Page 39 of Jasper
She leans in, her elbow brushing mine. Her voice is just loud enough so that I can’t tune her out. “He’s got a type when it comes to the girls from outside. He likes them plain, simple,and willing to settle for crumbs of attention. They all think he’s different because he pulls out chairs and remembers their names.”
I turn my body towards her, slowly. She smiles again, but it still doesn’t reach her eyes.
“We’ve been together for years. Every time I throw him out of my bed he rages at me, doles out punishments he doesn’t enforce, and then comes crawling back to me because I’m the only one who can give him what he really wants.”
“One, you act like that’s something to be proud of. And second, you’re lying,” I tell her in a polite tone.
“Oh, honey,” she purrs, “I’m trying to do you a favor here. Trying to save you some heartache.”
She blinks once, then her voice hardens. “Don’t call me a liar. You don’t know him like I do. We’ve got history. And now that he’s sliding into that big seat his daddy’s warming up for him?” Her eyes flash with greed. “I’ve got a future too.”
And there it is. She’s finally telling the truth. Silver doesn’t want Jasper. She wants the president’s patch that he’ll soon be wearing. She wants the status of being his old lady, the illusion of power without the work behind it.
“You think he’s yours,” I say flatly.
“I know what’s mine,” she snaps, voice sharper now.
I grip the glass in front of me, pulse ticking in my neck. She has no idea the man she’s circling belongs to something bigger now.
“You don’t know what you’ve walked into,” Silver says. “This club, these men? They don’t protect softness. They use it.”
Her voice slides lower, into something that feels rehearsed and raw at the same time. “You think walking around on his arm means he cares about you? I’ve been on his arm as well, for years in fact. He always comes back to me in the end.”
“You should sit somewhere else,” I say, voice low. I know for a fact she’s lying about being with him for years, but I learned you don’t mess with women like Silver. Not unless you’re willing to go all the way.
“Or what?”
“I’m just asking you politely to sit somewhere else,” I say.
Her mouth opens, ready to snap again.
When a stern voice calls out, “Silver.”
We both turn to find Queenie standing halfway down the stairs, a drink in her hand, her face contorted in anger.
Silver freezes in place for a second and then turns, like she already knows the hammer’s about to drop.
Queenie stands near the base of the stairs in the same dark jeans and a black t-shirt she wore to dinner. Her lowball glass catches the light, the amber liquid inside still sloshing around in glass. She’s not shouting. She doesn’t have to. She might not be a tall woman, but what she lacks in size she makes up for in presence.
When Silver doesn’t answer immediately, she calls her name again. “Silver,” her voice even. It’s somehow worse than yelling.
Silver shifts her weight, running her hands down her hips in a vain effort to smooth out her wrinkled clothing. She stammers, “I didn’t know who she was,” she says quickly. “I wasn’t being rude.”
“Didn’t know?” Queenie cuts in, starting her slow walk across the bar. Silver cringes a little more with every step the older woman takes towards her. “You mean to tell me you stood here in my bar, flapping your mouth like you own the place, and you didn’t know the woman you were threatening is carrying my grandchild?”
Silver stiffens. She opens her mouth again, but Queenie doesn’t give her time to speak.
“Jasper told me what happened earlier with the prospects. I thought you moved past playing mind games. Guess I was mistaken. You were put on a warning. That means you don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. You don’t flirt, you don’t linger, you don’t drink or enjoy the company of any of the brothers. And you sure as hell don’t run your mouth to my son’s woman.”
“She’s not…” Silver starts, but that earns her a sharp look that shuts her up mid-word.
“You think I give a damn what your opinion is?” Queenie says, stepping toe-to-toe with her now. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing after what you pulled at your former clubhouse, your actions nearly killed my granddaughter. I took your sorry ass in. I gave you shelter, rules, a year of clean living. And this is how you repay me?”
Silver’s gaze drops to the floor.
“I’ve got half a mind to kick you out tonight,” Queenie says. “But I won’t because I believe that deep down inside there’s something worth saving in you. But you will stay on a warning until I say otherwise. And if I hear one more word about you touching a drink, bothering a brother, or opening your mouth where it doesn’t belong, I’ll make you wish you’d stayed in withyour former club. Am I making myself abundantly clear? You abide by my rules, or you go.”
Silver’s lower lip trembles, but she nods and backs away, her posture stiff, her mouth clamped shut.
