Chapter 8
MERRICK
Marietta moved in yesterday, but Saturdays are busy at the bar, so I didn’t go by the clubhouse. I shouldn’t go see her, anyway. The men will notice, especially Iron Jack.
But Sunday morning is church, and I’m expected to sit in the corner like a good prospect. Diesel and Symphony are going to open the bar, so I have until evening to do as I like.
Now that Marietta is safely tucked in the clubhouse, I don’t have to sit outside her apartment anymore.
It’s good. Those long, broody hours have done a number on my head.
In fact, last night, a well-endowed redhead at the bar specifically asked to ride my bike, and I passed her off to Hoss, acting like I was too busy.
That was some bullshit behavior on my part, and I know it had to do with those long nights of staring at Marietta.
Carol’s still pregnant, and today when I approach the kitchen, I spot her resting on a stool, Betz beside her. They both look like they just rolled out of bed in sweatpants and hoodies, Carol in pink. Betz wears black, as always.
Betz sees me. “Your little cherry is good with her hands.”
I hesitate as I enter, half expecting to see Marietta giving someone a hand job in the pantry.
But she’s slicing strawberries. She glances over her shoulder. “Hey, Merrick.”
“Prospect,” Betz says. “Call them by their patch.”
She nods. “Hello, Prospect.”
I halt in my tracks. They’ve totally changed her look. Her hair is wavy and wild, with the front pulled back with a sparkly comb. Her low-slung jeans are ripped all over the place, including a big section that reveals a good amount of her ass.
A pink thong is visible above them, riding her bare hipbones. Her midriff is exposed between the jeans and a tight, long-sleeve, black crop top.
Why do they have her looking like a bunny if she’s a mouse?
“Aren’t you going to say good morning back to her, Prospect?” Betz asks with a snort.
“Uh, yeah. Good morning, Marietta.”
“Call her Mouse,” Betz says. “She’ll get a name if she earns it.”
“Sure. Good morning, Mouse.”
Marietta grins at me. “Fascinating social structure.”
“Shut up with your college talk,” Betz says. “Move along, Prospect.”
“Take that,” Carol says, pointing to the jug of cranberry juice and a liter of vodka.
I snag the two items and move on. I’m glad Marietta is chipper in the face of Betz. I’ve never seen her act so harshly. But then, she hasn’t had a house mouse to boss around. I’m relieved Marietta didn’t change her status to bunny right away. When I saw her, I wasn’t sure.
Hoss exits his room ahead of me as I walk the long hall, leaving the door open. I glance in as I pass, and the redhead from last night is lounging on the bed, stark naked.
She sees me and grins. “Thanks for the rec. Hoss was great.”
I lift the vodka bottle. “Happy to be of service.”
As I bump the door to the meeting room open with my shoulder, I see Marietta walking slowly on those breakneck heels, a tray of fruit in her hands.
She’s clearly not used to shoes like that, but she’s making her way well enough.
She smiles at me but looks with curiosity through Hoss’s open door as she approaches, I guess to see who I was talking to.
It’s easy to know when she spots the redhead because she stumbles.
I want to rescue her, but my hands are full, and the door is halfway open to the meeting room. I won’t be of any help by the time I can get to her.
Her eyes go wide, but she rights herself, with only a lone grape rolling off the tray to the floor.
“I’ll get that, hon,” the redhead says, appearing in the hall, completely naked, and picking it up.
Marietta steps aside to give her room, taking her in. “Did those hurt?” she asks, her gaze dropping to the woman’s barbell nipples.
“Nah,” she says. “I like a good tweak.”
Marietta’s eyes go wide. “You do?”
The woman laughs. “Sweet little mouse.”
I ease the door closed again so the men inside don’t notice me standing in the hall. I’m riveted by Marietta’s conversation.
The redhead examines the grape, then pops it in her mouth.
The contrast is stark. Marietta—tall, willowy, awkward in the heels, not really comfortable in the getup, like a kid in a costume.
And the redhead—all breast and thigh and ass, leaning against the doorframe like a bordello worker from the Wild West.
“Some men like two girls. I don’t mind sharing. It’s all in good fun, if you want to try it.”
Like hell that will happen. My voice roars down the hall, “Mouse, get your ass in here with the food.”
Marietta jumps and hurries my way. I shove the door open with my elbow and step aside so she can pass.
My yelling at her quiets the men, then they laugh.
“Prospect likes having a mouse to boss around,” Chain says. “Come over here, Mouse. I know we can’t have you, but we can take a look-see.”
Marietta finds her composure, flashing Chain a smile. “Betz helped me get dressed today. She found some clothes lying around left by bunnies.”
Low Joe reaches out to snap the elastic of the pink thong. “I approve of my lady’s choices.”
“Watch your fucking hands,” Iron Jack says. “Nobody touches the mouse.”
Low Joe laughs. “All right, all right.”
Marietta definitely has the attention of the club as she sets the tray on the table. She comes over and takes the vodka and cranberry from me. “Can I pour anything for you all?”
“Run along,” Iron Jack says. “We need to get started.”
I open the door for her again, not relaxing until she’s down the hall, past Hoss’s room. Then I latch the door and take my seat in the corner.
“So, what’s the deal with the mouse?” Chain asks. “We can’t claim her?”
“No.” Iron Jack’s gaze sweeps the room, his face hard. “She’s new to the club, and she needs to figure out what she wants. If anyone so much as lays a hand on her, I will deal with you personally.”
“You better dig that marsh hole now,” Hoss says. “Because everybody here’s got eyes.”
Iron Jack slams a fist on the table. “I will seriously fuck any of you up.” His eyes turn to me. “Prospect, you and your brother are close to the mouse and her friends. You report back if she talks about anyone mistreating her.”
I nod. Nobody makes a quip that it could be me who lays a hand on her. I guess I’ve made it way too clear that I already passed on her. She certainly thinks it.
The meeting moves on. Marietta doesn’t come up again.
But for me, she’s the only thing on my mind.