Page 6 of Calypso's Shield
Pain like no other takes hold of my body as I climb into bed and succumb to the darkness that follows.
3
CALYPSO
PRESENT
“Girl, you doin’ good?” Allura asks me for the hundredth time today. Once a week, she checks in like this, driving me nuts.
I swing at the bag, releasing all the pent-up anger thrumming through my body. “I’m fine.”
It’s the same answer I’ve given her the last hundred times. I stop hitting the bag and turn to her. “Why do you keep asking?”
Allura worries her bottom lip with her teeth before she answers. “I’m worried. You haven’t had a flare-up in a while, and I just want to make sure you’re not hiding it from me.”
I slump my shoulders and plop down on the mats we had installed in the gym. Allura joins me. “I’m managing the flare-ups better than I used to. Moving down here was the best thing for my health.”
Allura looks me over, and I’m uncomfortable with her scrutiny. Her sea-green eyes watch me carefully, searching for any lies. No lies this time, though.
A couple of years ago, we had some issues with another club thinking we couldn’t hold our own, and they tried to end us. They came onto our territory with their dicks swinging, thinking they would thump them on our foreheads. As the enforcer, my job was to protect the club. Things escalated from bad to worse until the Royal Bastards came and backed us up. Working side by side with them, we ended the threat and established our MC.
All the stress and drama surrounding us had me neglecting my health. I was in so much pain, but I pushed it aside until the threat was eliminated. By the time I couldn’t hide it anymore, it was so bad that I was hospitalized for a month. That’s when the rest of the Royal Harlots found out about my condition.
They’ve all been understanding and protective since finding out. Something I’ve never had before. My ex-husband never gave two shits and found ways to make my Lupus my fault. That I'd use a flare-up as attention seeking. He always found a way to turn it around and blame me for his issues, even though his issues were with drugs. He found ways to make my condition his reason for using. That’s not all he did to me, but that’s all I want to think about right now. Allura shifts next to me, bringing me back to the present before I go down that dark hole.
“Trust me, Allura. I’ll never let it get that bad again. It was a mistake on my part and not one I want to repeat.” I draw my knees up to my chest and rest my head on them.
“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” Allura stands and stretches her hands over her head. “We have a job to do tonight, so be ready.”
“What job?”
“I’m calling Church in thirty to fill the rest of the girls in, but I’ll tell you some now. We’ve got a lead from Capone abouta drug ring going down in our city. They’re preoccupied with another job and asked us to look into it.”
“It’s been quiet around here for a while. I’ll get cleaned up and changed, and I’ll be at Church in thirty.”
Allura nods her head and walks to the door, but stops before she exits. “I’m glad you’re doing better and have this under control. Let’s keep it that way.” She walks out the door, properly reaming my ass. A smile graces my face, and I stand up. I hit the bag one more time before exiting the gym.
When we first came here, we found an old building out back behind our Clubhouse and turned it into a gym. Now, all the girls use it to hone their fighting skills and stay in shape. There are weight benches, treadmills, ellipticals, and everything we need to box with, including a boxing ring in the back. We’ve used the ring for more than sparring in the past five years. Usually, when we have issues with another club member, instead of letting it fester and build, we take it to the ring. There is no ranking, so no repercussions. One of the smartest decisions we have made since moving here.
Another is the tattoo shop we opened along with a bar, a strip club, and amateur fight nights. We also run a shelter for abused women. We wanted to stay as legit as possible, and a place to help women and children who’ve either been stuck in the system, abused, or neglected. Give them a chance at a new life, a fresh start.
One of the backrooms in the Clubhouse has been turned into our Church. We soundproofed the room, and Divine installed a high-tech security system. If someone tries to bug us or hack into our systems, a silent alarm will go off and shut everything down.
I walk into Church thirty minutes later, after leaving my phone in a safe outside the door, and take my respective seat. Allura, Sloane, and Iris are already here. By the deep wrinkle in Allura’s forehead, they were deep in a heavy conversation. A fewminutes later, Divine, Rebel, and French come crashing through the door. When they see the four of us sitting here waiting, they stop messing around and take their seats. I’m sure the glare Allura was giving them helped, too.
Once the door is shut and conversations die down, Allura slams her ivory gavel, Talon, the Chaplain of the Royal Bastards MC, made her, onto the table, and Church begins. “Alright, bitches. We have a lot to discuss with little time to do it in. French, anything you need to report from the last meeting?”
French is the Royal Harlot’s Secretary. She’s a beautiful woman with a native American heritage. From her short, dark hair to her mahogany brown eyes, there’s no doubting her heritage. “No, Prez. We’re all good on my end.” French got her road name from sending a man to the hospital while wearing a pair of French heels. This woman even has specially made riding boots with French heels and diamonds encrusting the leather.
“Excellent.” Allura taps her gavel, ending French’s time and turns to Rebel. “Rebel, how are the finances?”
Rebel is our Treasurer and takes care of the money side of our Club. She came into her road name by doing things unorthodox. She’s a rebel when it comes to toeing the line between legal and illegal. There’s been some shady shit she’s done to get a job done. With her dark hair, big brown eyes and figure men can’t resist, Rebel can make any man talk just by batting her eyelashes. Rebel usually works with French on making sure everything adds up. “We lost revenue on the strip club, Harlots Harlem, last month. I have a suspicion as to how and why but will come back with a solid lead. As for our shelter, bar, and fighting ring, those are well into the black.” Rebel pulls out seven envelopes from her bag and tosses them at each of us. “There’s a little extra for helping the client last month and exposing her cheating husband.”
I lift my envelope and it weighs heavy. At least an extra grand, if not more. One business we do, but not publicly is expose cheaters and rapists. The lady who hired us had a suspicion her husband was molesting little girls and it turns out she was right. Instead of keeping the secret, she hired us and we exposed the crooked fucker and he’s now sitting in prison enjoying his own taste of the sausage he wanted to use on these kids. The woman came from a wealthy family and definitely thanked us for a job well done.
“Nice.” I tap my envelope on the table before shoving it into the inside pocket of my cut.
“Is that all?” Allura asks.
