CHAPTER 6
PLAYBOY
When I see Opal restocking behind the bar at the clubhouse, I make my way over to her. I’ve already seen the boxes from Bunz Out. I’ve already inspected the loot.
It was fresh.
She was there today.
Which means she might have seen the flowers. Did she talk to Lara? What happened? Were they still there or were they thrown out?
I wouldn’t blame Lara if she did throw them out. It’ll sting, but I can’t even be mad about it.
People have been giving me a little more space lately and it makes me even more embarrassed. Not only was my behavior out of line, but out of character. Replaying things back in my head, I’m seeing it differently now.
And hearing all the warnings I dismissed.
Not just from Lara either.
Opal looks up and sees me coming. The way her lips press together and her mouth turns down, I know she’s just as disappointed in me as everyone else. As am I.
I run my fingers through my hair and sit at the bar in the area where she’s working. I’m not entirely sure where to start and that’s new for me. Opal is two years older than me; I’ve known her my whole life.
We’re friends. I’ve never not known what to say to her.
She sighs and her face softens slightly. Can she see the regret written all over my face?
I’ve been avoiding Lola for days. I’ve been avoiding most people.
What I’ve done is start a certain coloring book for a certain ten-year-old little girl. I think it’s a rather effective use of my time. Certainly, better than how I used to spend my time, like when Lola would whisper her little kernels of bullshit.
“The flowers were beautiful,” Opal throws out there without preamble.
Her lips press together for a moment before her mouth relaxes and she leans her forearms onto the bar.
She studies my face for a long moment. “It was a real top-level move sending two arrangements. And I looked up the meanings for the flowers and informed Lara while I was there.”
Her eyes sparkle and I know that little tidbit was her way of helping me out. I’ll take whatever assist I can get at this point.
“It’s not enough though,” she tells me straight up. There’s no pity in her voice. Or sympathy.
“I didn’t think it would be,” I admit.
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Excellent fucking question,” I mutter more to myself than to her.
Opal pushes up off the bar and goes back to restocking while I ponder the very question that I’ve been asking myself.
“I think you need to also ask yourself why you’re so invested in this whole redemption quest you seem to be embarking upon,” Opal throws the words toward me.
Then her gaze shifts and her face goes blank. I know exactly why when a hand slides over my shoulder and someone wearing way too much fucking perfume sits down next to me. She keeps a hand on me, like I’m her damn property, the entire time.
It makes my skin crawl.
My jaw clenches but she doesn’t notice. Or she just doesn’t care.
“You’ve been so mopey,” Lola whines, every word dripping with complaint and begging for me to indulge her.
Opal’s eyes flash with disgust, but she keeps working, leaving me to deal with what I’ve allowed to fester in my own damn club. I’m very aware that this is my fault and it’s all because of what I allowed.
I gave Lola all the inches she wanted, and she took every single one with abandon and reveled in the miles she took.
That shit is on me.
I’m grateful when Opal stays close instead of stepping away. I hate to admit it, but I might need some backup, and we don’t put our hands on women.
I shrug Lola off me and give her an icy look. She pouts like we’re fucking playacting or something.
Intimidating men is kind of my bread and butter. But this club whore is looking at me like I’m just being silly and should just give into her. How the fuck was I so blind before?
Now I’m see much more clearly. I’m not liking what is coming into focus at all.
“Is this about Lara?” Lola’s question comes out somewhere between a pout and a whine. It grates against everything in me. She doesn’t see the warning in the way my body goes rigid. “Who cares about her anyway? It’s not like anything she was saying is true.” She scoffs, “And the brat? Please.”
What the actual fuck?
I look at her for a long, suspended moment, just trying to figure out where the hell this woman found the balls to pretend like her lies haven’t been laid out there like a head on a spike for the crows to feast on.
“Are you Vanessa’s biological mother?” I put the question out there bluntly, voice flat.
Lola goes pale. Her reaction is all the answer I need. And that’s only if I didn’t already believe Lara, but I did.
Opal snickers, “You really left too early the other day Lola.” She shakes her head, clearly enjoying this moment a little too much.
Not that I can blame her for it. “Lara told everyone the truth of who Vanessa is and what happened. Vanessa confirmed it, not like anyone needed it. Her version of events wasn’t just plausible,” she pauses, her eyes raking over Lola like she’s looking at something stuck to her shoe, “it was obvious.”
Lola’s mouth drops open and for a moment I’m stuck between rage and uncontrollable laughter. Because she really thought Lara would protect her lie. Or at least not out her completely. Maybe just refuse to comment?
I don’t know, but her reaction has my eyes sliding closed.
Against everything I was too fucking stupid to see before.
And there was so much.
Any lingering doubt I had about Lola and Lara and the truth of it all…evaporates.
There wasn’t much left to begin with. But after being so thoroughly manipulated, I had to recognize that truth usually exists somewhere in between. In the gray area.
But that small willingness to examine the gray is gone now. It has burned away.
In the ashes only determination is left. A determination to replace all the memories of what I said and the way I treated Lara with something better. Something more.
I’m not even sure I understand why I need to do it.
Lola’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “I don’t know what she said, but you can’t believe her,” she tries.
Her words land flat. We both hear it. She doesn’t back down. Stubbornness colors her features; she’s worked hard to get this far. I’m sure she doesn’t want to let it all go to waste.
“She was always good at playing the victim,” Lola’s voice wobbles and tears fill her eyes.
I watch with fascination as one tear wells up perfectly. It rolls gently over her lash line and then down her cheek. Another one follows closely after.
Timed.
Executed.
Just an act.
“Your biological daughter called you a grifter. She said she looked up the word, so she’d have one,” my words are flat.
Lola freezes, whatever excuse she was trying to summon up dies on her tongue. Good. I’m done listening to her.
“I don’t want anything to do with you,” there’s no warmth in my voice. No understanding. No sympathy.
Lola gasps softly and she looks devastated. Just an act. “Y-y-you can’t really mean that,” she stammers out as if she’s experiencing the height of heartbreak and loss.
“Of course, I really mean it,” I sneer the words. “Who, exactly, do you think you are?”
That shuts her up for exactly three seconds. She motions between us, the movement jerky as if she’s barely holding it together, “But what about us?”
Opal makes a sound like a dying animal and when I glance at her she’s almost turning purple with how hard she’s holding back her laughter. I give her a flat look, and she fans her face like it’s going to do a bit of good.
When she can’t hold it together a second longer, her laughter rings out long, and loud in the room. Lola looks stunned and then pissed. I snap my fingers to bring her attention back to me and watch as her expression shifts again. On a fucking dime.
She goes for sweet this time.
It’s disgusting.
“Phew,” Opal breathes out. Amusement fills every word, “She really asked, ‘what about us’.”
“There is nothing between us,” I say the words slowly. She looks legitimately baffled and my jaw clenches. “If you don’t back off,” I grit the words out through my teeth, “I will make it my mission to get you out of this club.”
“No,” she has the gall to look affronted and betrayed as she presses a hand to her chest.
I roll my eyes and wonder if she’s fucking for real right now.
“The only reason you were able to get me to buy into your bullshit was because I felt sorry for you,” my tone is neutral because the words themselves are cruel enough. “You reminded me of my mom.”
Nothing changes on her face; she’s not surprised. Of course she’s not.
“She was a club whore who wanted a patch, too,” I deadpan. “Her problem was that she chased her next high like it was nirvana. If that was her problem,” I tilt my head to the side, studying her, “what’s yours?”
Lola stays silent, but I can see her mind trying to find an angle to work.
“I wonder if you heard about my mommy issues,” there’s no levity in my tone, only steel, “and it’s why you thought I’d make an easy mark.”
I smirk, the challenge written clear on my face for her to deny it. She presses her lips together instead.
Smart.
Well, smart-ish.
“You better be grateful that I’m not going after your place here, at least not yet,” the warning is clear in my voice. “I judged Lara out of misplaced spite.”
“No,” she tries one more time, “you want me.”
I snort out a laugh which has her turning red with anger. “I don’t want you,” scorn fills my voice. I shake my head, disbelief tinging the edges of my words, “I might have treated Lara badly out of spite, but I wanted her from the moment I saw her. I never wanted you. Not once.”
The words land.
Lola recoils and looks at me with genuine disbelief.
Did she really think I felt something for her? I never touched her, never reached for her, never pulled her closer.
I don’t say anything else. What else could I even try to say?
Lola swallows hard before her lips part and close a few times. Eventually, she decides to keep her mouth shut and slinks away.
I don’t watch her leave because I don’t care.
My gaze is fixed on the wood of the bar. I take a few deep breaths while trying to push my anger and self-loathing down. Now isn’t the time and it won’t do me any good.
I need a plan.
A really fucking good plan.
Opal’s right, flowers are weak. But I had to start somewhere and at least they’re pretty. Maybe that’ll count for something.
Something small, but something all the same.
When I look up, Opal is standing there staring at me. Her eyes are big and round. My neck turns hot. Way too fucking hot. I rub the skin there and look away.
“I just said it to piss her off,” not playing completely dumb; only slightly.
The flat look she gives me tells me exactly what she thinks of my attempt at deflecting. Yeah, it wasn’t graceful; I can admit it.
She leans over the bar and looks directly in my eyes. “Are you just interested in taking Lara to bed or is it more?”
“I’m not going to lie, I’m attracted to her,” I speak slowly, picking my words carefully.
“That’s not what I asked you,” she pushes.
I’m aware. I’m just not sure how to answer her question.
With a sigh, I admit, “I don’t know. Honestly.
” I hold my hands up when her expression turns close to murderous in its frustration.
“I want her, I know that much, but what it means?” I grimace.
“If you think I’m going to admit to some grand love, I’m sorry I have to disappoint you.
” With a huff, I remind her, “It’s not like I ever pictured having an Old Lady. ”
And I didn’t.
Maybe it’s because Dad never ended up settling down. Maybe it’s because I felt like my road name was a self-fulfilling prophecy from the moment it was given to me.
Either way, I never let myself imagine it.
“You need to figure it out,” she hisses, clearly annoyed. Yeah, yeah. Get in line.
“I want to,” I insist. “First I have to get her to talk to me.”
Opal lets out a low whistle and mutters, “Good luck with that one.”
Fuck.
The flowers were a good start, but they were always going to just be the start. Now I need to figure out what’s next. If I was charming a woman, I’d be putting effort into nice dates and gifts.
I can’t exactly take the same approach with Lara. Not completely.
“Vanessa mentioned the coloring book,” Opal finally fills the silence stretching between us. I’m grateful. “What kind of adventures are you going to send her on?”
“I have a whole list,” I can’t keep the excitement out of my voice.
“A lot of outdoor stuff like fishing, mountain climbing, and white-water rafting. But I was also thinking about climbing the Empire State Building like King Kong.” I chuckle slightly.
“I’m treating each one kind of like a bucket list.”
Something starts to form in my mind, an idea. Maybe. More of a notion.
Vanessa asked for something that utilizes one of the only skills I have. The only other thing I’m good at is my art.
I hadn’t realized Opal has been chattering steadily and throwing out all sorts of suggestions I probably should have been listening to. Interrupting her, I blurt out, “Do you think Lara wants a tattoo?”
A slow grin begins to grow into something almost blinding on Opal’s face. “I don’t know, but I think that using your talent to help you say sorry is a damn good idea.”
“Will you help me?”
Opal claps her hands and nods eagerly. Anticipation starts to fill me instead of just guilt and dread.
I’m not sure if it’ll work.
I’m definitely not sure Lara will let me get close enough to tattoo her. I wouldn’t blame her if she said no.
But it’s an idea. And, maybe, a place to start.