Page 84 of Off Limits
Then it hits me. I see the red neon sign and I realize I’ve been here before, the night I celebrated with my fellow teammates when us rookies officially joined the Mutineers’ roster.
To Surly’s Tavern.
Chapter Nineteen
Serenity
Kaycee – akaHeaven Scent– is the only one in the communal dressing room when I burst in from outside, my hair damp from the rain.
I drop my bag, double over and grasp my knees. I let go with one hand and cover my mouth. The noise that emerges is a muffled, strangled sob.
‘Hey, Ren,’ Kaycee says until she hears my cry, before she adds, ‘Oh, honey, what’s wrong?’ and gets to her feet.
I straighten and bury my face in my palms. I’m late and I know I should be getting ready, but the entire journey here I was being followed by Jake. I saw him pull up in the parking lot.
I pace back and forth. I want to know if he’s coming into the club, or if seeing me run inside was enough.
‘Sweetie, you need to calm down,’ Kaycee says. ‘You want some water? Shot o’ bourbon? What the hell happened?’
I wipe my eyes. I steady my breathing, tuck my hair behind my ears. ‘This guy I’ve been seeing… he’s just found out why I’m not free most nights.’
She winces. ‘Oh, lord, honey, I’m so sorry. He didn’t suspect a thing?’
‘He thought I was seeing another guy.’
‘That’s sweet. Did you tell him you’re seeinglotsof other guys?’
There’s a wry smile on her face like it’s meant as a joke, only I don’t find it funny. ‘He followed me here. In his pickup.’
‘He comin’ inside to watch the show?’
I feel like crying again. ‘I have no idea.’
She grips both my shoulders in her hands. ‘For your sake, I hope he doesn’t. They’re clamorin’ out there tonight, sugar. Takes a guy mighty sure o’ hisself to handle seeing his girl up on stage like that.’
My voice tremors. ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’
I hear Jax’s voice over the mic. ‘Give it up for our own… Baby Bullets!’
I’ve been lingering backstage, trying to take in the faces of the majority-male Friday night crowd. My heart is racing. I lean back, a gap in the curtain allowing me to glimpse the main door and those still coming in from the rain to pay the entry fee. Yet, I can’t see Jake anywhere.
I wonder if he pulled up in the parking lot, took one look at this joint then decided to leave.
He’s not like the average Surly’s patron, that’s for sure. Would I want him to see me dressed like this? I look down. I’m wearing a pair of frayed Daisy Dukes, bleached and cut extra low, a chunky belt, a blue denim studded bra with a matching denim jacket over the top, white cowgirl boots and a white, vintage cattle rancher cowboy hat. My wig is long and straight, a shade of light, chestnut brown.
The answer to ‘do I want Jake Walsh to see me dressed like this?’ is ‘no’. Yet a small part of me wants to say ‘yes’.
Talia’s coming off stage. She plays to the minority emo crowd, her outfit all gothic black and intricate lace. She comes down the stairs and starts pulling dollar bills from the tops of her boots and hemline of her panties, her surgically enhanced breasts still on show.
‘Hey, Ren, you alright?’
I look beyond her shoulder, my eyes still searching for him. ‘Hey,’ I mumble.
She grins and flashes a hundred-dollar bill in front of my eyes, pleased with herself. ‘Got some high rollers in town tonight. Go get ’em out there.’
‘You fellas ready for more?’ Jax’s voice goes out over the mic, and there is whooping and cheering in response.
The stage-lights alter to blues and greens.
