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shed.”
    Leaving his beer on the bar, he stands up from his stool and nods at me once before he leaves.
    “Where the hell did you come crawling in from anyway? 1960-something? You look like a hippy in that outfit,” she snarls, her heavily made-up face scrunching tightly as she looks over my body and my un-made-up face.
    Pip interjects. “This is Prez and Carla’s daughter, Monique. You best be showin’ her the right amount of respect, or you’ll find yourself jobless and out on your arse. Prez’ll make sure not one strip joint will hire you in the whole of bloody Australia. And let’s not talk about what Carla’d do to you.”
    “Why should I respect her? She just got here. I had to earn every ounce of respect I get in here.”
    “Yeah. Having big tits and vacuum-like head job action has gotten you really far. You’re a stripper. You’re an easy lay. Don’t confuse yourself as anything more. There’s a reason your skin is still unmarked, girl.”
    “Hey Monique. The bus is leavin’,” another girl calls from the doorway. Monique shoots one last bitched-face look our way, and then turns and leaves, swaying her hips dramatically, as if she thinks it makes her fucking sexy or something.
    “She’s um… nice?” I say as the door bangs shut behind her.
    “She’s a nasty-arsed-bitch. Steer clear.”
    “Where are they going anyway?”
    “The club owns a strip joint one town over, and a brothel in the one after that. Most of the girls around here work in there. Except for the Sweeties and the Old Ladies.”
    “Sweeties?”
    She chuckles. “You really are clueless about this stuff aren’t you? Sweeties are like girlfriends, and Old Ladies are like wives.”
    “And what’s a mouse…?” I ask, not really remembering exactly what Monique called me.
    “A House Mouse. They’re young girls who are brought in to be trained. They help out the Old Ladies until we either find them a place in here or turf them out.”
    “Turf them out?”
    “This life isn’t for everyone, hun,” she says, making me wonder if I want to keep this kind of life. It’s starting to seem a little too close to my old life. Just minus the drugs.
     
    ***
     
    Working on a compound full of bikers is a pretty serious undertaking. There is always so much to do. It reminds me of a motorised version of a tribe, where the men go out and work for the food and the women stay back to prepare it.
    Although, in our case, the men are running strip joints and brothels, and god only knows what else. And the women take care of them all, cooking, cleaning, making sure their sexual needs are met. You know, the usual things that women do in this world.
    “How ar e you finding everything?” my mother after I’ve been helping out for a few days. Today I'm in the kitchen to help Cora get everything ready to feed the club dinner. It’s a massive undertaking and there are six of us in the there, preparing massive trays of cottage pie.
    Seems to me, my mother and father are both the leaders of the club. Prez controls the men’s business and Carla controls the women’s. Everyone on the compound has a specific job to do, and it’s up to the two of them to enforce it. The rule is, if you don’t pull your weight, you don’t stay (medical reasons excluded of course).
    “Um… it’s alright actually. There’s been a lot to keep me busy,” I reply, wiping my hands on a tea towel as I move over to th e serving window to speak to her.
    “You wanna eat here today, or we can eat at home? Maybe we can talk a little more. Things can get kind of hectic when we’re here all day.”
    I lean closer, so I’m not overheard. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. “I wouldn’t mind going home.”
    She smiles at me, nodding her understanding. “I thought you might. It’s been a big week for you. There's a lot to take in. How about you get cleaned up, and I’ll let Prez know we’re leaving. I’ll meet you out front?”
    I let the other girls know