Page 17 of Stella
Of course, Cash remains stoic at the head; he of all people knows how to handle strong and — some may say — difficult women. Deanna is one of those strong and difficult women, and she’s fantastic. Kinda like a big sister who’s always looking out for everyone and doesn’t take any crap. Before she came along, Cash was kinda drifting into old age without even really realizing it, not that I’d say that out loud, fifty-two isn’tthatold, but I think Deanna keeps him young, or on his toes, one of the two. He’s also mellowed a lot since they got together, don’t get me wrong, he still has his scary moments when he goes all alpha and shit, but he’s all about this club and keeping everyone protected. Being one of my dad’s best friends, I respect him.
“And when you’re done with these,” Manny goes on. “I’ve got some chocolate chip cookies in the oven that are almost done.”
“This is exactly why I have to work out three times a day,” Bronco complains. Of course, that doesn’t stop him grabbing another one of the cinnamon rolls, after already shoving two into his mouth. Men are such pigs.
“My food is delicious, but I didn’t say it was good for the waistline.” He gives Bronco a wink, and I stifle a laugh. It’s just like Manny to save the day and give me some time to piecetogether what I’m going to say next. Then Manny waltzes out the same way he came in.
Unfortunately, Cash beats me to the next line of questions.
“Interrogating somebody in the presence of the Sergeant at Arms, and the club’s Enforcer, isn’t the same as being in a situation by yourself that you may not be able to handle,” he goes on. “Lately, things have been chaotic within the MC. What happens when you find yourself in a situation and the club may not be there to help you?”
It’s a valid question, but Cash is forgetting one vital piece of information; I’m not only a black belt in karate, but my dad’s been teaching me self-defense since I was able to walk. I could probably get out of a chokehold faster than the guys sitting around the table, not that I want to test that theory, but I’m not a pushover just because I’m small. I’m a scrapper by nature. In school, I never just took what someone threw at me and ran away. I stayed to fight my bullies, and we all know, bullies don’t like it when you fight back. But that’s who I am. I’ll always fight for what’s right and defend myself. When you’re a girl, you have to learn pressure points and alternative ways to get out of bad situations, because generally, we don’t have the same strength as men. It isn’t sexist, it’s just the truth. Being able to use a weapon is also beneficial, but mace works just as good as any. I can also run really fast when the time calls for it.
“Under my credentials you’ll note my achievements in Tae Kwon Do, and kickboxing,” I say. “And my dad has always taught me self-defense. I know points on the body that can hurt someone, and I can shoot a gun. I’m confident that I’d be able to subdue someone, or get away from an attacker if the time called for it. I may not be able to lift a man Tag’s size, but I could get him down on his knees if I had to.”
Chuckles and laughter sound again as Tag points at me. “I’d like to see you try, little girl.”
“I would, but I don’t want to hurt old men, and you know what they say? The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
Harlem slaps Tag on the back. “Don’t wanna test that theory, brother.”
I’m not intimidating, and I don’t profess to be, but men have balls; that’s their weak spot. Dropping a man isn’t that hard if they don’t see the knee coming.
“You’d also take over cleaning duties from Riggs,” Ryder puts in, probably trying to put me off.
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” I toss back.
“The clubhouse after a weekend, barbecue or party.”
“Fine by me.”
“Changing the sheets upstairs.” They all have rooms upstairs, so when they’re too drunk to stumble home, they can stumble upstairs.
I try my best not to crinkle my nose at the idea, but most of the guys are taken now, so their ol’ ladies don’t let those rooms get as messy as they used to be.
“I can work a washing machine.”
“And the bathrooms,” Nevada sings. “Themen’sbathroom.”
Okay, now I want to gag. I know what goes on in there with some of the single members, and it isn’t exactly PC. “It’s okay, I’ve plunged a toilet brush a few times in my life. I’m sure it won’t be pleasant, but I’ll put an audiobook on and pretend I’m somewhere else, doing something better.”
“I can give you some recommendations,” Bronco puts in helpfully. He and Amber have a book club together. It all started when he was trying to impress her, saying that men in romance books can be nice guys and be dirty, too. So, he put the theory to the test. He doesn’t even care that the guys know he indulges in romance books. I think it’s hilarious.
“Thanks.” I smile. “I’ll take you up on that.”
“I had no clue you had a black belt,” Riot says. “Or that you can shoot a gun.”
I give him a look. “My dad is the club’s Enforcer.” An implied ‘duh’ hangs in the air, and Riot gets a piece of cinnamon roll lobbed at his head.
“If we do let you prospect, you do know that there will be no special privileges just because you’re Harlem’s kid?” Cash says, matter-of-factly.
“I know that, and I wouldn’t expect it.”
“Or that you’re a girl,” he adds.
“I wouldn’t expect that either. No special treatment for me. I expect to be treated like any other prospect.”
“Great, we’ll get that toothbrush out for the toilets,” Nevada laughs.
