7. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Trix
Today is off to an awful start, and I'm hoping that something will happen to change it around.
It's still the morning, so there's hope, I guess.
By the time I got home from the diner last night, I was exhausted, and after making the bed, I collapsed onto it and passed out; therefore, I forgot to set an alarm.
Thankfully, I didn't wake up too late, but it was much later than I'd planned, which then caused me to run around the trailer like a headless chicken, rushing to get ready.
Because I was in a hurry to leave, I tripped down the wooden steps when I finally emerged from my trailer and scraped the skin off my knee.
Then, after running through the trailer park while calling a cab—hoping to find a car to get me to work on time—I was informed no one would drive me to that location and the operator promptly hung up.
So now, here I am, walking toward the clubhouse, sweat trickling down my back with my battered handbag held over my head, shielding my face from the sun beaming down on me.
Checking the time on my phone, I grumble, then push myself to walk faster, even though I'm already panting like a dog and in desperate need of some water.
Honey told me to be at the clubhouse by eight so I could clean everything down before the members started ambling about for the day.
It's five minutes to eight, and I highly doubt I'm going to make it on time.
I wipe at the sweat covering my forehead, and sigh in relief when I see the turn which leads to the clubhouse.
Surely being slightly late won't be an issue?
I can't imagine these men waking up and immediately wanting to start drinking at the bar.
Although I have no idea what members of a motorcycle club do with their day…
Fuck.
Removing my bag from my head, I sling it over my shoulder, then use the band on my wrist to twist my hair into a high bun before jogging down the lane.
A slight breeze flows past me, cooling my heated skin as I move under the shaded cover of the trees surrounding me, and that's when the wooden house starts to come into view.
Rifling through my bag, I grab the bottle of water I shoved in there this morning, unscrew the cap, and guzzle half of it down as I slow my pace to a brisk walk.
Checking the time again, I see that it's now eight o'clock, and I'm close enough to the house not to have to worry about being exceedingly late on my first day.
I can't afford to make a bad impression this early on.
Jogging the rest of the way, I reach the wooden porch steps and bend over, hands on my knees, while I greedily gulp down as much air as I can.
"Well, aren't you a hot mess?"
A small, almost silent scream makes its way past my lips as I jump, then whirl around to face the man who just startled me.
His long blond hair is unruly, curling over his forehead and falling in front of his crystal blue eyes.
He chuckles and takes a step toward me.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump."
Still trying to catch my breath, I wave my hand in front of me and shake my head.
"It's okay," I tell him, hands now on my hips as I straighten back up. "No need to apologize."
He shoots me a blinding smile, then motions his head toward the double doors behind me.
"You heading inside?" he asks.
I nod, gulping as I awkwardly shuffle around, nerves eating away at my insides.
"Yeah… I should be."
He moves around me, walking up a couple of steps, then offers me his hand.
"I can walk you inside if you'd like?"
My brows raise in surprise.
To avoid having to take his hand, I hold the strap of my bag with one hand, shove the other in my back pocket, then nod.
"Sure. Lead the way."
Following after him, I take a deep breath before entering the bar area, then release it immediately when I see the room is mostly empty.
"I'm pretty sure Prez will want to see you first thing," the blond man says, moving around the pool tables and over to the stairs.
The hairs on my neck prickle, and the weight of someone's gaze burns into my skin.
A shiver runs down my spine, and although I'm tempted to, I don't dare turn around to find who's looking at me.
Although the man in front of me seems nice, and Liam assured me that everyone here is respectful and not as bad as I've heard, I can't help but have some doubts.
When you've been hurt and betrayed by men in your life who were meant to love and protect you, it becomes second nature to be wary and untrusting of every other man you meet after that.
They're good at putting on a front, of being deceitful, and most of them have learnt that their words have power.
They'll take their time to make you feel secure and comfortable, and then—when they've got you in the palm of their hand—they pull the rug from underneath you and show their true colors, obliterating the image you created of them in your head and upending your life.
Well, that's my experience, anyway.
When we reach the top of the stairs, we enter the communal living area, which is also thankfully empty.
The door across from us opens, and Callux walks out, his eyes darting from me to the man beside me.
He crosses his thick, tattooed arms over his chest, then leans his body against the door frame.
"Luxe, what are you doing?"
The man beside me rubs at the back of his neck. A hue of pink coloring his cheeks as he looks down at the floor.
"I was just helping her out, showing her up here," he says, shrugging.
When Callux frowns, my stomach twists. I step forward, drawing his attention to me.
"He was just being helpful," I add, unsure why I'm jumping in to defend a man I don't even know.
The older, bearded man smirks and nods.
"Alright, well, you can clear off now, kid. Trix will be fine on her own."
Luxe turns around, shyly smiling at me, then heads back down the stairs, leaving me alone with the intimidating man who—from what I understand—runs the show around here.
He straightens up, then walks down a short hallway and into a room with an extremely large wooden table surrounded by at least twenty chairs.
"This'll only be quick," he says. Taking a seat at the head of the table, he nudges the chair beside him with his foot. "Just wanted to run over what we'll be paying you and some dos and don'ts for whilst you're here."
Removing my bag from my shoulder and placing it on the floor, I cautiously take the seat next to him.
"Honey already explained everything I'd be doing. She told me I'm to stay out of here—unless invited—and to also keep away from the other side of the clubhouse," I tell him, pausing as I flick my gaze around the room quickly. "I was curious as to why though."
He crooks a dark brow, then leans back in his seat.
Gulping, I pick at the chipped polish on my nails.
"I understand it's probably none of my business, but I'd also like to make sure I'm not working on this side of the house, while something I probably don't agree with, is happening on the other side of the wall."
He snickers, then lifts his large hand adorned in bulky silver rings to his face as he smooths his fingers over his dark, bushy beard.
"This side is where the members hang out. The left side of the house is bedrooms and a communal bathroom downstairs for the lower members. That's why Honey would've told you to stay away."
"Oh," I mutter, nodding. "Okay, that makes sense."
He spends a moment assessing me, then he stands up and moves to the filing cabinet shoved in the corner of the room.
Withdrawing a sheet of paper, he walks back to the table, slides it in front of me, then grabs a pen from the center of the table.
"I had a contract drawn up. You can read through it and then, if you're happy with everything written down, sign it."
I lift the paper, my eyes scanning the words scrawled across it, but when I spy the amount I'll be getting paid weekly, my jaw falls open, and my eyes bulge.
"Is something wrong?" Callux asks.
Glancing at him, I snap my mouth closed,then shake my head.
"Not necessarily. I just… Honestly? I think you're offering to pay me way too much."
"Not at all," he says, plucking the paper from my hands and placing it back on the table.
"The boys here can be rowdy, and often enough, they're a pain in the ass.
You're going to be around them a lot, and if you're willing to subject yourself to those boisterous assholes down there, then you deserve to be paid well. "
I look back down at the sum written on the paper.
"But I'd hardly be doing anything. The place is already extremely clean, and aside from helping Honey out in the kitchen and making some drinks here and there, I'm pretty sure I'll just be sitting downstairs doing nothing. I really don't need to be paid $2,000 a week."
He huffs and jabs his finger at the paper.
"Unfortunately, sweetheart, I won't be taking no for an answer. Especially since my son mentioned you'd found yourself in trouble. So, go ahead and sign your name, then get to work."
I stare at him in disbelief, then I pick up the pen and sign my name at the bottom.
He takes the paper, nods, then stands from his chair, apparently, waiting for me to do the same.
Grabbing my bag, I follow him out of the room, still in a state of bewilderment.
Consumed by my thoughts, I almost walk into him at the top of the stairs, not having realized he'd stopped.
"By the sound of it, most of the menaces have found their way into the bar already, so I'm sure you'll manage to find something to keep yourself busy," he says, motioning down the stairs. "Have a good day, Trix."
I stand there, watching as he walks down the short hallway. Once the door swings shut behind him, I release a deep breath.
Jesus. That guy's intimidating.
Wiping my palms against my thighs, I slowly make my way to the bar area that's now buzzing with life.
Two young-looking guys are playing darts, and as my eyes sweep over them, they both nod in acknowledgement.
Luxe is sitting in the corner booth on the opposite side of the room next to Liam's brother, who's already staring at me.