“What do you need, Lilly?” Bonnie asks.

What does the rest of the clubhouse need? Besides a cleaning crew with a tub full of bleach. Or a blow torch.

“I’m not sure. General straightening up, I guess?”

“Condoms,” a girl they call Josey says. She seems to be the brashest one. The kind who came early to stake out a man, not marinate some steaks. “The guys prefer easy access to them if they don’t want to leave and go find a room. At the one outside Portland, they keep bowls in every room. Z should do that here.”

Oh no she didn’t mention Z’s name. “‘Easy access’, is that what the guys call you?” I ask sweetly.

“It should be.” Her friend, Sasha giggles and digs through her purse. She flings a handful of condoms in Josey’s face and they both laugh.

So, basically they’re making more of a mess for me to clean up.

I glare at them, then shift my gaze to the condoms scattered on the floor. Sasha kneels down to scoop them up while apologizing.

At least one of them knows I’m not fucking around.

Serena leans into me and says in a low voice, “Josey isn’t a regular here. She’s not usually helpful when she visits. She hangs out at different charters until someone’s old lady kicks her out and then she moves on to the next.”

“Fantastic,” I mutter. “Just what I need.”

Josey eyes me up and down, then shoots a glare at Charlotte over by the bar. “Are old ladies leaving after they set up this party?” She crosses her arms over her chest and lowers her voice to a soft purr. “I was hoping to get reacquainted with Z now that he’s here full-time.”

This bitch.

My anger spikes off the chart, but I somehow manage to hang onto my cool and not rip off Josey’s head. “Since I’m Z’s old lady, you better readjust your plans.”

She feigns surprise by slapping her palm to her mouth. “Sorry, Lilly,” she says, not sounding one bit sorry. “It’s just, you know, Z’s a real generous guy.”

Sasha’s gaze skitters between Josey and me. “You know how it is,” she says in a wobbly voice.

I cut her off before she continues. “No. Enlighten me.”

“Well,” Josey says, speaking to me as if I’m slow, “usually the old ladies go home where they belong so everyone else can have a good time.”

Sasha bobs her head up and down as if her friend just offered me some helpful information.

I’m way too old for this nonsense. “Is that right?”

Josey ignores the deadly calm in my voice. “Yeah, and Z’s always been fun to party with. I don’t think—”