Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jigsaw

I was right about Z and Rock calling everyone for church the next morning. Good thing I stayed at the main Upstate clubhouse instead of going to the new one down in Empire. All I had to do was get dressed and walk downstairs. I don't even have to bother with my boots.

The clubhouse is quiet as I jog down the hardwood stairs. In the living room, the large flat-screen TV on the wall is on at a low volume. Cartoons play across the screen, but it's not some of the club's kids busy watching. Sparky's giddy, childlike giggles and Stash's harsh guffaws break the silence. They're sprawled on the couches in the same exact spots they were last night when I came in. Their dedication to laziness could make a sloth jealous.

I eyeball the twin two-liter bottles of Mountain Dew on the floor with suspicion.

Sparky flips his gaze to me and sits up. "You stay here last night?" He yawns and stretches his arms high, lifting his shirt to show off his pasty white belly. He slowly eases himself off the couch and yawns again.

"I literally talked to you two clowns when I came in," I remind them, amusement and a hint of exasperation coloring my tone. "Remember I asked if Murphy's room was free and you said, ‘nothing in life is free' then fell off the couch giggling?"

Sparky glances at Stash who shrugs and rolls off the couch, landing on his feet.

"Why are you walking around barefoot?" Sparky approaches while staring at my feet like he finds them personally offensive.

I wiggle my toes. "What? I have nice feet. After church I'm going to go outside and touch some grass." I glance down at his big, woolly socks. "You should give it a try sometime."

He giggles like a five-year-old. "I touch grass all the time. I'm one with the grass."

"You're one with something, all right," I growl.

"Great comeback," Stash sneers.

"Give me time. I just got up." I reach out and smack the ends of his unruly hair. "You ever bother to brush that shit? Looks like a squirrel-tail hat my pappy had when I was a kid."

"The fuck it does." He brushes my hands away and slaps his wild hair into place. "Girls love running their fingers through my hair."

Several bikes pull into the parking lot out front, interrupting our insult ping-pong. Sounds like at least one or two from my charter. I lift my chin at Stash. "What'd everyone do, stay at the other clubhouse last night?"

"Most of the single dudes did. Dex actually went in to work at CB. Grinder and Serena stayed with Wrath and Trinity. Z and Lilly are at Rock and Hope's."

"Rock must be loving that." I snicker into my hand. Rock's always making sly threats about Z showing up to his house unannounced.

Sparky shrugs. "I think Alexa stayed there too so the littles all had a sleepover."

"Cute." Glad I wasn't anywhere near that .

Upstairs, doors slam and sleepy voices increase in volume.

"I can't believe we're the first ones up," Sparky says to Stash. "This must be a sign of good moon energy."

I squint at Sparky. "Did you even go to sleep last night, moonbeam?"

"Is that Jiggy I hear?" Shelby's soft southern twang drifts down the stairs.

I lift my head, the corners of my mouth instantly lifting. "It's me, songbird."

She comes into view, hurrying down the last few steps, dressed in a matching teal workout set and her blonde waves piled in a messy bun on top of her head.

A big grin spreads over her face when her gaze lands on me. "Where'd you run off to last night?" She hurries over and quickly wraps her arms around my middle, giving me a squeeze hello.

Shelby's one of the very few people whose hugs don't instantly make me recoil. Or she does it so often, I've been desensitized. We've been through some shit, and I care for her like she was my own sister.

"You're chipper this morning," I say, returning the hug.

She casts a quick smile at Sparky. "I suspect I'm feeling a lot better than some of y'all gonna be feelin' today."

Shit, is Margot okay this morning?

I give Shelby another quick squeeze. "I'll be right back."

Where the fuck can I go to find some peace and quiet in this clubhouse? I should've checked on Margot before I left the bedroom.

I head down the hallway, passing the bathrooms. The door to the yoga studio—what used to be Upstate's champagne room—is wide open, and beyond it it's shadowy. Perfect.

I slip inside and close the door behind me, then pull out my phone. Text or call? Does anyone make phone calls anymore? What if she's still asleep? Text it is.

Me: How are you feeling today?

I stare at my screen until the message shows delivered. Fucking shitty, slow cell service up here.

"Jigsaw?"

So intent on my damn phone, I didn't hear the door swing open. I startle and turn. Swan's slight frame stands in the doorway. She reaches out and flips on the light switch. "Are you joining us for yoga today?"

I blink rapidly, adjusting to the sudden flood of bright light. "Ha. Nice try." I stuff my phone in my pocket. "Got church."

"I'll rope you in one of these days," she teases.

Sit and watch my brothers' wives and ol' ladies moving through sensual poses? Not fucking likely. "I'm sure you will."

As I step into the hallway, the chatter coming from the living room has increased. I cock my head, listening for Z. Nope. My prez isn't here yet. I still have time to hit the dining room. After church, we'll all sit down for breakfast together with the ol' ladies, kids, and whoever else is up here. But before church, the girls usually make sure we have coffee and some other snacks.

Bright light streams in through the huge windows in the large, cafeteria-style dining room. Tables and chairs are still stacked to one side of the room. To my right, the bar counter's overflowing with morning drink options. Coffee, hot water, and this week someone stuck a cooler full of bottles of orange and cranberry juices out too.

Instead of coffee, I grab a bottle of orange juice, twist the cap and take a deep sip.

"Do you want a muffin to go with it?" someone asks from behind me.

I turn and find Lala holding a tray of fat, freshly baked muffins. The rich scent of citrus and cinnamon tempts me into snatching the biggest one from the tray.

"They're cranberry orange." She sets the tray on the last clear space on the counter.

"Looks good." I search the area for a plate or napkin.

Bonnie, another club girl from Downstate, steps up to the counter and sets out plates, napkins, a tub of butter, and a tub of cream cheese.

"How'd you know that's what I was lookin' for, darlin'?" I tease.

She beams at me. "Where'd you go last night? Thought I'd see you down at the other clubhouse."

"Nope." I slice my muffin in half, dig into the cream cheese and smear it all over one side.

"That's how I like them too," Lala says, gently bumping Bonnie aside to grab a muffin of her own. Bonnie shoulder checks Lala.

I lift my gaze to the ceiling. Can't a man eat a muffin in peace?

"Ladies, there is more than enough of me to go around," I warn them, hoping that if I identify the elephant in the room, it will deflate it. "But I'm not looking for company today."

Behind me someone snorts. "Since when?"

Lala giggles but Bonnie glares at me. I sneer at her and she hurries with Lala back into the kitchen.

Still laughing, Dex grabs a cup and fills it with coffee. "You eat too many pot brownies last night?"

"Not a single one."

I cast a quick glance around the still mostly empty dining room. That could change any minute, though. After church, Dex will probably head into Crystal Ball and I won't be able to get him alone. "Can I ask you something?"

Caught mid-sip, Dex raises his eyebrows at me.

"Don't you dare laugh," I warn. "I'd ask Rooster, but I already know the answer and it won't be helpful."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Dex answers in a dry tone. "Now I'm dying to know."

Fuck. Am I really doing this? I roll my eyes and jam my hands into my pockets. I can't believe I started this conversation. It's not like Google isn't free.

Tucking my juice bottle under my arm and holding my muffin, I grab his elbow with my free hand and move us into the far corner of the dining room.

Dex stares at where I'm holding onto him. "Can I at least get a muffin before you inflict whatever insanity's going on in your head today?"

"Here." I thrust my remaining half at him.

He stares at it like I tried to force a dead fish down his throat. "Thanks, I'm good." Irritation's clear in his voice.

Just ask and get this over with.

"When's the last time you were with a virgin?" I end up whispering the last word like I'm eleven years old again, waiting for my father to pop out of the shadows and crack his whip across my back.

A line forms between Dex's eyes, like he's trying to decide if I'm serious or clowning him. He sucks in a breath like he's preparing to rattle off a long, scolding speech.

"I'm serious." Hopefully that helps skip the lecture and get to the advice part.

He blows out a breath and runs his hand over the back of his neck. "What kind of question is that?" His eyes narrow. "What poor, unfortunate virgin are you planning to bed?"

I don't need him putting two and two together and calculating it's Margot. I realize she's not a virgin but she's definitely inexperienced, so this seemed like the simplest way to phrase it without sharing too many personal details. "No one you know."

He opens his mouth and I hold up my hand to stop the question I know is about to come out. "Yes, she's legal and then some. Come on. You're always preaching all that sex positivity shit. Help your brother out. Have you ever been with a virgin?"

He stares at me for a few more seconds. "Uh, my wife when we were in high school." He lets out a heavy sigh. "What exactly is your question?"

What the fuck is my question? Or am I looking for Papa Dex to talk some sense into me?

"How'd you make it good for her…and how'd you help her, I don't know, gain confidence that she was doing things right?"

He tilts his head and shifts his gaze to the window for a second. Not like he's judging me, more like he's pondering the question. I knew once Dex got over his initial shock, he'd come through for me.

"Fuck, I don't know if I thought about it quite that way. We were both virgins, so it was a lot of awkward fumbling around together until things felt good."

An almost fond smile tilts the corners of his mouth, not the sad frown he usually gets when he mentions his wife—which is almost never.

"But, unless you've been lying all those times you've bragged about your…conquests," he rolls his eyes, "you know what you're doing."

My lips curve into a cocky smirk. "So I've been told. Many, many times. By an infinite variety of?—"

"Good Christ." He cuts me off. "Whoever she is, let the poor girl find someone else."

I open my mouth to say something snarky but stop. Should I tell Margot to find someone else? Someone she actually has stuff in common with?

No, she's not looking for a relationship.

And she specifically asked for my help.

"She doesn't want anyone else," I say.

He heaves out a heavy, annoyed sigh. "Does she masturbate?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let her show you what she likes. Or help her figure out what she likes. Every woman's a little different." He casts a stink eye toward the kitchen. "Since I assume you've only been fucking bunnies for the last decade?—"

"With the occasional civilian MILF thrown in for variety."

"Great." He shakes his head and bites down his laughter. "Older women usually already know what they like."

" Yesss , they do." I let out a dirty laugh.

He rolls his eyes. "Right. And muffler bunnies will tell you whatever they think you want to hear—" His eyes widen as if he stumbled upon the answer to a great mystery. "You care about whoever this is. A lot."

"Care is a bit strong." Lie. "I like her and want to teach her some skills for her future." I wave my hand in the air like it's nothing.

"Is she running away from a convent or something?"

I snort-laugh. "No."

"I don't know what else to tell you." He sighs. "Make her comfortable. Go slow. Pretend you know what foreplay is."

"Oh, I know all about foreplay, brother."

He rolls his eyes again. "Don't assume she's into everything you're doing to her. Realize she might be too nervous to tell you no . Pay attention to her body's signals." He lifts his shoulders, scrunches his face into an unpleasant cringe, and holds his hands out like he's pushing someone away. " This isn't a sign to fuck her harder."

When I nod but don't offer my usual snarky comment, he drops his hands and continues, "Don't jam your dick down her throat. Be patient with her. Show her what you like. Communicate. That's the biggest thing. Make her put into words what she actually likes and wants you to do."

I absorb each suggestion, especially that last one. All things that should've been obvious. Did I really need Dex's advice?

Or was I just hoping he'd try harder to talk me out of it?

"Thanks, brother." I slap his shoulder.

"Does this mean you're not going to help me out at CB anymore?" he asks.

I curl my lip. Why the fuck would he assume that? "No, why?"

"Figured someone that innocent might not like her man working in a strip club."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm not her man. I'm no one's man."

He narrows his eyes, then shakes his head. "You know what? It's not my business. Just be nice and be clear with her that it's not a relationship."

"Already covered that part."

"Well, give her a refresher course before you get down to business. Don't be a dick. But be clear."

"I will."

He stares at me a few seconds longer. "Wow, I really woke up in the Twilight Zone this morning."

I slap his shoulder. "Buckle up, cupcake, shit's only going to get stranger."