Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(63)
God. God f*cking damn it.
“Back inside, mama.” One of the newer prospects named Tray stopped me from going any further, his shiny bald head gleaming. “Only three of us here to watch the old ladies, and we're gonna do our jobs to the dotted f*cking line.”
I'm not really an old lady. Stopping just short of saying it, I turned with a sigh, and went inside.
The clubhouse was insanely quiet with the men gone. Meg, Cora, and several strippers from their club sat at the bar. The dancers all pouted, probably disgusted that they'd been thrown into the club's protection for the evening, when they could've been out on the floor, earning.
“Hey, girl,” Meg said softly.
I took a seat next to her without saying anything, reaching across the counter for a fresh beer. The men had barely touched a lot of the bottles and cans left behind.
Meg watched me pop the brew open and take a long drink. It was nice to have something harder with tea, something to warm me. Not that it had a prayer of melting the glacier welling up inside me since my little boy disappeared in that park.
“Drink up while you can!” Cora said cheerfully, smiling, lifting a glass of some amber liquid. “I'm stuck with apple juice until after this baby comes out.”
Meg shot her a tense look. “She's going through some crap. I'd say she needs it. None of the brothers have heard from Joker since he stormed out a few hours ago...”
My fingers tensed against the can, hard enough to leave several metallic dimples. Like I needed any reminder.
Over in the corner, a couple strippers squeaked, laughing at some stupid joke between them. God, it was dead and different here without the men around. Especially without mine.
“I've already been through it,” I said to Cora quietly. “One kid, I mean. Haven't been doing a lot of drinking since my uncle's bar shut down years ago, before I got pregnant. He'd been teaching me to make drinks before it all went to shit.”
Meg sat up, cocking her head, taking a swig off her mixed drink. “Ah, you know the Heel could use a relief bartender sometime in the next month or two? We definitely need one before the holidays roll in, and the tips are great. Men don't think twice about throwing extra at their drinks when they're already dropping bundles on the girls.”
I drained the can halfway before I answered, letting the fizzy alcohol wind through my stomach. “Not planning on staying here a day longer than I really have to. I mean, the way things are going, doubt I'll have much reason to.”
The old ladies looked at me, their smiles disappearing. If it was suddenly awkward enough to choke a mule, well, I'd made it that way, and I didn't f*cking care.
Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut before he went away? I wished so badly I could've taken it all back.
“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind,” Meg said matter-of-factly, flicking her brown locks over her shoulder.
“I'm sorry, Summer,” Cora said, leaning toward me from behind her. “I shouldn't have rubbed it in. The baby, I mean. I wasn't thinking. You must be worried sick about him...”
Didn't know if she meant Alex or Joker. I wasn't going to ask.
“Don't worry about it,” I snapped, even though part of me wanted her worry. “It's out of my hands now. Same as mama dying one day at a time, same as losing our house, same as Uncle Robby's bar going down. I'm used to taking punches. Never being able to hit back.”
“There's always a way to fight,” Meg said, staring me down. “I was a prisoner once, before Skin saved me. Did more disgusting things than I ever want to think about. Cora here next to me, her daddy took his life. The club helped her big time, saved her from some really awful men, just like the ones all the boys are out there fighting, right now.”
“It can't be that simple,” I said, trying not to let my anger take hold.
“It is. First thing's first, you've got to be honest with yourself.”
I snorted, polishing off my beer in another gulp. “What the hell does that mean?”
Meg hesitated, turning on her stool, until we were completely level. “Means I see a woman in front of me telling herself a lot of lies. Refusing to forgive. Hell, refusing to let herself even cry.” Meg took a pull from her drink while my mouth dropped open, ready to lay into her, but I held my tongue. “It doesn't do you a lick of good to hold it all in. You're hurting. You think you hate him. You're afraid you're never going to see your son again, or his father, and there won't be a chance to sort all this out. I get it. I've been there.”
“You don't know shit,” I lied. Who the hell did she think she was, and where had she gotten the ability to read a stranger's mind?
“You're wrong about that. We both do,” Cora said, eyeballing me with the same stark pity in her big blue eyes.
“I'm not asking for miracles,” Meg said, reaching for my hand. “All I'm asking you to do is be true to yourself. We both know you can't do that unless you quit fighting it, bottling it up. Let yourself breathe.”
Damn her. Even the whores across the bar were watching us now, whispering to each other. I knew I looked like I was about to explode, and give his clubhouse one more drag out fight to soil its walls forever.
“I was a total * before he left,” I said slowly, facing them like my own private jury. “I blamed him. Told Joker it was all his fault for losing Alex, for dragging me into this, for breaking my f*cking heart when I thought I'd just gotten it back in one piece.”