Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“I need you to watch her,” I say and step toward the door.
Ginger tosses her blonde curls behind her shoulder. “What in the--”
I cock a brow. “Just watch her.”
Ginger shrugs, tapping her brush against her palm as she cocks her hip to the side.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I say, stepping out. I walk out into the club and take a seat in front of the stage, settling back as I glance at my watch. The lights flicker and one of the dancer struts out onto the platform, spotting me and winking.
I keep glancing at my watch as girl after girl comes out on stage. The fucker I’m supposed to meet is thirty minutes late. With each passing minute, I’m growing more agitated.
Just as a song comes to an end, I feel a tap on my shoulder and look over it to find one of the club bouncers.
“The guy’s here. Up at the bar.” He points. “Red shirt.”
I glance back at the bar and spot the man I’m supposed to meet. He’s leaned against the bar, nervously bouncing his leg. He’s scrawny and dressed in a golf shirt and slacks. He looks like a fucking tool. I exhale and rise, squaring my shoulders as I push through the crowd.
I stop behind him, and he must feel my presence because he slowly turns, his head tilting up to look at me. “Uh...I’m, I’m…” he stumbles over his word and swallows. “JP?”
“Yeah.” I feel my jaw twitch.
“I’m Big Ole’ Boy--”
I shake my head and glower at him. “Don’t ever use your handle like that, dipshit.”
His eyes widen and he quickly nods. “Yeah, sorry.”
I clasp my hand over his shoulder and squeeze harder than I should. “You got my money?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope. I sit on a barstool and drag the envelope across the bartop. I pull the flap open and dump the cash onto the counter. The man’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he nervously glances around the bar like he expects a SWAT team to swarm in at any second.
“Relax,” I groan as I spread out the cash and count it. I lock my eyes on him, glaring. “You fuck around like that again and make me wait on my money and I’ll cut your fucking balls off. Got it?”
He nods, cautiously backing away from the bar.
“And don’t run late to another appointment with me,” I continue to hold his stare as I pull a cigarette from my pocket and light it. “It’s fucking rude,” I snarl, smoke billowing from my lips. The guy’s just standing here frozen in place looking at me like I’m the fucking Wizard of Oz. “Fucking go!” I shoo him with my hand and he quickly turns to leave.
Pinching the cigarette between my lips, I mumble, “Dumbass,” as I stack the bills together, I glance up to the stage and watch one of the girls swing around the pole as I pull my wallet from my pocket. I take another puff and cram the money inside as I make my way back to the dressing room.
I have the cigarette halfway to my lips when I open the door, and I freeze in place. Tor’s sprawled out on the sofa, legs draped over the arm, with a near empty bottle of tequila clutched in her hand, and a drunk grin plastered to her face. She glances up at me and rolls her eyes as she waves her hands through the air. “Dum, dum, duuum!”
I pull in a long drag and arch a brow at her. “Really?” I ask stepping toward her and snatching the bottle. “Who the fuck gave her liquor?” I look accusingly around the room at the girls who are all giggling. I drop my smoke into an empty glass and shake my head.
One of them shrugs. “Coco thought it’d be fun to see a British chick drunk.”
Slapping my palm over my forehead, I groan. “For fuck’s sake.”
“You need to improve your vocabulary.” Tor slurs. “It’s always fuck this, fuck that. So angry.” She shakes her head.
Coco walks past me, swaying her hips and smiling. “She’s funny. I like her, she’s got some spunk,” she says as she leaves the room.
Tor grins. This is going to be a fucking ball ache for sure. “All right. Come on. Time to go.”
She staggers to her feet and stumbles away from me. “Nooo!”
Is she trying to fucking run? Fucking hell
I exhale, preparing to throw her over my shoulder and cart her drunk-ass out, when the announcer comes over the speakers. “And please welcome the lovely Miss Coco Chanel to the stage.”
Tor jumps up, squealing. “Oh, I promised Coco I’d watch her dance. I need some money to put in her panties.” She darts to the door, her shoulder slamming into the frame as she runs out.