The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(87)
The creases on Alex’s forehead remain, but the agitation in his eyes dims a little. “Did you have somewhere specific in mind?”
“Yes, actually. I’ve seen where you live, Alex, but I still haven’t seen where you work. I want you to take me to the Rock.”
“Uhh...I don’t know, Argento. The Rock isn't exactly an ideal spot for date night. It's… There's…” He's grasping at words, clearly trying to find a way to explain that his workplace is a den of iniquity worthy of biblical renown.
“I’ve lived here my whole life, Alex. I hear plenty of things. I know what the Rock is. I’ve always been curious about what goes on behind those heavy wooden doors, and now I have a handsome boyfriend who works there to sneak me in unnoticed. Come on, don’t you think it’ll be fun?”
Alex considers. He stares off into the dark forest that borders the Raleigh High parking lot. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He’s going to say no. He’s—
“All right. But just because it’s the middle of the afternoon, doesn’t mean anything at the Rock. It’s a shit fight no matter what time of day it is. If you’re ready for some incredibly loud music and lots of drunk people, and you’re okay with the fact that you’re gonna come face to face with a fuck load of strippers…then sure. I’ll take you.”
The imposing, looming double doors of the Rock are infamous in Raleigh. You can see them, the burning torches mounted on either side of the thick, weathered wood, from up on the road that takes you out of town toward Iron Springs. Besides the Rock, there's nothing of note between Raleigh and the coast. If you're seen pulling off of that long, winding road through Grays Harbor County, it's pretty damn obvious where you're going, and there are plenty of people in a small town like Raleigh who'd love to judge you for it, should they just so happen to recognize your license plates.
There's no one around to see us peeling away from the road, though, as Alex steers the bike down a narrow, darkened driveway, the boughs of the trees forming a sinister looking tunnel over our heads, blocking out what's left of the weak afternoon sun. Loud, thumping, grinding music reaches my ears before the building's even in sight. And then, there it is, a single story, squat looking structure, constructed out of stone and rough-hewn rock, massive and quite possibly the ugliest building I've ever seen.
Alex navigates a path through the haphazardly parked vehicles in front of the bar, going around the side of the building, where he pulls into a narrow bay reserved for staff only. I feel so alive as I climb off the back of the bike, humming from the excitement of the ride. Alex takes the helmet from me, grinning. “I really have created a monster, haven’t I?”
I nod, grinning back. “Looks that way. I’ve been thinking about using the money I was saving to fix up the Nova to buy my own deathtrap now.”
“Uhh, the Nova’s gonna need some TLC real soon by the sounds of that engine,” Alex says, poking me in the side. “Maybe you should make do with borrowing my bike instead.”
“You’d let me borrow your bike?” The fake-surprised teasing in my voice makes him smile.
“You’re already holding my damn heart and my soul hostage, Argento. You might as well take everything else.”
These things slip out of his mouth so effortlessly, like they're so easy to confess. Most guys his age would rather bite off their own tongues than admit they felt any emotional tie to a girl. Alex, of all people, who is so stony and withdrawn from the world most of the time, has no problem admitting whatever he's feeling to me, though. There's a surprise around every corner with Alex. I still have to pinch myself whenever he looks down at me, and I see the longing his eyes, like I'm something of value, to be treasured, to be adored.
“My dad told me this place was commissioned by one of the scientists who worked on the U.S. nuclear program during the Second World War. He was paranoid, so he had this place built. It was designed to survive the fall out if Seattle were ever hit by a nuke dropped by the Nazis. Does it really have an underground bunker?”
He tells you that you own his heart and soul, and you start talking about the fucking Nazis. Way to go, Silver.
“Yeah,” he replies, chuckling under his breath. “But trust me. You don’t want to go down there.”
“Why? Are you nervous, bringing me here?”
He takes me by the hand. Laughing, he leads me toward an emergency exit at the rear of the building that’s been propped open with half a brick. “You don’t want to go down there because it’s a sex club, Argento. And no. Why would I be nervous?”
Sex club? Lord. I do my best to hide my surprise at that revelation. “Because this is where I find out how many strippers you’ve fucked?” I’m only half serious, half joking, but it has occurred to me—Alex might only be seventeen, but he easily looks twenty-one. Not to mention the fact that he’s hot as hell. There’s no way he hasn’t been involved with the women who dance here.
“I haven't fucked any of the strippers, Silver,” he says ruefully. “Most of the girls who dance are also available for extra services. Private services. And I don’t sleep with girls who fuck for a living. I respect their choices, it’s their decision to make, but I also respect my dick. I don’t want it to fall off.”