Page 37 of Broken Warrior
Damn. Definitely don’t have Legos there.
“No. Don’t need places like that when you’re in an MC.” I force my eyes open and look at the cracks in his ceiling. “Pussy is free at the clubhouse.” Not that we have a clubhouse right now. Nor do I want any free pussy. Just one and I bet it’s priceless.
“Yeah but those ones don’t look like these pussies. This place is awesome. My girlfriend is a cage dancer, hopes to move to the stage at some point. It’s real classy, man. High quality tits, mostly real. Girls are knockouts and real talented. Cool vibe and expensive booze.”
I scrub a hand over my face as I start to even out. “Why would I want to go to a strip club with my dope dealer?”
Bugs chuckles. “Other than the fact that it sounds like a movie plot? Cause you seem like you could use it.”
“I’m fine. Just gonna go home.” And jerk off violently to the image of Tate walking around my house with bedhead in nothing but one of those baggy t-shirts. “Do a bunch of drugs then pass out until you call with the rest of my shit.”
He frowns. “Dude. Not a good plan. You should come with. They have this new girl, Cordelia, and she is smoking hot, but it’s how she strips that makes her even hotter.”
Why won’t he shut the fuck up?
Probably because I’m still sitting on his couch and can’t get off of it fast enough.
“I’m not interested man,” I sigh. “I just—“
“The Angel of Death.”
My eyes snap to his. “What?”
Bugs nods with another toothy grin. “Cordelia, the Angel of Death. She’s so fucking hot, dude, but that’s her gimmick. Dark hair, black lipstick, dresses like a dominatrix, and has fucking black angel wings.Sohot.”
Apparently I’m being tortured in ways I didn’t even know were possible.
My drug dealer wants to be besties and hang out at a strip club so he can show me thisAngel of Death, a dark angel just likem’eudail.
Fuck.
And I’m gonna fucking do it.
Maybe it’ll get Tate out of my system.
Highly unlikely, but it’s possible.
“How much to get in?”
“Fuck yeah!” Bugs claps his hands and rubs them together. “Cover is seventy-five most of the time, but it’s Wednesday so they charge fifty—hump day special. Try to bring a bigger crowd midweek.”
I push up off the couch and shake out my arms. “These girls better be worth it.”
“They are.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle, taps about six pills into his hand then holds it out to me. “Full nudity, dude. Tits and nips. Pussy. Ass. Everything is on display while they shake their money makers. Cameras everywhere so no sex on site but they do lap dances and champagne rooms so you could probably get a low-key handjob or get close enough to the girl you like for the night and set something up.”
Yep. Adderall.
Fuck it.
I know how dangerous it is to mix uppers and downers. I do it quite a bit considering I’m a dope fiend, but it takes a lot to fuck me up so six of these and two lines won’t make a dent. Might just make me a little more human for an hour or two.
And since I’m not looking to hook up with some stripper, the fact that I’m stoned and can’t get hard without thinking of a certain dark angel, it won’t create any awkwardness for me at this strip club. I’m sure the girls would appreciate at least one dude not walking around with a huge boner, ready to bang at the drop of a dime.
“Alright, man.” I pat my pockets and make sure I have everything, pull out a G, and give it to Bugs in exchange for the bag he’s offering. “I’ll check this place out but don’t get any ideas. We aren’t gonna be doing this on a regular basis, just consider it your number one customer showing some support for your most recent endeavor.”
* * *
Twenty minuteslater I’m paying some big ass army-looking fuck fifty bucks to get into a relatively nondescript building that looks more like a warehouse than a strip club.
