Thank you for your continued interest and support. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Reaper's Legacy.
MERCEDES CONT'D
We trooped into the house, and I rummaged through Sam's kitchen cupboards until I found two big mixing bowls, which we used to clean the table with hot water.
Then we flopped back in the chairs and Marley made herself useful for once...asking the question that had been eating at me all night.
"So, you really a virgin?"
"Mostly," Mel said, rolling her eyes.
"Oooh, mostly," Marley said, leaning forward, practically quivering with curiosity. "We'll get back to that in a minute. Now tell me what's up with the V-card. How old are you, anyway?"
"I'm twenty-two," Mel said. She didn't seem to mind the questions at all. And clearly, Marley wasn't the only one with boundary issues. "And I'm a virgin because I haven't wanted to just do it with some random guy to get it over with. But every non-random guy I meet is scared of my dad. To be fair, he really is scary. My sister stands up to him, but it seems like I never can. Now I'm stuck at home, while she's loving life in Olympia. She's my little sister...still can't figure out how that happened."
"Have you always lived at home?" Marley asked, her eyes wide with something like horror. "No wonder you're a virgin!"
"No, I've lived in Seattle for my first semester of college," Mel explained. "But I didn't really know what I wanted to be, and as soon as word about my dad got out, the guys stayed away from me. It didn't help that he showed up at my dorm one day and made a public announcement, that any guy who tried to get me naked would lose his dick."
"Holy shit!" I muttered, eyes wide.
Marley swallowed.
"That's hard-core," she admitted.
Mel rolled her eyes again and threw up her hands in disgust.
"That's my dad. My mom used to keep him under control, but she's been gone for a while now. Plus, he's the club president, so it's not like there's anyone to stand up to him."
"What about this Sketcher guy?" I asked.
Mel groaned and dropped her head to the table, banging it dramatically.
"Sketcher," she said. "Sketcher is a pain in my ass. He was a Collectors prospect until a few months ago. But he's got his patch now. And he seems to like me. He's flirted with me. But he'll scare off other guys who come around me, yet when I tried to jump his bones in the dark he ran away like a freaking chicken. Every. Single. Time."
Marley shook her head knowingly.
"Yup, he's scared of daddy," she said. "Lost cause, babe. You need to find someone else."
"Yeah, I know," Mel said, her voice wistful. "I could kind of understand it back when he was a prospect, so I'd cut him some slack. Prospecting's hard work. But he's got his colors now. He needed to put up or shut up...so that's over."
"Damned straight!" Marley said, banging her fist down on the deck table. The whole thing rattled and we all jumped a little. "Let's go to Spokane next weekend, the three of us. The way I see it, Meg, Marge, and Spirit have to rat you out, because they're part of the club. But me and Mercedes? We're free agents. Let's get your card punched with someone disposable, and then work on finding you a man who's not a fucking pussy. This Sketcher guy is full of shit."
"Actually, I've been talking to someone online," Mel admitted, flushing a little. "I really like him. A lot. We've been chatting for a couple months, but we just started calling each other sometimes. I'm pretty into him, but I kept hoping Sketcher..."
"Screw Sketcher!" Marley declared. "He's not a real man. Maybe your online guy isn't either, but we've got your back. See if he's available next week. Let's get this thing done. We'll meet up in a public place and get our own hotel rooms, so we can make sure you're safe."
Mel's eyes grew bright. The whole idea seemed sort of halfcocked to me, and I frowned.
"Okay..." she said. "Wow! I can't believe we're going to do this. But what about Mercedes? I don't think Wringer would want her going out like that."
Suddenly, I didn't care how stupid it sounded. Wringer wasn't in charge. Fuck him! Nothing quite like flaming shots to give a girl courage.
"I'm in," I declared. "He doesn't tell me what to do."
"Seriously?" Mel asked, peering at me in the darkness. "We'd really just go out and do this?"
"Why not? Sam is not my boss. And Marley needs to get out sometimes, too. We'll check this guy out and make a call for you about whether he's worthy. There's always more guys if he's not. Trust me, if Marley can't find you a man, he doesn't exist. She's like a sexual bloodhound. Always has been."
"Damned straight!" Marley said without a trace of embarrassment. "I'll ask Ryder if he can watch Bray for you, Merce. He owes me. He gets to play poker every single week. And when I was pregnant, I told him that if I had to be sober, he should be sober, too. He totally ignored me. Also, he bought me a minivan. A fucking minivan! What kind of man does that to a woman?"
I started giggling. Mel joined me, and then all three of us were laughing...
And I'm still not entirely sure why.
We were still cackling like drunken hyenas when Marge, Spirit, and Meg got back.
They looked funny in my clothes, particularly Spirit, who was way too tall, although she was more than a little curvy.
She'd found some yoga pants and an old T-shirt, both of which were extremely tight in critical areas.
"Sledge is going to love this," she said, twirling for us and shaking her ass dramatically. "If he's home tonight. Anyone know the schedule?"
"The party's tonight for the brothers coming in," Marge said. "I guess some kind of big club meeting is going down? Stud will be here in about an hour to give us rides home. Oh, me and Meg are throwing together breakfast tomorrow...just in case anyone wants to help. They've already lined up a pig to roast for the afternoon, so all we need to worry about is snacks and sides."
"I can do a Costco run in the morning," Spirit said. "Mel, wanna come with?"
"Sure," she said. "Dad said they'll be done with church around four. You can come out anytime after that, Mercedes."
"Church?" I asked, startled. And Spirit snickered.
"That's what they call their meetings," she told me. "No idea why, it's just always been that way as long as anyone can remember. It's nothing to do with us, though...the club business. So don't worry about that. Your job is to have fun at the party."
"I'm not sure I'm going to the party," I said, losing some of my bravado. "After Sam's little tantrum, I think it might be better if I stayed home."
"Not happening!" Spirit said firmly. "Whatever's between you two...and don't think we've forgotten, that conversation was interrupted just when it was getting interesting...needs to be resolved. Otherwise, you'll kill each other at this rate. Going to the party is perfect."
"Why?"
"Because he'll either lose his shit or he won't," she replied. "I mean, some guy is going to talk to you at some point. And if Wringer loses it, we'll see some action and you'll get things figured out. If he doesn't, you're off the hook and life can get back to normal. Either way, we'll be there to watch it all. And in the end, it's really all about us, right?"
"Um, this may shock you, but Sam can be scary," I said. "I don't want him losing his shit. It's happened before and it wasn't nice."
"It'll be okay," Meg assured me. "These things work out at the Armory, no worries there. Maybe a good fight will clear his head."
"I agree," Marge said. "Get it out in the open. If you're in front of the club, he'll have to claim you as his property or let you go. That's how it works."
"You don't find it even a little bit creepy to be called property?" I asked. They all burst out laughing again.
"It's a different world, Mercedes," Marge said finally. "Trust me, I get how weird it sounds. When Stud first asked me to be his property, I dumped his ass. I didn't get it back then. It was like their own language. To bikers, being property means you're important, special. Being an old lady is an honor and they treat it with huge respect."
"Here's what I wonder," Marley broke in. "I know a little about club life from working at Top Shot, but I've never figured this one out. If your whole identity depends on your relationship to a man, isn't that a little messed up?"
Pretty good question.
"Maybe," Spirit admitted. "But I'm not too worried about it. My identity is all my own. Always has been, always will be. It's true that the club is for men and they usually call the shots when they're playing with their friends. At home, though? Not so much. If Sledge pisses me off, I'm not suffering from a shortage of ways to make him pay."
I pondered that for a beat...
"Like what?"
Spirit smirked and raised a knowing brow.
"You really have to ask? Even the virgin girlie gets that."
"Shut up!" Mel groaned. "Don't you ever get tired of discussing my sex life?"
"No," the Collector women chorused. And we all burst out laughing yet again.
"Here's the thing...it's up to you to decide what works and what's a deal breaker," Meg said when the fit of giggles died down. "You have to lay it out for Wringer, Mercedes. Either he's on board or not. But the most important part is that you stick to your guns. If it's a deal breaker, you're done with him. Do whatever it takes to draw the line. I'm serious. You may have to find somewhere else to live if that happens, but don't let him convince you there aren't options. There's always options."
"No, what she really needs to do is screw him and dump his ass," Mel said, shivering with delicious glee. "He's hot, she should just nail him. Is he any good, Marley?"
"Don't you dare," I warned my friend, holding up a hand to her face. "Mouth. Shut."
"Wait a minute! Party planning aside, we're forgetting an important part of why we're here," Marge said suddenly. She turned to me. "I can't believe we haven't talked about work, Mercedes. Sex is just way more interesting, but has Wringer mentioned a job?"
"No," I said, more than ready for a change of subject. "I'm going to start looking on Monday. He said something about working for the club, but it seems a little weird to bring it up after this morning."
"I manage a coffee shop for a friend," Marge told me. Meg, Mel, and Dancer sobered, exchanging glances I couldn't quite read. "I could really use some help in the mornings, if you have a way to get Bray to school. And you'd be done by the afternoon when he gets home."
"Uh...I can look into it," I said, wondering if my neighbor would help get Bray on the bus for me. Or maybe they had one of those morning drop-off programs...
"I think she should be a stripper at Top Shot," Marley piped up. And Marge's eyes widened.
"No way," she said, her distaste visible. "That place is disgusting."
"It's a good way to earn money," Marley insisted. "Perfect for a single mom. She could work two nights a week and be with Bray every day. How is that a bad thing?"
"Duh...the part where she sucks some stranger's dick?" Marge asked. "I'll bet Wringer would just looove that."
"What?" I demanded. "I thought we were talking about dancing. No sucking dicks. Deal breaker!"
"We are talking about dancing," Marley said, rolling her eyes. "Nobody makes you work the VIP rooms. It's totally your choice. Or you could be a waitress. They don't make as much money, but they still do pretty well. Especially if you're nice to the dancers. They'll tip you if you treat them right."
"You do not want to work there," Marge insisted. "Seriously, most of those girls are whores. I'm not talking about you, Marley, but the rest of them? You can't trust that place for shit."
"No, I was a whore," Marley announced blithely. "If by whore you mean I got guys off for money. Mostly hand jobs, but if he'd pay enough I'd go down on him. Now I own a gorgeous house, I have a degree, and I even started a college fund for my kid. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
We all looked at her.
"Oh, seriously?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "You girls live in a fucking motorcycle gang. You really think you should judge me?"
"Club," Mel said. "It's a motorcycle club. Being part of a club isn't a crime, you know."
"Whatever," Marley replied, waving her hand. "I own my body. It's totally mine. And what I do with it is my business. I danced for guys, I touched them sometimes, and they gave me lots of money. How many women get groped every day by strangers? At least I got paid up front for it. I'd do it again, and I think Mercedes should, too, if she really wants to provide for her son."
"No way," I said, shaking my head.
"Working at Top Shot isn't a bad idea," Meg said, surprising me. "I tended bar there and did pretty well. That's how I met Blade."
"And did anyone bother you?" I asked. She shook her head.
"It's a controlled environment," she said. "Nobody gets in without security knowing. They keep an eye on everything. Even in the VIP rooms, security's always right outside the door. I was probably safer there than I am at home."
"Did you...I can't think of a better way to ask this, so I guess I'll just spit it out. Did you have to walk around naked?"
"No," she said, smirking. "Servers at Top Shot are like furniture from IKEA. Okay to look at, but not what you want to draw attention to. I wore a black bustier, a short black skirt, and dark tights. And blended right in."
"That doesn't sound too bad," I said.
Marge scowled and shook her head, but Meg grinned at me.
"I'll introduce you to the manager tomorrow," she said. "He'll be at the party. And you're coming...no negotiation. If you don't figure things out with Wringer, maybe you'll come home with a job."
Okay, this is the end of girls' night. Sam's side is coming later along with the party.
Stay safe!