Perversion (Perversion Trilogy #1)(30)

“Pops,” I start calmly, “It’s a good business, and it’s a high profit business. Sandy already ran the numbers. We’re not going into this blind.”

“We’re not going into this at all,” Belly growls, his shoulders shaking with renewed anger. “I can’t believe you agree with this, Grim. Thought you were the voice of reason in this fucking house.”

“I do agree with it. It was my idea.” And it’s a damn good one.

“Bell, it’s alright. Hear him out,” Marci suggests. “Then, do what your gut tells you. Like you always do. They’ve taken a lot on their shoulders since you’ve been out of commission, and they’ve done a great job. They deserve to be heard.”

“You, of all people, can’t really be okay with this shit?” Belly asks, turning to her with a surprised look on his face.

Marci looks to me and then back at Belly. “Grim ran it by me. It’ll be a good place. A profitable one that’s safe. Clean. Respectful.”

“I never thought I’d hear you agree with this. Not after…” Belly doesn’t finish. He shakes his head and looks down at his hands.

Marci leans forward and whispers something in his ear. Whatever she says causes his shoulders to relax. He turns over his hand and wraps it around Marci’s, intertwining their fingers.

Marci clears her throat. “When I met Belly, I was a kid. Fifteen. It was at a party at the clubhouse of another MC. I was a runaway. Some bikers had offered to give me a ride, and they took me right to their clubhouse.”

Now, it’s Belly’s turn to give Marci’s hand a reassuring squeeze. I can already sense where her story is going, and I feel my own face reddening with anger.

“It was a long, long time ago. In another town. In another life. A horrible life, but without being there, I wouldn’t have met Belly. He spotted me on a ride up from his own club. Saw that I was too young and that I didn’t belong there. Not only that, but also that I didn’t want to be there. But I was desperate and had nowhere else to go. So, I did what I was told for a roof over my head and food in my stomach.”

“She was just a fucking kid,” Belly spits out, not as content to brush the entire thing off as destiny. “The club who found her promised her a ride and some shelter. What they did was pump her full of dope and pimp her out, gifting her to other clubs like she was a bottle of fucking whiskey, or to anyone who had a couple of bucks.”

Belly takes a small sip of his own special whiskey. Shit called Velvet Matador. I tried it once, and it was like drinking lighter fluid that was already on fire. He was the only one in the house who touched the stuff. But at least, he didn’t have to worry about us getting into his liquor.

“But you came along, like a knight in dented up armor,” Marci says with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “You took me home with you. Told me I didn’t have to do anything for a roof over my head and food in my stomach. I fell in love with you that very day. And the rest is history.”

“If only I could have gotten there sooner,” Belly says, placing his other hand over hers.

Marci shakes her head. “No, Bell. You got there just in time.” She plants a kiss on his cheek. “Hear the boys out, babe. Their plan is good. Solid. You should be proud.”

“I really thought you’d be against all this,” Belly says again. The way they talk to one another makes me feel like they’re the only two people in the room, and the three of us are intruding.

Marci sighs. “I am very much against young girls being forced to sell themselves against their will. However, I’m a feminist at heart. That means I’m all for women making their own decision to make money in any way they choose. If they want to sell their pussies, it’s their right. Besides, we are talking about prostitution, not trafficking. These girls will get paid. Get regular health checks.”

“We’ve already got a doc on the reservation lined up,” I add.

Belly turns to me and nods, giving me the go ahead to continue.

I lean my elbows onto the table and fold my hands. “As Sandy said, I already talked to the chief. He’s been looking to try and pull in some younger clientele. The blue hairs are great and all, but they’re careful. Too careful. They’re on fixed incomes. They budget. When they’ve lost their allotted amount, they’re out. Younger men, on the other hand, have more disposable income. They’re reckless.”

I glance up to make sure Belly’s still with me. He is.

“A… whore house,” I say, pausing when Belly growls. I correct myself and start again. “A brothel, gentleman’s club, or whatever you want to call it, will be another reason to bring in a younger crowd. A different breed of gambler. It will be a place to send them when they need a break from gambling without having them leave the reservation because offering them a free buffet ain’t gonna cut it. The chief will cover costs for anyone he sends by minus his cut. With those types of clients, plus regulars looking for higher quality than what’s out there on the streets, it’s a win-win.”

Belly looks to Marci who smiles at me proudly from across the table.

Haze chimes in. “There’s a building out there they used to run swamp tours from before the land dried up. It’s attached to the main building by a covered walkway. We’ll fix it up. We’ll manage the place, and the chief gets ten percent.”