Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
I nod quickly. Got it. I won’t be passing judgment on his mother.
“The owners were creeps,” he continues. “Customers were pigs. The girls all stuck together, though. There was no competitive bullshit. In a way, they were family. So when Mom was on stage, whoever was in the dressing room looked out for me.”
“That was nice of them.” Wow, that sounds lame, but I’m not sure what else to say. I can’t imagine thinking it’s okay to let a child hang out backstage at a strip club. But I don’t want to insult Dex’s mother when he already explained she had no other options.
“It wasn’t ideal,” he says as if he read my mind. “We run Crystal Ball as clean as possible and I still wouldn’t be okay with our girls bringing in their kids. But we also pay them fairly so they can afford sitters or whatever.”
“Where is your mom now?” Please don’t say she still dances.
He glances down and briefly closes his eyes. “She died when I was in high school. She worked so hard to get herself out of the life, then couldn’t even enjoy her success.”
“I’m so sorry.” God, we have more in common than I realized. I reach out and rest my hand over his. He closes his fingers around mine. “What happened to you then?”
“My grandparents took me in.” He shakes his head. “But I already hated them for forcing my mom to struggle for so many years. So, I was a bit of an asshole, you know?”
“You’d also just lost your mother,” I say gently. I understand all too well that desire to lash out at the world after losing people close to you.
His jaw sets in a firm, unforgiving line. “I met Grinder and Rock. They brought me into the club. My brothers were there for me…” he clears his throat, “when I needed them. The MC became my family.”
“Chosen family can be more powerful than blood,” I murmur.
His eyes widen and he nods slowly. “Few people understand that on a deep level.”
“I…I don’t have a lot of either—blood or chosen family. Libby’s all I have left. And a few friends who’ve been there for me.”
“You learn fast who your real friends are when life goes sideways.”
“True,” I whisper. “Friends of my parents said they’d always ‘be there’ for us but after the funeral, we rarely heard from them again.”
“That’s rough.” He hesitates as if he has a question.
My stomach clenches in anticipation. I can’t handle talking about my parents’ deaths. Not tonight.
DEX
“Was that too much?” Emily asks quickly. “Did I ask too many questions?”
I cup her cheek, staring into her anxious eyes. Is she trying to deflect attention away from talking about her parents? I wouldn’t force her to tell me something she’s not ready to talk about. Besides, I’m too fucking happy she seems to be accepting everything I’ve shared with her tonight.
“No. Not at all,” I answer. “It means a lot to me that you want to know. That you want to make things work.”
She bites her lip.
“You can always ask me anything, Emily.” I brush my thumb over her cheek.
“Is it your…I’m not sure how to put this…” She glances away.
“You’re not going to offend me, I promise,” I encourage.
“Is this what you plan to do with the rest of your life? Manage a…manage Crystal Ball?”
Interesting question. I haven’t given it a lot of thought. “If that’s what my club needs me to do.”
Do I see myself doing this for the next however many years? The truth, painful as it may be, is that I haven’t given a fuck about my future since my wife died. Earn money for the club. Ride the wind. Do whatever my club needs. Those are goals I’ve had for years now.
With Emily, I visualize something beyond tomorrow.
“I like what I do,” I finally answer. “And I’m good at it. It brings money into the MC.” More like we launder money through Crystal Ball but that’s not a sentence I’d utter outside of the war room.
She tilts her head slightly and nods. Is that a hint of disappointment turning the corners of her mouth down or am I reading too much into it?
Would having her see what I actually do on a nightly basis help or hurt us? “I meant what I said. You can visit me there. Whenever you want.”
A hint of playfulness returns to her face. Amusement in her eyes. A sly tilt to her lips. “What does a woman wear to visit her boyfriend at a strip club?”
“My woman?” I sweep my gaze over her. “Clothes. Lots of clothes.” I curl my hand behind her neck and drag my thumb over her throat. “Turtleneck.”
Whatever remaining doubts she had seem to melt. “Just a turtleneck? No pants?”
“Come here.” I slip my hand from her neck to her waist and tug her into my lap. “One leg here.” I pat the outside of my thigh. She gets the hint quickly, straddling my lap and resting her butt on my knees.