But Queenie laughed and dropped a kiss on his upturned face. “You know it.
I recognized Aloha from Psychos, and he did a double take when he recognized me. “Bliss! Good to see you here. You already met my woman, I see?”
“I did. She’s very kindly introducing me around.” Which I was incredibly grateful for because Rebel seemed to have disappeared into the crowd of people.
“Come on, sugar, let’s keep going. You need to come meet the rest of the girls if you want to hang here. The boys will accept anything with tits and a warm pussy, but it’s the women you need to get on your side. They might be tiny skinny scraps of things, but don’t underestimate how wily they can be.” She grinned at my worried face. “Not me, of course. I couldn’t care less who hangs around here, but I already locked my man down tight, and he doesn’t stray. The other girls are younger, and they have their favorites amongst the guys. You don’t want to step on that if you want to keep them sweet.”
I swallowed thickly. I’d just walked into a whole different world with a whole new set of rules I hadn’t studied in advance.
Queenie waved at a few other people and introduced me to a couple of other guys, most who were already vaguely familiar, even if I hadn’t spoken to them directly. I caught sight of Rebel for a moment, and she shot me a questioning thumbs-up, which I nodded to, even though I really wasn’t one-hundred-percent comfortable, but then she disappeared again, so I kept following Queenie.
Inside, a long bar took up almost the entire right-hand wall. Two men with club cuts stood with the rows of alcohol at their backs, pouring drinks for the women who sat on the other side.
I was instantly awkward. They both wore tiny tight dresses that rode up their thighs. One had a skirt so short I could see her panties and I was pretty sure she knew it. Their long legs were toned and skinny and looked great in the impossibly tall high heels.
Queenie nudged me. “Don’t be jealous. They might have tiny little bodies we ain’t had since we were prepubescent, but they jealous of our titties.”
She shook her own, and I grinned at her. I liked Queenie a lot.
“Siren, Kiki. Meet Bliss. She came in with Rebel.”
Kiki jumped off her stool, wobbling over to us on her heels that she didn’t seem to have much practice in. “Bliss! What a beautiful name!” She wrapped her skinny arms around me in a surprisingly strong hug.
Queenie frowned, then glanced over at the guys behind the bar. “She’s toast, and it’s not even nine. No more.”
“Aw, Queenie!” Kiki complained, but it was clear there was no messing with Queenie’s orders. She was obviously the mother hen, and she’d cut Kiki off.
Siren didn’t get up off her seat to greet me. She just nodded coolly. I did the same back.
“You want a drink, Bliss?” one of the young guys behind the bar called out. He introduced himself as Ice and had long blond hair that curled around his collar.
I did. Badly. But I was also a little worried about fully relaxing in this place. Everyone had been kind and welcoming so far, but I hadn’t forgotten that any one of them could be Axel’s killer.
“Yeah, she wants a drink,” a deep voice said at my back.
I glanced over my shoulder, though I knew exactly who it was.
War grinned down at me. “Hey, baby girl.”
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I didn’t know what it was about him. Perhaps it was the protective way he’d sat at his mother’s bedside while she was frail and helpless. Or maybe it was just my hormones intercepting the smart thoughts that were probably trying to warn me away from the leather-jacket-wearing, tatted-up, self-confessed bad boy. “Baby girl isn’t a very creative nickname.”
He grinned. “It’s not, is it? I’ll do better. But first, pick your poison. We got a party to have, and you can’t be sober for it.”
“Is that a club rule?”
“Nah, but I can tell you want one. And so do I.” He put his hand on the small of my back and guided me over to the bar. “We aren’t big on wine here. So it’s beer or hard spirits. Scotch, bourbon, vodka, or tequila.”
“Tequila.”
He let out a chuckle. “Okay, okay. I wasn’t expecting that, but good for you.”
The guy behind the bar had already poured War a glass of scotch on ice, but War pushed it to the side. “Make it two. Nobody should do tequila shots alone.”
“I’ll have one as well,” Siren called, sliding off her barstool and strutting over to stand at War’s other side. She put a hand possessively on his arm. “How are you, baby? How’s Fancy doing?”