The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(33)

“Little help here, man,” Bobby moans.

I crack a peanut and watch the two guys holding Bobby while the bald one punches him again. Yeah, I should help him, and any other time I would. I would make sure all three of these *s lost their teeth. But seeing how Bobby’s a traitor and I haven’t actually plotted my revenge on him, this will do.

I cock a smile and toss a peanut in.

“Should have had my back with Dani. What you did wasn’t the brotherly thing to do; touching what wasn’t yours, brother,” I sneer.

The guy throws another punch to Bobby’s stomach before the two hounds let go of his elbows, letting him fall to his knees.

“Pay up!” one of them yells, placing his hand out palm up in Bobby’s face.

Bobby coughs and grabs his wallet in his back pocket, pulling free a few twenties and tossing them onto the floor. The bald guy grabs the cash and stuffs it in his pocket before stalking out of the bar.

“What the f*ck, man?” Bobby asks, sliding onto the bar stool slowly, holding his stomach and coughing as he takes a small sip from his beer.

“You deserved it,” I shrug.

“You owe me sixty dollars,” he says, holding his midsection in pain.

I turn and look at Bobby. His mouth is split and bleeding and he’s hunched over, grabbing his stomach. It makes me smile to see him in such pain.





I WAKE UP ALONE this morning. I spent the whole day with Shadow yesterday. Laid up in the apartment, we sat around munching on food and watching TV. I found out he’s ticklish under his armpits, and in return he found out I’m ticklish everywhere. It was nice to not think about the weight of the club or our trust issues. It was just us and nothing on the outside interfering with that. Today, I went grocery shopping? and I stopped by the dance studio to see the older girls audition for Swan Lake.

I walk into the apartment as the sun begins to set, hoping to see Shadow, but it’s empty. I pop some popcorn and plop on the couch to paint my toes. After surfing the channels and coming up with nothing, I turn it off, bored out of my mind. My phone vibrates on the counter, catching my attention, and I pick it up without looking at the caller ID. Right now, I would talk to a sales person I’m so bored.

“Hey, girlie!” Cherry chirps on the other end of the line.

“Uh, hey,” I respond, surprised to receive a call from her.

“You doing anything tonight? Me and a couple of the girls are going to a club where my brother is DJing.”

“That sounds great,” I reply, excited.

“Great, we’ll be there soon,” she says, hanging up the phone.

I clap my hands in eagerness and run off toward the bedroom, heading to the closet and grabbing a black, strapless number which falls mid-thigh. It’s sexy and provocative, and I can’t wait to wear it. I throw my hair up into a loose up-do; apply a smoky eye shadow, light lip gloss, and a spritz of perfume to top it off. There’s knocking at the door as I’m putting on some black heels; my sore feet don’t even seem to mind the squeeze.

“Wow, you look hot!” Cherry says, eyeing me as I open the door. She’s wearing a purple dress shorter than mine which ties behind her neck, and her eye shadow matching it. She’s also wearing her property patch over her dress, which makes her look fierce. I follow her down to the parking lot as she hops into a red Bug. When I climb into the passenger side, Babs and Molly are sitting in the back smiling at me.

“Hey, girl,” Babs smiles.

“I didn’t expect you for a club-hopper,” I joke at Babs.

“Ugh, Locks’ has been gone for days, I’m bored as hell,” she replies, rolling her eyes.

Cherry speeds off from the curb, making the girls in the back squeal. She bobs and weaves in and out of traffic. How she got her license I don’t know; she had to have worn something like she’s wearing now because the girl is death on wheels. We pull up to a building shining in bright gold lighting around the doors.

“The Rogue?” I question, reading the club’s sign.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be the big thing right now,” Cherry answers, getting out of the car.

“My brother Tyler is ecstatic to DJ here,” she continues, twisting her face in humor. “It’s not all bad. We get free drinks and get in free.” She points to a line of people waiting to get in.

We walk up to the bouncer, who is wearing a black suit, his head shaved. He’s huge and looks like someone you would see playing professional football or wrestling.

“Name?” the bouncer asks, looking at the crowd. He doesn’t even glance at the girls and me. He doesn’t have a clipboard or anything; he must have the guest list memorized.

“Name is Cherry. I’m with Twistin Tyler,” she yells, the music blaring from the club doors making it hard to talk over.

He looks away from the club and eyes us up.

“You going to let us in or what?” Cherry sasses, placing her hand on her hip. The brawny bouncer moves to the side, opening a path to the doors, which lead into the thumping club.

“Dick,” she says, passing him.

“Yo, take over for me.” The bouncer yells at a guy wearing a matching black suit, he looks just as intimidating.

Walking into the club, it’s crazy, like nothing I have ever seen before. There are balconies with sheer curtains for private parties and booths surrounding the walls with gold lamps sitting on the tables. The lighting is dim, except colors of gold from spotlights above swirling around the people on the dance floor. A large bar sits next to the DJ station at the far end of the club, and my eyes go wide at what’s sitting on the bar. It has a silver cage resting on top with a girl in a shiny, gold bikini dancing in it.