexy outfit, without any protection from the men.
It’s terrifying, but also a tiny bit exhilarating. I wanted to live on the edge, didn’t I?