Page 53 of Matrix

“Be ready to leave at quarter to ten,” Scar says.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss while we’re all here?” Vapor asks.

“No.”

“Nope.”

“The girls made jambalaya. It’s in the kitchen. Feel free to eat up before you go,” Vapor says before adjourning the meeting.

I’m dreading going upstairs and lying to Daisy. With each step, my feet seem to turn into lead. By the time I arrive at our bedroom door, my heart’s beating a mile a minute. I can’t lie to her. It wouldn’t be right. Telling her what’s really going on is the only way to avoid a guilty conscience. I’ll have to convince her that I’m going for club business, nothing else, which is the truth.

I open the door and walk in to find her sleeping. Well, that solves that problem. I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s probably wiped out from the ride since she’s not used to being on a bike for so long. Waking her up to piss her off isn’t a good idea. Besides, I’ll be back before she even realizes I’m gone. Problem solved.

Backing out, I softly close the door behind me. I find Talon down in the living room sitting between two club girls. His hair’s still wet from a shower, and he smells less like ass and more like magnolias. It’s a huge improvement.

I sit in a recliner off to one side. They’re watching a ridiculous show about a bachelor dating a bunch of women at once. It’s so dumb that I can’t help but be sucked into it. An hour later, I’m on Team Amber. I don’t even know the chick, but I’m rooting for her to get the final rose.

“It’s time to roll,” Reaper says, interrupting the show.

“No. He’s about to talk to Brittany and crush her soul,” Talon says.

“He’s going to pick Amber for sure,” I say in agreement.

“Why choose?” Reaper asks. “They’re both hot pieces of ass.”

“You’re crude,” one of the club girls says. She scowls at him until he growls. Quickly looking away, she lets out a disgruntled huff.

Talon and I stall by taking our sweet time pulling out the keys to our bikes. I continue to buy time by pointing out that we can’t wear our cuts to the club.

“I fucking knew it.” I fist pump as Amber gets the final red rose.

“He picked the right one,” Talon says.

“You guys are so fucked up.” Reaper shakes his head as he walks out and fires up his bike. Talon and I laugh as we get ready to ride.

The trip to the club only takes ten minutes. It’s situated in the middle of the French Quarter. A scantily clad girl and a hype man stand outside, trying to lure people in. He doesn’t have to work hard to hook us. After all, we look like three drunk guys out on the town looking for pussy. We’re his target market.

Inside, the club is full of other guys, and women in barely-there outfits flit from patron to patron, trying to score lap dances. Some of the ladies sit in their mark’s lap while making their pitch. It’s been a long time since I stepped foot in one of these places, but I immediately know why I stopped going. The scent of lust and desperation fills the air. The women are experts at teasing, but they don’t actually fuck the men. At least, most of them don’t. All a guy can hope for is a cock tease and a lonely, solo hand job when he gets home. Oh, and an empty wallet.

“Let’s sit at the bar. We’ll be the most visible there,” Talon says.

“Shit, did you bring the money?” I ask.

“I did. You dumbasses were too busy hanging out with the club girls.” Reaper pulls stacks of twenties out of his pockets and hands them to us. “Don’t blow it all before one a.m.”

“Yes, Dad,” Talon says.

“Is he really your dad, baby? He doesn’t look that old,” a stripper coos as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“He thinks he is.” Talon laughs.

“Want a dance?”

“Not yet … but find me later.”

“What about your friends?” She turns her attention to Reaper and me. “You boys looking to have some fun?”

“Just killing time before going to a jazz bar. He’s the one who wanted to come in here.” I jerk my head toward Talon.

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