Fierce (Storm MC 2)

I spent the next few hours pampering myself, hoping it would negate the effects of the hangover. I showered and gave myself a facial, pedicure and manicure. At the end of it all, I felt a million times better. So, it was on that high that I received a phone call from my mum that shot all my plans to shit.

“Harlow, honey, one of the fridges at the café died. I’m rushing around trying to sort all the food into the other fridge, but I’m pretty busy and could do with a hand serving customers while I take care of it.” She sounded frazzled.

“Sure, Mum. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you,” she replied, and hung up.

I quickly threw on a dress, grabbed my keys and bag, and drove the short distance to Mum’s café. We lived about six minutes from it, which I loved because traffic and I didn’t see eye to eye. There were way too many idiots on the road, and too many road rules to follow.

Mum’s body sagged a little when she saw me walk through the front door. The tension just whooshed out of her. Being such a strong, independent woman since the day my father died when I was fifteen, she had a tendency to take everything on by herself and hated to ask for help.

“Thanks for coming,” she greeted me, and gave me a hug.

I grabbed an apron and shooed her with my hands, “Go. Sort your fridges. I’ll take care of the customers.”

She saluted me. “Yes, honey. I’m gone.” And with that, she darted out to the back kitchen.

I spent the next few hours making coffees and serving food. It was a fairly busy afternoon, and the time flew by. Mum dealt with her fridge storage issues and then made calls to find out about getting the fridge fixed. Just after five thirty she appeared at the counter looking upset. I’d just locked the front door after seeing the last customer out.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her with a sinking feeling. Mum was such a practical person; not much made her look that down.

“I need a new fridge and that’s going to cost thousands. Thousands that I don’t have.”

“Shit.”

She exhaled loudly. “Just when things were turning around. Why is it always two steps forward and five steps back? For once, I just want things to be easy.”

I went to her and grabbed her in a huge hug. “We’ll work it out, Ma. We always do.”

She clung to me for a few minutes and then pulled away, exhausted eyes searching mine. “I’m not sure how this time, Harlow. It feels like we’re at the end of our rope. And I’m not sure I have it in me to fight anymore. I’m sick of rolling with the punches. I’m black and blue from them.”

My heart cracked a little more for her. She’d done so much for me in my life; made so many sacrifices. It was my turn now to do that for her. And I knew I had at least one option open to me.

“I’ll help. I think I can get a night job and that will help pay for the fridge. But I need to go there now before they give the job to someone else. Will you be okay to close up by yourself?”

She nodded, relief flooding her face. “Thank you,” she almost whispered, and I could tell she was fighting tears.

“I love you, Mum. And I’ll do anything to make this work.”

“I love you too, baby girl. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

I left her to close up, and flew down Sandgate Road towards the Valley. Our café was at Clayfield and Scott’s club was in the Valley. Unfortunately, it was bloody peak hour so traffic was a bitch. What would normally take me ten minutes, took me just over twenty. Between that trip and finding a park when I got there, I’d managed to yell abuse at one driver and give another the finger. As I walked to the club from the carpark, I contemplated the intelligence of my decision to give up smoking a year ago. I could really do with a cigarette right about now.

When I got to the front door it was locked. Damn it. I probably should have realised they wouldn’t be open at six o’clock at night. Digging in my bag, I found my phone and Googled their phone number. No answer. Shit. I dialed it again, hoping to annoy them into answering but still no answer.

“Can I help you?” a deep voice surprised me from behind. I spun around and was met with the greenest eyes I think I’d ever seen.

“Do you work here?”

“Who’s asking?”

I stepped back and ran my gaze over him. He was tall and dressed in similar clothes to what Scott had been wearing the last time I saw him; jeans, black t-shirt, biker vest and boots. He didn’t appear to have any tattoos but he was rocking the chunky rings; just about every finger had a ring on it. And he was stacked with muscles. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, and the corded muscles in his arms screamed at me for attention.

“My name’s Harlow, and I’m looking for Scott. Scott Cole; do you know him?”

Nodding, he sized me up. He must have decided I was okay because he stepped around me and unlocked the front door, ushering me in. I entered and got a good look at the club as it was lit up. Oh, good Lord, that carpet. It was worse than the carpet you saw in an RSL club; gaudy as hell. But I figured that no-one would be paying much attention to it and besides, the lights were usually off during business hours. Red seemed to be the main colour of Indigo; red carpet splashed with little black symbols, red walls, and red seats that had a touch of black on them. There was a circular bar area a little off centre to the right as you entered the room, and the stage where I was guessing the strippers did their thing was to the left.

I followed the guy past the bar, around to the right, and through a locked door. Now we were in a short hallway that we followed to the end, at which point he stopped and knocked on the door we were now standing in front of.