Page 12 of Tormented
“No, thank you,” I answer with a tight jaw. “I’ve got this under control.”
“You better,” she says with narrowed eyes. “We don’t need you running off in tears because somebody spilled their drink, now, do we?”
“As if that’d happen,” I murmur. Although now she mentions it, the irrational fear that I might snap right when it’s busiest takes hold and squeezes my lungs.
“Just remember, the men won’t be so patient with you if they run out of alcohol. Bad things can happen fast when everyone’s distracted at a gathering like this. Especially to a girl who’s teased them for far too long being the only one who’s off-limits.” She makes a show of looking me up and down, her nose wrinkled.
“Of course. You would know what happens to girls who tease, wouldn’t you?” I say with a raised eyebrow, hinting at her past being used and abused as a club whore.
She stares me down, and sighs. “What happens when King runs out of things for you to do, Abbey? Then what? You haven’t got a proper education. You sure as hell don’t have any job skills.” Her smug smirk grows. “Maybe you should give in. Accept it. If you want to stay here, then your future is lying on your back, taking what you’re given. Not as though anyone would want you as an ol’ lady, now, is it?”
I lean both elbows on the bar and get in close. “Believe it or not, I have skills that they need around here. If something happened to Fingers, who do you think would be able to fix and maintain their bikes? Huh? Not all of us have to rely on the fact we’re a woman to be of any use to the club.”
“You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, don’t you,” she sneers. “You might have King wrapped around your crazy little finger, but the rest of us aren’t so blind. We see your pathetic act for what it is.” She steps away, hesitating and turning to say over her shoulder, “Don’t fuck things up tonight. It’s important to King that everything runs smoothly so the men are in the right frame of mind for their meeting tomorrow.”
“Isn’t me you’ve got to worry about causing trouble tonight.”
She storms off to point out where the trestle tables need to be set up, ripping into some poor prospect when he starts to unfold one in the wrong spot.
I look down at where my palms rest on the top of the bar, hands shaking. She’s got no fucking idea what goes on behind closed doors. An act. As though I’d put myself through this hell all in the name of keeping a spot in a fucking MC clubhouse.
The sooner tonight is over and she fucks off back to the hole she crawled out of, the better.