Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
He watched her hips swing seductively as she headed over to a booth where two older men sat. They eye-fucked her the whole trip over to their table.
Of course, that was to be expected. The Peach Pit was a strip club. While it wasn’t supposed to be selling physical sex, it was selling fantasy. And Sapphire certainly invoked plenty of fantasies. He could say that from experience.
While the dancers wanted their customers to believe they actually had a shot with them, the truth was, the majority didn’t and never would. The more skilled they were at acting interested, the more money they made in tips.
Sapphire was one of the best at it. But then, she’d been working in clubs just like the one he was sitting in for the majority of her adult life. The same as Mel.
Rez never knew stripping could actually be a career path until meeting those two women. He never once saw a gentlemen’s club set up a table at Career Day back in high school.
Once the dark-haired beauty slipped into the booth with the two men, he reluctantly swung his attention back to the biker standing in front of him, blocking the view of the stage.
“Make a better door than window, Saint.”
The man said nothing.
“How about I buy a lap dance from her after payday, yeah? I’ll make up for the time she wasted with me, a customer,” he emphasized.
Saint snorted. “You’ve been spendin’ a fuckton of time here lately without spendin’ a lotta scratch. You buy a beer, you toss a few ones on stage, and that’s fuckin’ it.”
Damn, he had landed on the biker’s radar. That wasn’t good.
“Then you also know I fork out the scratch for the cover charge, too. Your leather-vested goon at the door ain’t letting anyone in without greasing his palm first.”
“Price to pay to watch the best entertainment in the area.”
Rez bit back his laugh. Mostly because Saint was being serious and Rez didn’t want his ass kicked out. Saint could easily ban him from the club.
And Rez had two good reasons he didn’t want to be banned.
But truthfully, The Peach Pit’s current stable of “entertainers” wasn’t even worth the five bucks he had to pay to get in the door. They used to charge ten when Mel was manager, however, they were forced to drop the price when the quality and quantity of the girls dropped.
If the club and the entertainment kept swirling the drain, they might soon have to get rid of the cover charge all together to get anyone to fill the seats.
“If you ain’t drinkin’, ain’t buyin’ time with one of my ladies or ain’t generously tippin’, then get out. Come back when you got more scratch.”
The Demon spun on his boot heel and was about to leave when Rez announced, “That’s not why I stopped in tonight.”
Saint stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to face Rez. “Yeah? What’s the fuckin’ reason you’re takin’ up space here, then?”
“Heard you ain’t selling only beer and lap dances.”
He should’ve cleared this move with Crew first, but fuck it… He had to jump on a good opportunity when it presented itself.
The man went completely still and, if Rez had to admit it, his expression turned a bit scary.
Saint sucked on his teeth so hard Rez thought he might swallow the few that still graced his mouth. “Yeah? Who’s sayin’ that? That cunt?” His narrowed eyes sliced over to Sapphire, hung there for a few seconds, before slicing back to him. “That bitch runnin’ her fuckin’ mouth?”
For fuck’s sake. “Cool your fucking jets. She didn’t say shit. She’s only trying to keep the few customers you have left by being nice to them.”
“She ain’t paid to be nice. She’s paid to get you fuckin’ horny so you spend some green. That’s it.”
“Well, she’s an expert at making me horny, so there’s that.” None of that was a lie. He’d thought about Sapphire plenty of nights—and mornings—when he was taking care of important business.
“Think you need to fuckin’ leave,” Saint grumbled.
“Like I said, didn’t come here for Sapphire. Came here hoping to get a taste of what you’re selling.”
“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”
“Yeah? Damn shame, then. A buddy of mine said this is the best place to find party supplies.”
Saint stared at him and said nothing for the longest fucking time, thinking he could make Rez squirm.
That wasn’t happening. Saint was a puffed-up piece of shit who was much more of a badass in his mind than in reality. He had no problem beating up someone smaller—like Mel—but if he went toe to toe with someone his size or larger, he’d end up folding like a lawn chair.
Finn had proved that. Not that Rez knew anything about that…
Saint tipped his head back and looked down his nose at Rez. “You a pig?”