Page 42 of Mimic

“Fuck, no. Brothers don’t put a property patch on just anyone. And never a club whore.”

“Didn’t Massacre put a patch on Amber?”

He stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder. “You’re right. But that was different. They had history.”

There were rumors floating around town about Amber. I didn’t know whether they were true. But given that she knew Daniel Scott, I imagined there was some truth to them.

“But Crystal’s a whore; Amber wasn’t.”

“What’s the difference?”

He set the plate in front of me, and I smiled. I like Johnny. I counted him as a friend. He’d never made a pass at me or ever been inappropriate. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he was a gentleman, but he wasn’t an asshole to women, and that was rare these days.

“Crystal will spread her legs for anyone. Amber had standards.”

“Are club girls allowed to have standards?” I asked.

I certainly wasn’t. I did what and who I was told if I wanted to eat. If I wanted to survive.

“Here they are. I don’t know about other clubs.” Johnny sat down across from me, and we ate in silence. I wondered if I was missing my chance to slip away. No one was here but the girls, who I could easily best. And the prospects.

Would Johnny stop me from leaving? I knew Archie would. All you had to do was look at him to see how much he wanted this. He wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize his patch.

Joey was young. He was also distracted. He’d come in one day for a tattoo with his baby sister. She was barely two years old, and his mother was crashed out on the couch. That little girldeserved better than a strung-out mom. At least she had Joey. And Joey had the club.

Then there was Keys. He was usually the one behind the bar. I didn’t know much about him. He’d only been in once and asked for Gunner or Bruce. I guess he didn’t want a woman working on him.

Jonah was the newest prospect. He was big. I mean, like a brick shithouse was an understatement, big. I still thought I could take him, though. Guys like him didn’t move easily. Muscles tended to slow down your mobility.

“You can’t leave,” Johnny said, as if he were reading my mind.

“I didn’t say I was going anywhere.”

“I see you sizing everyone up. And while something tells me you might get past us prospects; you’d never get past Tiffany.”

“Tiffany? Really?”

I looked over at the blonde woman sitting at the table with the others. She was tall and slim. Her boobs were big, but not big enough that they looked fake. She was muscular, like a runner. But there wasn’t anything that stood out to make me believe I couldn’t take her.

“She’s a black belt in Krav Maga.”

“Seriously? Her?”

Johnny nodded, and suddenly I had a new respect for Tiffany. I tried not to be a judgmental bitch, but come on, the name Tiffany screamed rich, pampered princess, or slutty stripper.

“I wonder if she’d teach me,” I whispered.

“Hey, Tiff!” Johnny yelled across the room.

“What’s up, Johnny?” Tiffany stood from her seat and started toward us.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-yelled at him.

“Indie wants you to teach her Krav Maga.”

“Really?” The woman smiled so brightly that my mouth gaped open. She seemed excited, but why? She looked at me expectantly, and I realized she was waiting for me to confirm.

“I mean... if you wanted to.”