Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“Not that kind of scoring,” she answered.
“What kinda scorin’ you talkin’ about?”
“The kind that will make my ol’ man happy, not pissed off.” She ran the pad of her thumb down the side of her nose.
Midas continued to stare at her, then without another word he leaned forward and whistled sharply. When he caught a bartender’s attention, he crooked his finger, then pointed at Cami.
This could either be good... or it could go horribly wrong.
She hoped it wasn’t the latter.
The bartender, wearing a Demons cut, stopped in front of Midas. “What’s up, brother? Need another beer?”
“Yeah. Gimme another one.” He tipped his gray head toward Cami. “This ‘lil lady’s lookin’ to try one of those specialty drinks you serve.”
The biker bartender’s eyes slid to her and he sized her up. “Who are you?”
“Rose,” rolled right off her tongue like it had been her name since birth.
“Never saw you in here before.”
“I guess there’s a first time for everything, including coming to Hawg Wild.” She made a show of glancing around. “Interesting place.”
“Who told you ‘bout our specialty drinks?”
The Demon’s question pulled her attention back to him. “My ol’ man is friends with a friend of a Demon. He got the word that you might have what he’s looking for.”
“Why ain’t his ass standin’ before me ‘steada you?”
“Well, because of the obvious… I’m his ol’ lady and do what he tells me. He told me to come to Hawg Wild and get what he’s looking for. I don’t question him, I just do it.”
“Like any good ol’ lady should,” Midas said.
“Doesn’t your ol’ lady do what you tell her?” she asked the bartender with the name patch that identified him as Hook. “Or are you a pussy and let her boss you around?”
Next to her, a chuckle came from Midas.
The young biker frowned. “Ain’t got an ol’ lady. Don’t need some bitch harpin’ at me twenty-four-seven. And if I did have one, she better fuckin’ listen to what I tell her.”
Charming.
“Exactly. The whole reason I’m here, Hook. Now that we got that out of the way… What size do those special drinks come in?”
For a few moments, she didn’t think he would answer and when he did, he did so reluctantly. “A shot, small, medium and large.”
Her best guess was a shot had to be a single dose, small a gram, medium an eight-ball and a large might be an ounce.
“How much for the medium?”
“A buck fifty.”
“Damn. He didn’t give me enough for that. What about the small?”
“Eighty.”
The money Crew handed her before she left The Plant earlier was a marked hundred-dollar bill. “I’ll take a small this time.”
“Be back.” Hook headed down the bar and through a swinging door behind it.
“Nice guy,” she muttered to Midas.
The older man snorted loudly. “Gettin’ what you came for, right? Who the fuck cares if he’s nice or not?”
Cami shot him a grin. “True.”
It wasn’t long before Hook was on his way back to where she stood sandwiched between Midas and another biker. In the bartender’s hand was one of those to-go coffee cups with a lid.
Maybe the Demons weren’t so dumb after all. However, she wasn’t ready to give them any credit yet for being ingenious since they were dealing out in the open in a crowded bar.
Any undercover cop could be in the crowd.
Or an undercover DEA agent.
He placed the cup on the bar top but didn’t let it go. With a, “Thanks,” she reached for it.
He quickly yanked it away. “Gotta pay for it first.”
She dug into her bag, dug out the money and slid it across the bar.
He snatched it with one hand and pushed the cup toward her with the other. And instead of making change at the register, he dug into his cut and pulled out a wad of cash. He held it low as he peeled off a twenty and threw it on the bar top in front of her before moving away.
She shouldn’t walk out of Hawg Wild with that coffee cup. She might as well put a target on her back. Instead, she might hit the head and hide the baggie of meth in her bralette or something. Or find some way to smuggle it out since she was sure Crew would want the cup as evidence.
But before she left, she had one more plan to set in motion first. “Hey, Hook,” she called out, hoping he’d hear her over the din, “who’s the manager here?”
He glanced at her from where he now poured a draft beer a few feet away. “Why you askin’?”
So she didn’t have to yell, she waited until he dropped the beer off in front of Midas before answering, “I didn’t only come here to try your specialty drink. I’m looking for a job, too.”
He pursed his lips as he studied her. Without another word, he spun on his heels and walked away.