Jax was not kidding when he said he's never home, literally since the day I move in and now, two months later I probably have seen him a handful of times. It's great, kind of like having my own house. My own house with the occasional handsome visitor, one who still leaves me speechless. Ugh. But he's gone once again, left this morning without so much as a wave. See you next month, blonde God.
For me, much of my time is now spent downtown at some dingy bar, trying, pleading, begging them for any type of work to no avail. Just many hangovers. I'm trying to work on that one, but hey, I'm a work in progress.
I'm clad only in a pair of panties and an oversized black t-shirt, standing on the edge of the counter desperately trying to reach for the peanut butter that is for some unknown reason is literally on the top shelf when I hear the front door slam. "Shit." I mumble under my breath as I hear footsteps coming towards the kitchen. I turn around on the counter, grabbing desperately at the bottom of my shirt as I hear a small chuckle coming from the hall way.
"I knew I put the peanut butter up there for a reason." He leans against the door frame, snickering up at me. "Do you usually walk around the house like that?"
My cheeks flush red as I make a lame attempt to hop down from the counter graciously. "No, I'm sorry. It won't happen again, it's just I wasn't expecting you and I was so hungry and..." I'm blabbering.
"Hey, it's fine." He steps forward, passing me with a swagger I've never seen before. He leans up, pushing my body into the cabinet grabbing the peanut butter jar for me. "My trip got canceled." He shrugged, placing the jar on the counter beside me. I can't help but feel his eyes on me, when I turn to look at him though his mind is elsewhere, and he's moved away, digging through his pile of mail.
I take the opportunity to zip out of there, leaving the peanut butter behind. I dart into my room where I spend the remainder of the day, silently dying of embarrassment. That is until I hear a quiet knock on my door, "Ate you decent?" Jax calls.
"As I'll ever be." I holler, hearing the door handle twist. He enters my room slowly, leaving the door open behind him.
"I see you discovered the meaning of clothes." He smiled, flashing a toothy grin at me.
"Unfortunately." We both laugh, "so, what's up?"
"I have a proposition for you." When I go to interrupt him he hushes me, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. I curl my legs to my chest, the fabric of my leggings rubbing slightly at my cheek. " I know you've been looking for work, any luck?" He pauses, allowing me to shake my head. "I have a business opportunity for you, take it or leave it, I won't be offended." He continues, crossing his arms over his chest. When I don't speak, he continues. Quickly explaining to me that he's apart of a motorcycle club, which sounds more like a cult to me, but I listen. "Getting to the point, I'm looking for some help around the place. I need a bartender, one that listens. If you so happen to hear something odd, just let me know. I think we've got some straying members but I can't put my finger on it. The gig would pay 10 dollars an hour, plus any tips you might get, and I'd slash your rent in half. It'd be four nights a week, starting tonight."
"Okay." I say quickly, not even thinking about it. "I think I can do that." I run a hand through my hair nervously, "What exactly do you need me to find out?"
"Nothing unparticular, just have an open mind and report back to me if you hear anything fishy." He smiled at me, offering his hand to shake once again, "now, I will let you know. These guys are kind of pigs, this isn't for the faint of heart, darling."
"What should I wear?"
"Whatever you want, but the girls normally wear some flashy shit. The more showing, the better tips." he gets up from the bed, "Be ready in an hour, I'll drive." He doesn't bother looking at me, instead walks away, the door closing behind him.
The next hour is spent vigorously scrubbing and prodding at my body, applying and reapplying make up, along with half of my wardrobe making its way to the floor. I finally settle on a pair of distressed denim jeans, ripped in all the right places, including just under one of my ass cheeks. Thank god for squats. I'm wearing a black halter top, low cut in the front and hardly there in the back. This should work. My makeup is on point, pin up style with a splash of color on my lips, my hair down loosely, straightened.
"I'm ready." I call, exactly fifty five minutes later. Jax has changed too, wearing a blue flannel under what I have learned to be called a kutte, denim jeans hugging his God like body.
"You'll definitely fit the part." He grins, looking at me from head to toe. Whatever that means. "Let's go."
When we go outside, he passed both of our cars, going casually to his motorcycle. "Are you sure about this?" I call after, tapping my boot against the ground, I'm suddenly thankful I went for my knee high riding boots instead of sandals.
"What, you've never rode before?" He sits, straddling the bike. God, he's a god. I shake my head, unable to speak as he hands me a helmet, "Just sit down behind me." I do as I'm told, feeling slightly nervous. "You're gonna have to sit closer than that." I scoot closer, my front hugging the leather of his kutte. "I need you to wrap your arms around me."
"Are you sure?" He doesn't answer, instead pulls them for me around him, resting my hands low on his stomach. I can't help but sigh when he does so, suddenly feeling more nervous. He revs the engine, slowly backing up, causing me to hold onto him tighter.
"This is my first time." I finally mumble, gripping on for dear life.
"It's my pleasure, darlin." He turns his head slightly to grin at me before backing out into the road. In what feels like seconds we are off, my arms gripping his middle for dear life.
At the light he moves one of his hands over mine, pulling them down to his buckle. "Grip on this, you're killing my ribs." I feel my cheeks turn a hot red, I'm thankful he can't see me. I do as I'm told though, firmly holding it. I'm trying desperately to ignore the fact that his, you know, is right near my hand.
As we pull to a stop in what appears to be more of a compound/shop then some sort of club I can't help but hold onto Jax tighter. He turns the bike off, his helmet going with it. "You can let go now." He grins, putting his hand over mine pulling them lightly off of him. I feel my cheeks turning red once again, ugh.
"Sorry." I grumble, Smooth Rae. I try as graciously as I can to dismantle his bike, my legs feeling like complete jello. As I look around I can't help but be intimidated, women wearing even less than me hanging off the arms of men that resemble Jax in someway.
I don't even realize we are inside until Jax tugs on my hand, causing me to come back to reality. "A little overwhelming, I know." He chuckles, dropping my arm. "But fairly simple gig, this is the bar. Beers are in here, liquor is up there. We don't do froufrou drinks so nothing to worry about there, you can drink as much as you want as long as you can serve drinks while doing so. Clean up is not your responsibility, that's what they're here for." He points to a few women, barely clothed and on the laps of much older bikers. "You'll work till two, after that they can take over and the rest of your time here is yours, if you want to go home just let me know. Either I'll take you or one of the prospects."
"What's a prospect?"
"Never mind that, isn't for you to worry about. Any problems though, find me. Okay?"
"Okay." I try to sound enthusiastic, but as he walks away I can't help but feel overwhelmed.
The next few hours are pretty steady, I meet a lot of people. Most of them are kind, however, the women are not. So catty, like I'm after your old ass man. I must be wearing disappointment on my face because I hear from across the bar, "Don't mind them, they're just pissed you showed up with Prince Charming."
He's cute, in an odd sort of way. His haircut which looks to me like some sort of attempt at a Mohawk, with tattoos on the side of his head. He has this sad sort of look about him, one that I can't quite place. Maybe it's the amount of drinks I've had but I find myself talking to him, "Prince Charming?"
"Jax." He smiles, much different then the smug grin Jax has. Sexier even. There is just something mysterious about him. I can read through those tired eyes, I know he struggles with the same demons I do.
"Oh." I chuckle, raising an eyebrow, offering him a shot of tequila.
"Only if you take one too." I nod, pouring one from the bottle. We cheers, clinking the glasses down on the counter, the cheap tequila burning as it goes down my throat. "So, why aren't you off with one of those?" I point at what I have learned to be called, croweaters.
"Not my thing, they're crawling with STD's." He thumbs the neck of his bottle of beer. I can't help but notice how tired the handsome nameless man across from me is.
"You want some coffee?" I offer, not even sure where I could find a coffee pot.
"Nah, I'm good. Thanks. I've got my own pick me up." He pulls out a little tin jar, "What time is your shift over?"
I look down at my cellphone, 2:20am. "Its actually been over for the last twenty minutes."
"Follow me." Now, usually I wouldn't and I don't even know what's in that little container of his but I find myself curious and nodding at him. I know I shouldn't be doing this. As I look around I can't help but notice how everyone is so oblivious to each other, there are people practically going at it by the pool tables, others openly smoking joints. This reminds me more of a house party then a club. I guess, I really had the wrong idea about this place.
He pulls me by the arm into a small room, it appears like a college dorm - only grungier. "What's your name?"
"Rae. What's yours?"
"What kinda name is Rae? I'm Juice."
"What kind of name is Juice?" I raise an eyebrow, staring at him. He lets go of my arm, taking a seat.
"Touche." He smiles, walking over to the empty desk. He quickly opens his tin, pouring what looks to me like cocaine out on the counter. "You ever speedballed before?"
"No." I lie, only ever hearing the term loosely with my parents. "I don't shoot anything though." At least through them, I picked up that much.
"No worries, me either, Girl." He smiles, laying two separate piles of like substances on the counter. He then divides them by two again. I can't help but feel a nervous sensation run through my veins and into my gut. What the fuck am I doing? And why do I want to do it so bad? I guess that's the drug addict in me. I follow his lead, taking one line and then the other, feeling a familiar mix of up and down. My whole body is vibrating, my mind racing but falling away all in one motion. I hardly even notice when he puts a hand on the small of my back, pulling me closer as I turn towards him. "You're so sexy." He mumbles, burrowing his head into my neck. Usually, my first response would be to pull away but as he presses his lips against my bare neck, I can't help but moan. This is my payment to him, I'll never change.
It literally feels like I'm on fire, my head rolls back as he pushes me into the counter, raising my legs so they wrap around him. He kisses up and down my neck, to my jaw, and then to my lips, his hands bracing my bottom. "Are you sure this okay?" I whisper, moaning quietly again.
"Don't worry, girl." He speaks low, pulling back from me slightly.
He gave me what feels like my first fix. I can't help but give into him. He kisses me, leaning us further back onto the table. His hands move under my shirt, ripping it off of me in an instant. What comes next I'm not exactly proud of but it happened. Over and over again.
When I finally come to, my legs are in the air, braced over Juice's shoulder as he pumps into me for the umpteenth time this evening. We are a sweaty mess, of cum - both his and mine - and drug fueled lust. I don't even realize my name is being called until the dorm room door slams open against the wall. It's Jax and he's pissed.
"Get the fuck off of her." He calls, slamming the door shut behind him. "She's only fucking nineteen." He throws him off of me and into the wall, I look over to him and to Juice, attempting to cover myself with the cheap bed sheet. "Get dressed, Rae." He demands, not even looking at me. I make a lame attempt in getting up, my legs feeling something like jello when I stand. "Are you a fucking moron, getting a little girl all doped up? What if she fucking died?"
"Off it, Jax. Nobody made her do anything she didn't want to do." His voice is off, slurring as he speaks to Jax. The sight would be funny in any other situation. I can't help but want to defend myself but when I open my mouth nothing comes out.
I barely have my jeans on when I feel Jax's body against mine, helping me into my shirt. I didn't even notice I was shaking until that very moment. "Lets get you home, Darlin'." My head rolls back as he picks me up, not even bothering to grab my shoes. "We'll get those later."
When we get outside the cold crisp air hits me like a brick, I pat Jax's shoulders. "Down." He drops me in an instant, his arms still hoisting themselves around my waist. I throw myself forward attempting to throw up but nothing comes. I feel myself falling to my knees, Jax coming with me.
He rubs my back, "It's okay, Rae. Let it all out." He holds me tighter, rubbing my messy hair. "Juice is a fucking junkie, I knew it. He's exactly who I wanted you to keep an eye on." He kisses my temple, in what feels more like a fatherly gesture than anything. "You did good, don't you worry. It's all gonna be okay. This won't happen again." Tears are rolling down my face now and don't stop until we get home. He runs a shower for me, but when my legs give in as he attempts to strip me of my jeans he sighs.
"Help." I whisper, attempting to brace myself against the counter space. I finally throw up into the toilet, Jax's hand resting on my back as I let it all go. He even helps me brush my teeth, when I notice we're both messy with my vomit. Great Rae, just fucking great. "I need help, Jax."
"It's okay, don't worry." He strips me from my shirt and then my jeans, leaving me only in my soiled panties. Usually I would be embarrassed, but I can barely move let alone think. He places me in the shower, letting go of me slowly. I sit with my knees to my chest, bracing the wall as the water pounds down on me. I watch as he strips himself of his clothes, leaving his boxers on and joins me, sitting behind me. He rubs my hair, my shoulders, my sore thighs, everywhere that I need - avoiding my core. I am thankful he isn't a pervert, and that he just holds me as I convulse against him. I lean forward, heaving as he rubs my back.
"I'm sorry." I whisper.
"It's okay, my ex-wife was a junkie too. I can help you. It's okay." His knees rest against mine, leaning forward with me. I can feel his bearded chin against my shoulder, holding me around my middle.
"I never want to do that again. I promised myself I'd never do that again." I whisper, leaning my head against the tile.
"Its okay, shhh." He whispers back, "I'm going to take care of you." I look back at him for a moment, trying to take him in. He looks so open, searching my eyes as well. "It's all going to be okay."
"I trust you." and in that moment I do, maybe I'm naive but I believe him. He might just be the one who saves me.