Diamond Girl Read online

  “Is he a regular here?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that; I’ve seen him in here before, though. He just started hanging around with the others, I don’t know, maybe around last spring, I guess. The dancers here sure are crazy about him; especially Garnet. I think Diamond used to hang with the bikers before she was fired. Hell - that was probably her downfall. She started living a different life after she got involved with Slash.”

  “Who is Slash?”

  “I think his real name is Jamie. He’s one of the Outlaws; been in the club for a while. He took to the previous Diamond. He still comes in with the others sometimes. I think he is one of higher ups in the Indy club; acted like he owned her; that was her fault for letting it happen. I know he used to take her tips from her, the lazy son-of-a-bitch; then used to bruise her up nicely if he thought she was dancing too provocatively for one of the customers. That girl was in a no-win situation. Janine banned them all from here for a while. She lifted the ban once she fired Diamond. She won’t stand for any of the dancers getting involved with that bunch, though.”

  “I don’t intend to get involved with anyone,” I said to her point blankly.

  “This is the first time I’ve seen him ask for a private drink with any of the dancers, though. He might have plans for you.”

  “Please, Margo. He’s a twenty-something biker. What could he possibly want with me?”

  “Hmm, that’s a tough one, hon; it certainly couldn’t be your looks or your body. I bet it’s your money he’s after,” she said, snickering loudly. “Yeah, that must be it.”

  I gave her my version of a dirty look. I wasn’t very good at those yet. I was still learning.

  “Bikers around here are bad news, Diamond, even after hours. I don’t think you’re the type to fit in with that group. I’m no expert, but I have done enough time in clubs like this to know a little something. I don’t see you as a biker bitch; not even for someone as hot as Slate. He seems to have earned the respect of his colleagues; but I’ve heard stories how bikers treat their chicks, you know? Pass them around to their buddies; discipline them in violent ways. Of course, maybe I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know by the looks of that eye. Did a biker do that to you, hon?”

  “Of course not, Margo; give me some credit please.”

  “I’ll be glad to hon, whenever you tell me that whoever gave you that shiner is missing a gnad.”

  I lowered my eyes from her expectant gaze. Now I was not only feeling like a piece of trash, but a pitiful one at that.

  (Shit! What the hell am I doing?)

  “There, finished,” she said, spinning the chair around so that I could see the repair job.

  “Thanks Margo,” I replied, softly. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I don’t intend to let it happen again.”

  “That’s my girl,” she said, smiling for the first time at me this evening.

  CHAPTER 9

  I hadn’t seen Slate on Thursday or tonight as I worked my usual Friday shift. Some of the other bikers, along with their girlfriends had been in the club acting extremely rowdy. Janine had kicked them out for the evening after taking a bunch of shit from them. The biker chicks seemed to bring out the nastiness in the guys; their behavior was much more belligerent except with their men. They were fairly subservient to them. They would stand while their men sat; fetch their drinks, speak only when spoken to; kind of reminded me of my life with Jack only without the sex and leather.

  I had done pretty well in tips this evening; bagging $585. I had been tucking my tips away at home in a lock box. I wasn’t sure what had prompted me to do that since Jack was never home. I guess I considered it part of my secret life; the one that I had locked away from everyone else.

  I had changed into a pair of my tight, ragged jeans, pullover sweater, and leather boots. I grabbed my sweatshirt hoodie from the hook, shrugging it on over my head. I slung my shoulder bag over my arm and headed out.

  I didn’t see Vince or Ethan on the floor; the other bouncer, Jay was busy keeping some guy who was totally wasted from climbing up onto the stage where Emerald was dancing. Emerald was twenty-two years old, black and extremely petite. She had relocated from Detroit with her boyfriend, Ivan about six months ago. Ivan had lost his job at one of the automotive plants; he was currently working as a millwright at one of the factories here in Indy. I knew Emerald missed her family terribly. Margo and I had both taken to mothering her; there was something very fragile about Emerald.

  Jay seemed to have the situation well under control, finally grabbing the drunk by the scruff of his neck and escorting him out the front door. This had brought a series of booing from his cohorts that were still ogling Emerald. Jay saw me as I approached the door to leave.

  “I’ll walk you to the bus stop, Diamond.”

  “No - that’s okay, Jay, you need to stay here and keep an eye out for Emerald. I have a feeling those idiots over there are going to make it tough on her since you booted their buddy. Where are Vince and Ethan?”

  “Holy shit; there was a major fight over on the other side. Some of those bikers were roughing up their chicks; bad news those ones. I think Vince and Ethan are waiting for the cops to show.”

  “Really, I’m good,” I said, “Keep your eye out on things here, okay?”

  “Be careful, babe.” With that Jay turned his attention back to the floor; I made a swift exit out into the dark night.

  It was clear out; for late November the weather had remained above normal temperatures. It was cold and chilly, but well above freezing. There was no cloud cover so the stars lit up the night sky.

  I was nearly to the corner where the bus stopped when I heard the loud and vicious sound of a motorcycle next to me. I kept walking, looking straight ahead even as I heard the engine slow down to a not-quite-so-loud idle. Undeterred I continued on my way, finally I heard the engine shut off completely.

  (Shit! I am so not in the mood to be fucked with by a biker tonight . . .)

  I didn’t slow my pace; I ignored my peripheral vision. I finally heard a male voice call out.

  “Diamond Girl - hey! What’s your fucking hurry? Got to get home to that violent, piece of shit old man of yours?”

  I stopped and looked over into the very beautiful, totally amused blue eyes of Slate. He was removing his helmet, shaking his hair free. I noticed then that he had a pierced ear; it was totally sexy.

  I glanced over at him impassively, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Maybe I am. You wouldn’t want to hold me up now and make him mad if I miss this bus. It’s the last one.”

  “So you’re telling me that the rat bastard doesn’t even bother picking you up? You ride a freakin’ bus home?”

  “Who’s to say he isn’t watching our three kids?”

  I saw a slow grin spread across his handsome face as he contemplated what I said. His muscular arms were crossed in front of him. His leather jacket couldn’t hide the fact that he was totally buff.

  “Naww,” he said with a grin, “That body of yours doesn’t look like it’s been through child birth, baby. It’s way too firm; way too slender. It does have a way of making a guy want to plant his seed, though, I give you that.”

  (Oh wow . . . my cheeks were burning.)

  “So, how about it, Diamond Girl?”

  “How about what?” I tried to make my husky voice sound icy cold. I wasn’t sure that I was pulling it off.

  “You want to carry my baby?”

  “Maybe later,” I answered dryly, continuing to walk towards the corner.

  Slate was rolling his motorcycle along side of me in the street next to the curb.

  “Hop on,” he said, “I got an extra helmet strapped on.”

  “Isn’t that for your biker bitch?”

  “That position hasn’t been filled yet. Are you applying?”

  “I’ll pass,” I replied, “One asshole in my life is quite enough.”

  I heard him laugh genuinely; he had a nice laugh. It
was sexy, like everything else about him. I looked over at him and noticed for the first time he had a dimple when he smiled widely; just one more thing identified in his sexy attribute inventory.

  “Come on,” he urged, “I can take you anywhere you want to go. You don’t need to take a bus with all of those perverted freaks riding around on them this time of night.”

  I stopped and turned to face him.

  “I think I’ll take my chances with the perverted freaks on the bus rather than the ones on motorcycles this evening, thank you very much, Mr. Slate.”

  “It’s just Slate, baby,” he said with a chuckle. “I presume your name is something other than ‘Diamond’. What shall I call you?”

  “Mrs. Diamond,” I answered as the bus pulled over to the curb and I stepped aboard. I heard Slate’s gorgeous laugh as the door to the bus closed behind me.

  I took my seat and watched out the window as Slate put his helmet on and revved his motorcycle back to life. He turned it around and headed back from the direction he had come from. I was thoughtful as I watched him disappear. He didn’t seem like a typical biker - not that I had all that much knowledge or experience with them. Still there was something powerful about him, yet not frightening or repulsive. His grooming was different. He had the five o’clock shadow thing going, the longer unkempt hair, the pierced ear, but yet there wasn’t anything disgusting about his build or grooming. His teeth looked well taken care of and incredibly white and straight; no tobacco stains or missing teeth.

  There I had gone again with my stereotypical thinking. I’m sure he had his own opinion of dancers. He probably thought I was a ‘clap-trap’; an easy piece of ass that had been had by many until my abusive husband took me in where I waited on him hand and foot and looked forward to his occasional attention if nothing more than a slap across my cheek to let me know I was his possession. Yeah, I got it. We both had a lot to learn.

  The ride to the Park and Ride went quickly as I entertained myself with thoughts of Slate; I thought of his beautiful blue eyes; his sensuous lips and how they might feel on mine; his hands on me. I actually was getting moist down there thinking about him!

  (What in God’s name is my problem?)

  I departed the bus, digging for my keys in my purse as I passed the attendant station. I gave my usual wave to the attendant as I passed. I hit the remote to unlock my car and opened the door, ready to climb inside and head for home. I was exhausted. Right before I closed the door of the car I heard the sound of a very loud motorcycle as it peeled out from the curb across the street from the Park and Ride.

  Something about the sound of the bike’s engine caused me to shiver and wonder if it was him.

  CHAPTER 10

  Thanksgiving Day was like any other day for me this year. I nuked a turkey and dressing Lean Cuisine, eating it in front of the television; while I watched the Thanksgiving Day parade. I had talked to Brenda earlier on the phone. She had wanted me to come to their house for Thanksgiving dinner but the truth was, I didn’t want to pig out on turkey and making small talk with Brenda’s family all afternoon. I had to work my Thursday shift at Jewels tonight; I certainly didn’t want to go there gassy.

  I hadn’t seen Slate in the club on Tuesday when I worked; of course, none of the other bikers had been in either. I mentally kicked myself in the ass for finding myself looking for him when I was on stage. I needed to heed Margo’s advice and keep clear; Janine wouldn’t tolerate it at the club, and I certainly was not cut off for the type of life being involved with a biker would provide. Aside from that, the very obvious reason was because I was married. I didn’t need to cloud the issue of dealing with that by forcing some idiotic distraction to get into the way.

  I had purchased a new dance outfit for tonight. It was a white opaque unitard that had long sleeves and a plunging neckline; I had gold, sparkly four inch spiked heels, and a white feather plume intertwined into the mass of blond hair piled loosely on top of my head. There was something extremely classy about my outfit tonight. Even Margo made a comment as she put the finishing touches on my make-up and gold glitter how stunning I looked.

  Secretly inside, very deeply inside, I hoped that Slate would be in this evening. I mean, what else did bikers have to do on Thanksgiving?

  “Looks to me like you’re trying to impress someone special tonight, chica. I don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is.” Her tone was slightly admonishing.

  “Margo, sometimes you act way older than your years. You do realize you and I are about the same age, right?”

  “I don’t give a damn; you are still a ‘babe in the woods’ - girls look after girls. That’s just the way it is here.”

  “I will be fine. I just want to class it up a bit tonight. It is a holiday. Wait until you see my Christmas costume.”

  “Diamond, you are a rarity around here. I hope you know that.”

  “Is that a good thing?” I asked, giving her a sly grin.

  “Absolutely, chica. Hey, I think they’re calling your number, sweetie.”

  I had selected my first number for my shift. It was ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ by Motley Crue. I had worked out a perfect dance to it and had practiced all week long. I took the stage as the chords of the song started the upbeat.

  On my third twirl as I climbed the pole to execute my first upside down descent, I saw him. He was alone at the bar. For whatever reason, the flame-haired Garnet was sitting next to him, sipping a drink.

  (What the hell? Had he bought her a drink?)

  They seemed to be in a deep conversation; he barely noticed me as I continued my routine, eyeing them both whenever my dance allowed me to look that way. When my number was over, I flounced off the stage, ripping the feather from my upswept hairdo.

  “What did I miss?” Margo asked; her expression clearly puzzled. “Did you slip? Land on your ass out there?”

  “No nothing like that; not much of an audience out there. Isn’t Garnet on the clock tonight?”

  “No, her shift was earlier. She switched with Emerald; said she had a hot date.”

  “I see,” I said, seething. I wasn’t sure why the hell it bothered me. Slate and I were nothing to each other; he most likely fucked a different woman on a daily basis. Why did it have to be Garnet, though? She was such a bitch.

  I went to my locker and got another outfit out for my next dance which wasn’t for another forty-five minutes. It was much skimpier; pure glittery trash in red. I chose red because that was one color Garnet couldn’t wear with that hair color of hers. Perhaps it would be enough to distract Slate from his attentive conversation with Garnet. I was actually counting the minutes until it was my turn to go back out on the stage. I still had another thirty.

  I was in the dressing room as Emerald was preparing to go out next. She looked so sexy in her black fishnet body stocking with built in bikini crotch less panties and pasties covering her nipples.

  “When are you out?” I asked her.

  “Right after Ruby, who is out there now.”

  “Which stage is next?”

  “Center,” she replied.

  That was the horseshoe bar where I had spotted Slate with Garnet.

  “Want me to take a dance for you?” I asked Emerald.

  “I could use a longer break,” she admitted. “I am so freaking premenstrual. I hope like hell I don’t start tonight. These outfits can’t even hide a tampon,” she remarked, laughing.

  “It’s settled then,” I replied, smiling. “You take it easy. I’ve got this one covered.”

  “Thanks, Diamond. I owe you,” she replied.

  She ran out and told the announcer that I was switching dancing order with her so that I would be announced when the next song played.

  A couple of minutes later I was announced to center stage to the tune of Whitesnake’s, ‘Here I go Again.’ How fitting I thought to myself as I took the stage and the pole. The beat was awesome to display many of the moves and additional gymnastics I had added to my repertoir
e. I made sure I strutted my stuff right in front of Slate who was still sitting next to Garnet, though I clearly had his attention now. I preened about like a peacock in front of him; her displeasure was obvious as I ascended the pole and spun and twirled like she wished she could.

  ‘Just another heart in need of rescue; waiting on love’s sweet charity; and I’m gonna hold on for the rest of my days,‘Cos I know what it means; to walk along the lonely street of dreams . . .’

  This song tugged at my heart; at my pride. It said all of the things that I felt inside of me and had for so very long. My dancing was my means of getting it out there; dealing with it in a healthy way. I lost myself to the music and the lyrics. As the song ended, I wrapped myself around the pole and slid downward, allowing myself to segue into the splits right in front of where Slate was sitting, his eyes not moving from me.

  I saw the hateful look that Garnet was directing my way; it didn’t faze me a bit. I raised my head up to look directly into Slate’s sapphire blue eyes and I saw something there as well. It was indistinguishable but somehow I felt that he got it. He got me. I wasn’t someone to be toyed with and he understood.

  I rose up from my floor position and left the stage amongst the loud applause, wolf whistles and male shout outs. This had been one of my best performances; it was all about the song. It was all about Slate. I truly didn’t know why.

  I returned to the dressing room and quickly went to my locker. This was my last set for the night. I wanted to get into my street clothes and get the hell home. I changed into a pair of jeans and a hoodie, trading my four inch heels for a pair of brown leather boots.

  I told Janine I would collect my tips tomorrow night when I worked. She was fine with it.

  “Is everything alright, Diamond?” She had that motherly look of concern on her face.

  “Yeah, everything’s good. It’s just hard you know with both Lindsey and Jack gone. It’s kind of lonely I guess.”