What Doesn't Destroy Us (The Devil's Dust #1)(79)

I reach under the counter, pull out a garbage bag and start picking up trash.

“What the f*ck are you doing?” Shadow demands.

“Someone has to clean this up.” I answer as I pick up an empty pizza box.

“No, he’s cleaning this shit up.” Shadow walks over and rips the trash bag from my hands. “He must be at the club, let’s head over there. I’m sure Babs will need your help and the whole gang should be there. Tonight is the bike show,” he says, eyeing the apartment.

He looks over at me, “You think you can ride with your ribs all messed up?”

I look down at what I’m wearing; a shiny, gold sequined top that falls mid-thigh with black leggings and gold sandals. Not exactly something I would pick to wear for bike riding, but I've missed that feeling of freedom and I don't care to change.

“Yes, my ribs are fine!” I say excitedly.

“Good, I miss my bike,” he says, grabbing two helmets off the couch.

We head downstairs and get on his bike. Within minutes we are hitting the highway. The sun’s shining and the wind is warm. I should have grabbed my leather jacket for after the sun goes down, but I haven’t been able to find it since before our trip. I hope I left it at the clubhouse.

Shadow curves his arm behind him to rest his hand on my thigh. My body screams alive at his claim.

When we pull up, the courtyard is nothing but a sea of bikes, more than usual. Shadow backs his bike into its usual spot and helps me off. There's loud music blaring from the clubhouse, kids running around with a basketball, and the smell of BBQ in the air.

“What is all this?” I ask. Did we miss the bike show?

“Looks like a pre-party before the after party,” Shadow says, smiling. “This party is more family oriented, the after won’t be.”

He takes my helmet, looks me over and frowns.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, it’s just you need a property patch. You look available, like a sweetbutt, and I don’t want to have to beat another brother's ass for looking at you.” He runs his hands through his hair.

“A sweetbutt?” I'm totally confused.

“Yeah, like a club whore,” he says, seriously.

“Did you just call me a whore?” Now I'm offended. My mouth is gaping open like an idiot.

“No, I said you look like one.”

“That’s much better!” I say, sarcastically. I can’t believe he just said I look like a whore.

“Shadow! Welcome back, brother,” Bobby says, walking toward us from the house. He has a blond girl laced to his side who is wearing a tiny black skirt and a too small black tank top. You can see her hot pink bra covering more of her tits than the tank. She tops it off with fake jewelry and slutty pink heels.

“You look pissed,” Bobby says to me.

“Sorry, that tends to happen when I'm called a whore,” I say, looking off in the distance.

Bobby looks at Shadow with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not like that; I said she looks like a sweetbutt.” Shadow sounds irritated.

Bobby laughs. “You look stunning as usual, Dani,” he says and gets a glare from his arm candy.

“I think what Shadow’s trying to say is, you’re not wearing a cut. You’re not patched in. Meaning you don’t appear to be claimed, so you look like free reign. Girls who wear cuts that say they are property are not f*cked with. You don’t have one, so you look like a sweetbutt.”

He points toward a woman standing a little ways off. “See her? Her cut says Property of Tank. Nobody will try to sleep or f*ck with her unless they want the entire club up their ass. She’s an Ol' Lady.“

Then he points to the girl on his arm. “She doesn’t have a cut, so men will be all over her looking for a good time. Most likely she will give it to them. She’s a sweetbutt.”

The girl slaps Bobby’s shoulder in disgust. “You’re a dick,” she says and angrily walks off.

Bobby shrugs. “Sad thing is, she’ll be sucking my dick before the night's over.” He smiles smugly.

Bobby smacks Shadow's back. “Good luck, man.” He starts to walk off before turning back, “I almost forgot, now that you're back, Bull's wanting to hold church.”

“I would have explained it, but you got all offended and freaked the f*ck out before I could,” Shadow says, grabbing my hand and walking me toward the club.

As we get closer, I see more of the Ol’ Ladies and their cuts claiming who they belong to. Why don’t I have one; I’m Shadow's Ol' Lady, right? Do I even want one? Shadow telling me I’m his behind closed doors is one thing, but to tell the whole world I'm property to be claimed seems a little f*cked up.

When we walk into the clubhouse, I smell less BBQ and more cigarettes, cheap perfume, and booze. I can barely hear myself think over the loud music blaring and I'm squeezing Shadow's hand so tight I can feel my heartbeat pulsing through my fingertips.

Shadow leans down close to my ear and still has to yell, “I got church. Go into the kitchen and help Babs. Don’t leave without her to go anywhere.” I nod my head and start toward the kitchen. Then he pulls me back by my elbow, halting me. “I mean it, don’t leave without her.”

I nod again and head off to the kitchen. When I enter, there are a handful of women wearing cuts with property patches. They're laughing about something, but stop abruptly when they see me.