Bed of Roses (3 page)

“I don’t believe in being late. Thank you again for seeing me.” She squared her shoulders, giving herself a false dose of confidence.

“You’re good to see, baby.” He held the door open for her, locking his eyes on her ass as she swayed in front of him.
Mmm. I might need to test out all her talents.

Rose about tripped. Did Tonto, the President of the infamous Devil Savages, just flirt with her? She wanted to jump up and down, but despite looking like a total ass, she knew there was no way her tiny lace bra would keep the girls from bouncing out the top of her shirt. The moment she stepped through the doors, her senses went on overload. The walls were painted dark, leaving the main focal point the octagon ring in the middle of the stadium. On both sides were two semi-circle rows of seats, going up into the nosebleed section. People of all shapes and sizes were around her, dressed from business suits to tiny scraps of material barely covering nipple and crotch. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes invaded her nose making her sneeze. Her little ‘achoo’ came out in a squeak, getting an amused smirk from him over his shoulder.
How the hell did he hear it over the deafening music and screams that blare from all directions?
As they entered the main room, Rose was stopped by the crowd. Tonto took her hand and stepped forward, parting them like the Red Sea. People literally stepped on top of each other to get out of his way. She knew he was intimidating, but this was ridiculous. Girls jumped out at him from every direction, offering drinks and rubbing against him like bitches in heat. If she weren’t so shell-shocked, she would have puked.

He led her to the back and up a narrow dim staircase that led into a long corridor. He unlocked the first door to their left and ushered her inside, shutting it behind them. Inside wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. The flooring had black plush carpet that worked great with the blood red walls and black leather furniture. A huge flat screen television perched on the far wall, taking up the entire space. In the corner was a desk with a door directly behind it. It was…comfortable. “Have a seat.” He waltzed over and plopped down on the couch, staring at her in wait. She jumped and scurried to the chair that sat opposite of him and sat on the edge, her body rigid and uptight. His stare lingered, penetrating her. The longer the silence dragged on, the more she seized up.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Is there something I should be doing? I didn’t see a fridge, but would you like something to drink?” He didn’t answer. His grey eyes cut straight to her soul.
Why is he not talking? What did I do wrong? Please don’t let this be one of those places that expects sexual favors. No job is worth that. I’ll just have to double up hours at the diner…maybe I can get something down at the factory. Yeah, time to go…before this gets ugly.
“Look, I’m sorry for wasting your time. I can see that I’m not qualified for the job so I’ll just be going now. Thanks again for your time.” She stood and took a step toward the door when he finally broke his monk silence.

“Sit. Here.” He pointed to the cushion next to him. The corners of his lips tilted up ever so slightly, breaking his stone-cold poker face. All of her radars went off at the same time. She had heard about people who had set up fake interviews and schemed the potential interviewees into participating in sexual acts then found it uploaded on the internet before they even got home.
Fuck to the no
. She was not going to be an amateur porn star, no matter how much money they promised. Her mother on the other hand would have jumped on the opportunity. Maybe she should pass the word…at least the woman would be helping with the bills. She kept her legs spread and was on her back most of the time anyway. Anger raged through Rose at not only the situation but her thoughts too. Had he heard about her mom? Is that why he called her in here? Fuck, her life was one huge white trash train wreck with no light at the end of the tunnel except the oncoming engine that threatened to plow her into hell. Whether it was pent up anger and hurt from the last twenty-three years of her existence or fear of never getting out and having a life, she exploded.

“Listen, I’m not sure what this is all about but I think there has been a misunderstanding. I came here for a job, not to fall on my knees and suck my way to the top. I was under the impression there was a legit position open that didn’t require me turning into one of the whores who fall at your feet. I have five kids at home that all seem to think they need food, clothing, and a roof over their head. Have a
great
night.” Sarcasm oozed from every word. A deep rumble started deep in Tonto’s chest, erupting into laughter. Not just a snicker or chuckle, but a full-out gut-clenching laugh that confused the hell out of her. Embarrassment began to set in and she shook her head, fighting tears of anger and humiliation. Before she got the door open, he stood and walked over to her, grabbing her hand.

“Rose, I have no idea what you’ve heard about me and truthfully don’t give a fuck. Now, please come sit so we can discuss the terms of your contract. I assure you, making a low-grade porn flick is not my intentions. Even a blind man can see you aren’t a porn star.”

She didn’t pull away. Why you may ask? Because the moment their touch met, her body decided to take over and melt. Right after her righteous whore speech, her body decided to jump onboard the slutty express and demand action. The irony was cruel. His blow to her ego didn’t help either. No, she wasn’t trashy porn star material…but knowing he didn’t see her as sexy enough stung like a wasp. God she was fucked up.

He led her back over to the couch and sat next to her, propping casually back in the corner. Rose knew she should apologize or back peddle but couldn’t find the words. Instead, she sat waiting for his reaction like a kid called in by the principal.

“You have five kids?” Of all the things for him to address from her little meltdown, that’s what held his interest.
Go figure
.

“God no! Well, they might as well be…I’m the one raising them.”

“Where are your parents?” His eyes were narrowed in on her, seeming truly interested. How did she answer this without blowing her chances? Hell, it couldn’t get worse than it already was.

“My dad left when we were young. Mom spends all her time hopping from one biker to the next in hopes he will be a knight in shining armor, instead of another guy looking for a quick fuck. Instead of helping, she popped out two more to feed. I’ve raised Lizzy and Matt pretty much on my own,” she sounded brass, but it was the truth. He shouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want it upfront. Rose never was one to sugarcoat stuff except to the kids. Heming and hawing around the truth never helped anything.

“I see. Who is taking care of them while you work then?” He lit a cigarette, pulling an ashtray out of a hidden compartment in the side table.

“The twins are seventeen and help when they aren’t out getting into trouble. Most of the time Ariel ends up with them unless it is a rare occasion when mom has run out of bikers and looking for another sleazy club to make her way through.” She loved her mother. It was hard to voice the truth, but in a way, it felt good to verbalize it. She lived with the reality alone day after day, always making excuses for her.
Not now
.

Once again, the little hot ass shocked him. So…she knew some on the ins and outs of club life and yet…here she was. He understood where her cattiness came from about the situation but still felt his irritation at her negativity about clubs. He blew it off, rationalizing that most of the clubs were sleazy. The Mexicans brought in drugs, which ended up in the schools. Not only was it bad that kids were getting ahold of the shit—most of the drug were bad. Kids were knocking off like flies. The Devil Savages might be mean muther fuckers, but when it came to women and children they were relentless. No one fucked with kids and got away with it. They had been intercepting deals and making false buys in an attempt to take them out from the source. A lot of the fuckers had been disposed of, but for every grave, a hundred more were needed. They were the scum of the earth.

“Main events are usually Friday and Saturday nights. That’s where the money is. We have others during the week but they don’t dish out as much. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle it…until a few minutes ago. As annoying as your little outburst was, it shows you have a backbone. You can’t take shit from anyone here. You show any weakness and they will eat you alive. Do you think you can handle it?” His expression was doubtful, which pissed her off.

Rose leaned forward, allowing the front of her shirt to dip ever so slightly. She kept her head tilted down and glanced up through her long lashes with her best seductive smile. “I can handle just about anything, Mr….” She froze. He had never given his real name, and for some odd reason she thought ‘Mr. Dark mysterious walking orgasm who rode a bike and killed people before they knew what happened’ wouldn’t quite be appropriate given she actually
wanted
the job.

“Tonto is fine, Rose. Let’s get you in uniform then. The fights start in thirty. It’ll give you time to get the rundown from the girls before announcements.” He stood and walked over to the closed door behind the desk, returning with a small stack of clothing—if that’s what you want to call it. He handed it to her with a smug look, “You can change right here.” When Rose just stared at him, he shook his head, "or in there," as he nodded toward the room he had just exited. She plastered on her game face and smiled, thanking him for the job. It wasn’t until after she got into the small room and unfolded the so-called uniform that it hit her. These outfits were smaller than the ones at the casino. A pair of fish net thigh highs, a little skirt with a matching thong and a halter top with a plunging neckline that reached her belly button. No garment tape—no bra—not even pasties. She hoped to hell the outfit was tight enough to stay in place. She was well-endowed up top and it wouldn’t take much for a total wardrobe malfunction. A knock at the door got her in gear, stripping out of her idea of a skimpy outfit and into a Band-Aid with lace. Perfect. She slipped her heels back on and walked out, with her chin high. If she looked down, there was a good possibility she would run and hide.

“What do you think about the uniform?” Tonto was taunting her like a total ass. Instead of getting mad or allowing herself to feel shame she laughed.

“It’s skimpier than my underwear.”

“Mmm. Then, darlin', you’re wearin’ the wrong kind of fuckin' underwear.” He walked up, stopped in front of her, and pushed a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She couldn’t move. One minute she couldn’t believe what a dick he was, the next she wanted to rip his clothes off and see how
big
his dick was. He turned his back and walked out, once again leaving her wondering. The ‘what the hell’ moments were beginning to stack up. With a huff she followed him down to ringside where he left her without a word. Thankfully a bouncy brunette saw her and pulled her behind the bar.

“You must be Rose! They told me you were starting tonight. So, are you an ol’ lady or just one of the club rats?”

“Excuse me?” Rose straightened up with her arms to her sides and her fists clenched, ready to throw down with the girl. The woman was small and dainty but had that naughty schoolgirl look, complete with black framed glasses and pigtails.

A look of recognition spread across her features. “Oh! Shit! I’m sorry…I just assumed…”

“You just assumed I was either a skank or an ol' lady?” Rose knew what the girl meant, and after seeing her reaction wanted to mess with her. After the interview she just had, it was best to be dishing the shit than taking it.

“No! Oh, Rose, listen…the club has different types of women who hang around. The ol' ladies are equivalent to a wife or fiancée. The club rats are—"

“Are the chicks who hang around the club for a good time, willing to do whatever or whomever in the hopes to land a spot in some sort of commitment that won’t ever come. Yeah, I know. My mother is one. I was jokin’ with you.” Rose laughed as the young girl giggled in relief.

“I’m Heaven. They said you wouldn’t be able to hang here, but you are gonna be just fine, girl. Come on, I’ll show you how to use the register and get you set up with a tray.” Heaven hooked her arm through Rose’s and led her away, chatting as if they had been friends for years.

For the next four hours, Rose delivered drinks to the rough and rowdy crowd like a pro. She had met some of the other girls who all welcomed her aboard…except for one. Krista. She was drop dead gorgeous with long blonde hair that fell to her waist. Rose had extended the friendship branch only to have the bitch slap her with it each chance she got. Gorgeous or not, the woman was a total cunt. She also seemed to take earning her tips to a whole new level. Most of the male customers got more than to cop a feel or perv on her. Krista seemed to spend more time in the bathroom or at the back of the crowd than serving. As the night went on the more Rose spotted people doing more than a little heavy petting and venturing into extreme public displays of affection. Instead of being a prude, she ignored it. In all actuality, watching the fights would get anyone hot. She turned to watch while she was waiting on the next round of drinks to be made. Two beefed up hunks dressed in nothing but trunks and covered in sweat were going punch for punch, dancing around the ring. The dark-haired one spun and did a flying round kick, dropping the other fighter to the ground. Before he could get up, the attacking fighter jumped on top of him in a full mount and assaulted with rapid fire punches. As the ref moved in to watch and stop the fight if he neglected to defend himself, the underdog twisted and turned until he flipped enough to wench the assailants arm behind his back and around in a reverse Kimura, making him tap out. The crowd went wild, and tips dumped on the girls. In twenty minutes, Rose made six hundred dollars. She couldn’t believe it. If she was able to work every weekend for a few months, the bills would be caught up, and the kitchen would be stocked with actual food and not the scraps she made edible. By the end of the night, despite her numb, throbbing feet and the grunge that coated her skin from all of the nasty fucks who ‘accidently’ rubbed up against her or copped a cheap thrill, the idea of a long hot bath was almost orgasmic, and unrealistic given there was either a turtle swimming in it or a box full of toys littering it. She sighed, giving up the farfetched dream. She would be lucky for enough hot water to wash in much less shave or relax in.
Someday.