Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
"You're a good dancer." I tap my hand on his chest. "I like dancing with you."
"What's the problem?" Barry ignores my compliment. "I don't understand what the problem is."
"There's an issue with her identification." The woman gestures towards my clutch purse.
"What issue?" Barry's voice is even louder now. I definitely have a headache.
"Shh." I bring my finger to my lips. "You're so loud."
The woman in the dark clothes leans close to us both. "We have reason to believe she used fake identification to get into the club."
Well, shit. I am so fucking busted right now.
I pull my clutch closer. That fake ID cost me a lot and I need it at least for the next ten days until I'm actually twenty-one. I don't want this woman to take it away from me. What if I decide I need a drink after work one day?
Who am I kidding? After tonight, I'm never drinking again.
"Her ID is legit," Barry says.
"Don't say legit." I grimace as I look up into his face and shake my head from side-to-side. "It's not cool, Barry. You're like over that hill, you know what I mean?"
The woman talking to us stifles a laugh.
"Give me that ID." Barry grabs hold of my clutch so quickly that I don't have time to react. A lot of that has to do with the two, wait, it was three vodkas and sodas I've had since I got here.
"I want it back." I try to yank the bag back into my hands. "That's mine."
"Sir, you need to step back." A man dressed in a dark suit is standing next to us now. I recognize his bald head. I saw it when I first came into the club. He was greeting some people at the door.
"He took my bag," I whine. "Tell him to give it back."
I pull harder on the clutch but Barry's got it in a death grip. He's shaking his head and gritting his teeth. "I'll show you that her ID is real. She's at least twenty-five. Look at her."
I pull harder. "You think I'm twenty-five? Really? I look twenty-five to you?"
"At least." Barry pushes the bald headed man aside as he tugs on my clutch. "Just tell them the ID is real so we can go to the back."
"No." I shake my head as I let the clutch go. "It's not real. I'm only twenty. I won't be twenty-one for another ten days."
I don't see Barry's expression as he falls on his ass. My eyes are glued to my clutch and as it flies out of his grasp and through the air, I say a silent prayer that the broken clasp will hold tight.
It doesn't.
All I can do is cover my eyes as the contents of my clutch spill out and into the view of virtually everyone in the room who has stopped to stare at the commotion we caused. I hear the faints gasps and giggles as my phone, the six condoms, two ten dollar bills and the fake ID tumble to the floor right next to the brand new shiny handcuffs I brought with me.
***
"You look like shit, Isla."
If I'd bothered to look in a mirror today, I'd probably see it for myself. I've avoided it on purpose. In fact, this is the first time I've been up all day and I only got as far as the sofa.
I'd fallen into my bed right after I was dropped off. The woman from the club had not only walked me to the curb, she'd climbed into the front seat of a dark sedan that stopped on the street after she'd ushered me into the back.
I had given my address when asked, never questioning why I wasn't tossed from the club to fend for myself. It wasn't until I woke this morning that I realized that she had also helped me into the building and stayed with me until I closed my apartment door after thanking her for everything.
"I had too much to drink last night." I take a sip from the water bottle I've been holding in my hand for the past thirty minutes. "Do you have any aspirin?"
"I have something that will help." Cassia marches across the living room towards where she dropped her purse when she got home five minutes ago. "Did you have a date? Where did you go that you got so loaded?"
I went to a kinky club because I like to be handcuffed and spanked until my ass is on fire, Cass. What did you do last night?
"No date," I confess. "I haven't met anyone since I've been in New York."
Her brows perk up as she fishes a bottle of ibuprofen from out of her purse. "You haven't met anyone? I guess that makes sense. You work in a lingerie store. It must be all women, all the time."