Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
The day goes like that. I bust my ass for bad tips, make some jokes with Kia, watch Monique and Sarah dance, and let the time pass. Martin, the manager, a short bald guy that’s perpetually nervous and twitchy, corners me near the bar around five and shoves a stack of money into my hands.
“What the heck is this?” I ask, staring at the tight bundle of hundreds. I watch the bartender Bradley practically salivate at the sight and quickly tuck them into my meager top, right between my boobs, which doesn’t stop him from looking, unfortunately.
“Boss wanted me to give you that.” He shakes his head like he’s mystified. “I don’t know what you did to that man, but he’s got you working afternoons for a while, and now he’s throwing cash at you like you’re the freaking Pope selling free passes to heaven.”
“Maybe I’ve just got a great personality.”
He chuckles and punches my shoulder. “Yeah, you’re great, kid. Definitely likes you for the jokes, not for the tits and ass.”
“You’re such a creep, Martin.”
“I know, doll, I know, it’s why I’m a manager at a fucking strip club. Anyway, Calvino’s waiting for you in private room three, so bust your hump and go say hello. And make sure he knows I gave you that money. I don’t want him giving me shit.”
Bradley drops a whiskey on my tray with a wink and I roll my eyes at him as I hurry into the back, waving to Kia as I go so she knows where I’ll be. My shift’s nearly done and it’s the lull before the night rush, so she won’t be too slammed if Calvino keeps me busy with something else.
My heart’s racing when I step into the private room. I don’t know why—I can’t be sure if it’s him that makes me feel this way, or if it’s that I haven’t been back here since the little incident with his brother a few days ago. My palms sweat as I approach and set the glass down on the small black coffee table.
He looks up from his phone and raises his eyebrows.
“Martin said to tell you that I got this.” I pull out the wad of cash. “What’s the deal?”
“Spending money,” he says, still staring at me. “Did you get my message?”
“I don’t have a phone on the floor, remember?”
He snorts and picks up the whiskey. “I thought all you girls ignored that rule.”
“Apparently, I’m the only decent person in this whole place then.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He sips his drink and tilts his head. “We’re going to dinner tonight.”
I go very still and a million things rush through my brain, but only one thing comes out of my mouth: “Why?”
He laughs and takes another long sip like he needs the stuff to get through a conversation with me. Ass. “You’re my girlfriend now. I take my girlfriends out to dinner.”
“Have you ever had an actual girlfriend before or do you mean the girls you fuck and never call back?”
“The girls I fuck and never call back. But you get to be the rarest of them all, the girl I don’t fuck and yet am stuck with.”
“You make it sound so wonderful.”
He rolls his eyes and gestures at a long black garment bag draped over the arm of the couch at the far end. “You need to get dressed. Can’t have you out looking like that.”
“We’re leaving now?”
“In a little while, but I’m letting you end your shift early. Go tell Kia and get your ass back in here.”
“Give me the dress, I’ll change in the back.”
He stares at me with a wicked smile. “No, little thief. You’ll get changed right here where I can see you.”
A flush creeps into my cheeks and I glare at him. I take a couple deep breaths and keep myself from saying the first thing that comes to mind (like fucking hell you will, you goddamn pervert) because I know I’ll only dig this grave that much deeper if I let myself go off. He knows exactly what he’s doing and he’s very aware of how I’m supposed to respond, but I’m not going to give him the pleasure.
This game is about getting what we want—and it is a game, no question about it. The power struggle between us might be the difference between him half-heartedly trying to help me with Riley or going all-in when he gets what he needs. I can complain and whine and let him know that, yes, he gets under my skin, and yes, he pisses me off, or I can pretend like I don’t give a damn and mess with him right back.
I turn on my heel and leave.
Bastard. That stupid freaking bastard.
Kia doesn’t seem surprised when I tell her I’m clocking out. “Lucky bitch. Six drunk college kids just came in and I’m pretty sure they’re too young to drink.”