Page 15 of In Too Deep

“Fuck! Shit!” I curse, stubbing my toe on the corner of a chair in Blake’s room. I told him to get rid of that ridiculous-looking armchair, but he says it’s a place to throw his clothes on.

I must admit, other than holding his clothes, the chair should be thrown in the bin. It’s ripped in the center, exposing foam coming out from the cushion. The arms on it, which used to be a light tan color, are now black. Most likely from all the grease on his clothes.

Knowing I don’t have much time, I quickly search the bedroom, trying to locate my panties that Blake threw somewhere in this room.

Where the fuck did he put them?

“Babe, is that you?” Blake calls out with a croaky voice. I have no idea how he’s conscious at all, considering how much he partied with the rest of the boys last night.

“Shush,” I whisper in a panic, moving closer to the bed where Blake is sleeping naked on top of his sheets. He’s one of the younger club members.

My eyes travel down the length of his body. He’s not too bad-looking, although he could use some exercise to get rid of that beer gut, but other than that, he is masculine, with a black beard and eyes. He’s tall, muscular, and has a cock on him that knows how to please a woman.

Blake is in the Royal Bastards MC and has been here for three years. If my father got wind that I was fucking with one of his men, Blake would be a dead man.

He’s told me I can date and fuck who I want as long as it’s not one of the members. But it’s not that easy to obey. I’ve lived here since I was a kid, and all I know are these men. I don’t go outmuch, so where else am I supposed to meet men? At school? I don’t think so.

Being a student didn’t work out for me. I was always in fights with the girls, even boys, who tried to get away by pinching my butt. I was always in the principal’s office being yelled at or given warnings. Until one day, I accidentally lit the science room on fire. I didn’t know that mixing sodium with metal and adding water could cause a fire.

In my opinion, it was an accident. Mrs. Helmes never explained that you can’t mix those together.

But they wouldn’t listen to me and all agreed I had done it on purpose. So, they called my dad into the school and explained that they were going to expel me, meaning I had to go to another school. That would be three different schools in the last four years.

My dad was pissed and yelled at Principal Portland, causing him to retract his expulsion. He said he was willing to give me one last try, but my father just got up from his chair and yelled, throwing everything from the principal’s desk to the floor. Explaining that there was no way in hell his bright daughter was going to go to this school. Principal Portland threatened to call the police, but my dad just laughed at him, knowing that the police wouldn’t even come if they found out it was the RBMC.

I walked out of school thinking how lucky I was to have a father who stuck up for me, but that was short-lived when he told me that my new job was going to be working at the clubhouse behind the bar. Any father wouldn’t want their daughter living in a clubhouse, let alone working behind the bar, but my dad wasn’t like other fathers. He was the president of the Royal Bastards MC, and he didn’t care what other people thought or did. This is how he wanted me to live, and I had no other choice in life.

After my first shift, I almost begged my dad to let me go back to school. However, I was too proud to beg for anything, so I continued to work each night at the clubhouse, having no life other than a barmaid.

The Royal Bastards are a rough crew. They always have been, and my dad is one of the roughest. The only member I found myself liking was Blake, and that’s because he was the only one who didn’t scare the shit out of me and was younger compared to the others.

I was lonely and didn’t have many friends other than Pete from the gym, who I kept in touch with. He is a great friend and had his own apartment not far from the clubhouse. My father knows he’s gay, so when I’d sleep there, he doesn’t ask any questions, even though he said I could sleep with whoever I wanted.

Each night, when I’d go to sleep, I’d make sure I locked my door, too scared that one of the MC members would come into my room. Even though they knew I was off-limits, I could never trust them. Most of the time, they were drunk or high, and I couldn’t take any chances.

Blake and I have managed to hide whatever we are for five months, which suits me just fine. I don’t want any relationship with him, but it’s nice to know I have someone to crawl in bed with when I feel like it. It makes those lonely nights bearable.

If my father finds out, he will kill Blake with no questions asked. In Blake’s defense, I did throw myself at him and took advantage of his drunk state. There are only so many times he can try to kick me out of his room before he gives in, especially when I undress and play with myself.

Love is what it’s not—I will never fall in love with anyone. It’s not in the cards for me. My plan is to work here until I save enough money to get the hell out of Toronto and make a life for myself somewhere where no one knows my father or me. MaybeI’ll travel to Europe and visit France—a place that’s on my bucket list. Yes, I can imagine myself living there for a while, enjoying French food and French men.

Blake is just a distraction for me to get through these long days and nights until I finally get the hell away from here. I’ve always been told I’m beautiful and could model. Maybe I should do that and make some extra money so I can get out of here quicker.

About six months ago, a man walked up to me in the local grocery store with a business card, asking if I had ever considered modeling. At first, I thought he was just trying to get in my pants, but when I called his number the day after, a receptionist answered and knew all about me.

So, I went to the office to talk about what opportunities they had for me, and I was surprised to see how professional the building was. Images of models I see in magazines and commercials cover the walls, and the lady who spoke to me on the phone offered me tea or coffee while I met with Bill, the agent who approached me.

We looked at portfolios of women Bill had represented, and I even recognized some of them. This was like a dream come true, something girls have dreams about.

Bill explained that I would get some professional photos taken so I would have a portfolio of my own. Then Bill would take care of the rest.

I’ve always been told I’m beautiful, with green eyes the color of emeralds and long, black, wavy hair that reaches my lower back, but I never thought I was model material.

I’m not exactly what you call skinny. I am tall, though, with long legs. However, I have hips, a narrow waist, and full breasts. Bill spoke about getting me on television because he thought I had the face for it. But my dream was short-lived. I never got a chance to have any photos taken because when my dad gotwind of it, he shut that down quickly. He said no daughter of his was going to be on television and that the only reason Bill approached me in the first place was because he knew who my father was and was probably working with the RCMP.

My father can be an asshole sometimes and paranoid as hell. He thinks everything that happens in this world is all because they want to bring his club down. I know he tries to be a good father, and being an only parent is hard, but I wish he could have wanted better for me, encouraged me to do better, and not be caught up in his world. Living in the clubhouse means I’ve seen things no child or woman should have to.

Some days, when he’s not drunk or high, I can see the man my mom fell in love with. My mom was nineteen when she met my dad, and he was thirty-five. As my dad tells it, she was a backpacker traveling around North America, hitchhiking to get from one place to the next. My dad saw her hitchhiking on the side of the road and pulled over to offer her a ride. It was apparently love at first sight.

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