Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“What’ll you have?” he asks. “I ordered shots for the table.”
“That’s fine.”
I slide into the booth. Beefer stands guard at the end where I would rather be.
Cesaro lights up another smoke and surveys the crowd. “What do you think of her over there? The girl in blue?”
“Hot,” I lie. I can’t even see the girl in blue. The bar’s dark and the strobe lights discolor everyone.
“Yeah, but not as fine as the blonde over there in the corner. Look at that ass. I’d like her to twerk all over my dick.”
I find that Cesaro doesn’t need any more from me than a few grunts of pretend agreement.
I sag against the booth’s leather and stare out at the dance floor. This is my world, but I can’t let it be Bitsy’s. Whatever I do in the future, I have to make sure she’s never prey for men like Cesaro.
* * *
“You mind if I use your table for a sec?” A thin girl sets a plastic cup on the table.
“Go ahead.”
“Hot in here, isn’t it?” She waves a hand in front of her face.
“Yup.” Sweat is making my T-shirt stick to my back. The girls wearing their tiny dresses have the right idea. If you’re going to be jammed into a giant room with hundreds of other people, there’s no point in wearing lots of clothes. I eye the dance floor where Cesaro is sandwiched between two women. “What’s the capacity of this place?”
Beefer’s too busy downing another beer to answer. At this rate, I’ll be driving us back to Marjory’s. I turn to the girl. “What do you think?”
She smiles and bats her eyelashes. “About what? About how hot it is in here?” Her hand runs over the bare shoulder closest to me.
I shift to the side to avoid her fingers and tilt my head toward Beefer. “How much longer?”
“A while, brother.”
I clench my jaw. We’ve been here at least two hours. In that time, Cesaro has racked up a five-figure bar tab; tried to storm the DJ booth to play “some real fucking music”; and had me stand outside the men’s room while he fucked a club girl who looked like she’d made this trek more than once tonight. After having the coke bitch, as he referred to her, he started hunting the club for the perfect girl to take home. He’s come up empty-handed so far. Like I told him, not too many virgins hanging around a nightclub known to cater to the criminal element of the city.
I survey the crowd. Maybe if I find him a girl, we can all leave. I’m not a fan of clubs in general. I don’t like being around unfriendlies without my piece. And I haven’t spent any time with Bitsy today. I worked all day at Marjory’s sorting shit with Beefer, and then I had to come back out to ride herd over Cesaro’s dumb, horny ass.
“So you want to dance?”
“She’s talking to you.” Beefer nudges me.
“Huh?” There’s a table of six girls about twenty feet away. Odds are that there’s one shy girl in the group willing to get down with Cesaro’s cheap brand of seduction.
“She wants to know if you want to dance?” Beefer leans in front of me. “Don’t be offended by clueless Joe here. He doesn’t get out much. Leka, the girl’s talking to you.”
I twist to face the girl, who’s drawn back, one hand on her hip, looking at me like my elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor. What we were talking about? Oh, right. The temp in this shithole. “Yeah, it’s hot in here,” I say, ignoring the dancing shit.
“She asked if you wanted to dance,” Beefer unhelpfully points out.
“No. How shy are you?”
“Shy?” Her confusion deepens at the same rate as my irritation.
“Yeah, you see that guy over there between the two blondes? That’s Cesaro. He’s got a shit ton of money and wants to get laid tonight. How about it?”
“Jesus. Are you a pimp or something?” She grabs her drink. “Your friend is fucking weird.”
That last bit is directed toward Beefer before she stomps off.
He looks at me with suspicion. “Did you just do that on purpose?”
I pick up my water and take a long draw, letting my silence talk for me.
“Fuck you, you stupid bastard.” He laughs as he says it, but I get the sense that part of him believes it. “You coulda banged that chick. She was eye fucking you so hard I was getting a woody.”
“Then you should’ve dived in.” I catch an ice cube in between my back teeth and set my plastic cup down.
“She didn’t want me.”
“She wanted to get chased and then laid. I didn’t feel like doing either.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself, playing possum like you are.”
“It’s my choice.” I shake the cup and watch the ice cubes clink against the side of the cup.