Mature Content 17+ || Savage Wolves MC Book Two
In the wake of tragedy, Callie never fails at staying positive. But, after having her brother and the rest of the club nearly taken from her, she's a little more cautious, albeit still upbeat.
So caut...
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•Gray•
Removing each bottle of liquor carefully from their containers, I dutifully stock them on the shelves in one of the back rooms behind the bar.
Thousands and thousands of dollars worth of merchandise surround me and I'm weary of accidentally knocking them over like Erik, a former prospect did his fourth week into working for the club.
Poor kid barely survived the beating Ash gave him after he bumped a rack and toppled over its contents onto the floor, painting the concrete in expensive scotch and fancy vodkas.
For a second I think about cracking the seal on one of the bottles of whiskey, taking a large pull and allowing the amber liquid to burn a delicious fire within my stomach. Then I remember my place and know I need to keep my head in the game.
Boozing and getting shitfaced while on the clock isn't allowed and is grounds for dismissal. A few cheap beers during the day and night aren't against the rules as long as we don't get drunk, but hard liquor is only allowed on off days - if we ever manage to get an off day.
Since showing up here last year, I've had a grand total of twelve days where I wasn't requested to scrub floors, stock shelves, or do whatever else bidding Ash demands.
I almost prefer scrubbing floors and stocking shelves to the other things him and the club have me do sometimes. They claim it's 'preparation' for my future job as a member.
Flashes of bloodied faces and broken noses flood my mind and I try and think of other things to get the images of those unfortunate souls out of my head.
I know it's all part of the club life and if I want in, I'll have to get used to it, but watching the life drain from peoples eyes and seeing my knuckles crack and bleed with every hit bring back unhealthy memories I'd wanted to bury and forget.
Finishing off a box, I throw the empty crate into the corner where the others are kept and check to make sure the fresh bottles of alcohol are properly stored and not at risk of sliding off and crashing against the hard flooring.
While shuffling a few bottles of vodka around, the reflection of a blonde haired princess catches my attention and I stop, turning to see the radiant young girl I haven't been able to stop thinking of.
Her skin is practically glowing with having just returned from her spa day, pampered and glimmering with a relaxing shine.
Her long golden locks are hanging down her back, a few wily strands sticking out in a few places and she runs her fingers through it to smooth it, as if she knows I can see her beautiful imperfections.
A leather jacket containing countless pins and patches is thrown over her shoulders and I ache to see her take it off, slowly, before stripping the rest of her clothing off.
