Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
She was going to break her damn neck.
Dawg whacked his long-time bartender, Cubby, on the back and gave him a chin lift. “Got the girls’ music list?”
“Yeah,” Cubby grunted.
“Cocoa’s up next,” Dawg told him then rounded the bar and headed in the direction Emma disappeared. “Text me if you need somethin’. Gonna be busy for a bit.”
“Gotcha, boss.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dawn scoring a private dance on the other side of the stage. She held one finger up at him as he passed by.
One dance.
Cheap fucker.
Dawg lifted his chin in acknowledgment and, when he hit the back hallway, he saw Moose headed his way. “Dawn’s got one on the line for a song. Green room. Got me?”
“Gotcha, boss.”
The heavyset prospect continued past him to escort Dawn and her customer back to one of the private rooms. And then stand watch outside the door.
He needed more prospects working at Heaven’s Angels. Especially ones like Moose. Though not super tall, the man held some bulk that could be intimidating. He also was a hard worker. He’d have to talk to Z about trying to find more DAMC recruits. They were cheap labor versus hiring people off the street.
He continued down the hallway and pushed through a door that had a sign on it that read “private.” That lead to another short hallway and the first door on the right was the girls’ dressing room.
He shoved open the door and walked in, not giving two shits who was in there.
He’d seen them all naked countless times on stage, so they didn’t care if he came into the dressing room. They couldn’t be a prude and be a stripper...
Cocoa was putting the finishing touches on her makeup.
“Gotta be on stage, woman. Can’t have no one on stage. Get out there,” he barked.
Cocoa took her time as she finished applying her lipstick, rubbed her lips together, put the cap on the tube, threw it on the counter and then gave Dawg the middle-finger salute. “I’m going. It’s not like there’s a crowd out there. Probably be dancing for next to nothing.”
“If you wanna dance later when you’re gonna be rakin’ it in, you better get your ass out there right now.”
“Whatever, Dawg.”
“Don’t fuckin’ whatever me.”
Cocoa stepped away from the mirror and put her hands on her hips.
“Hold up. Let me see.” Dawg inspected her from top to toe. The woman had the skin tone of her stage name. She was a rich chocolate brown with the biggest natural tits in his stable. Her ass was hard to ignore, too. She’d been working for Dawg for years and the woman knew what she was doing and made good money at it. “Lookin’ good, baby.”
Cocoa smiled. “I know it. You don’t have to tell me.” She approached him and lowered her voice. “She’s in the bathroom crying. I tried to give her some pointers.” She shook her head. “Don’t think she’s cut out for this, darlin’.”
“No shit. Told her that. Figured she needed to find out for herself.”
Cocoa reached out, grabbed his dick through his jeans and squeezed. “Mmm mmm. Say it every time... hung like a brotha, darlin’.”
Dawg grinned. “Am a brother.”
“Not that type of brotha. Shame you don’t do your girls.”
Dawg grunted. “Get the fuck out on stage.”
Cocoa laughed. “One of these days, I’m gonna get me some of that.”
“An’ your ol’ man would kick my ass.”
She winked and headed toward the door. “He doesn’t mind sharing,” she tossed over her shoulder.
“Right.” Her husband was about five-six and maybe one hundred fifty pounds soaking wet. He was not kicking Dawg’s ass anytime soon, but he still had to give her shit since she was happily married and would never cheat on her man no matter what she said.
He shook his head as he watched the door close behind her, then sighed. He glanced around the room and saw the women’s clothes, shoes, makeup and all kinds of shit tossed around. It looked like a hurricane hit the dressing area.
“Fuckin’ goddamn.” He shook his head again and carefully headed through the disaster area toward the restroom that was dedicated to the dancers.
Not bothering to knock, he shoved the door open and stopped dead.
“It’s occupied,” came the tearful yell. Emma was perched on the closed toilet seat, her head hanging down, her face in her hands as her body shook.
“Don’t give a shit,” Dawg grumbled back and closed the door behind him.
She glanced up, her mouth hanging open. It was not a good look for her. The thick mascara she had applied earlier had caused black smears down her cheeks. Her lipstick had been chewed off her bottom lip. Her eyes were bloodshot and still rimmed with tears.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
She had thrown on a silky red robe that was way too big for her and she looked like a little girl sitting on the commode as she cried.