I wonder why Carlos never mentioned this to me.
“He’s barely around, preferring to be behind the scenes, which is a shame because he is damn fine.” She bites her knuckle playfully.
“Well, I’m steering clear of men, so whether he’s here or not makes no difference to me.”
The bitterness in my tone hints of a reason for my distaste toward the opposite sex, but Kath doesn’t press for now. We exit my dressing room and walk down the corridor. The lights have dimmed, and the dance music pounding from the main room indicates that business is in full swing.
My heart is beating wildly; I’m nervous to be performing in a new club. The reality of what I’m doing hits home, and I suddenly question my decision. Have I done the right thing?
Now isn’t the time to second-guess myself because when Kath parts the red velvet curtain and takes my hand, we are no longer Lily and Kath—we’re Tigerlily and Dallas. The place is packed, which is surprising since it’s still relatively early. But I feed off the energy in the air because, ironically, these assholes are my ticket out of here.
Dallas escorts me to my table and smirks. It seems my company for the evening is a group of men celebrating a bachelor party. It’s no secret men out celebrating the end of an era for their friend results in great tips. So when one of them stands and offers me his hand to help me onto the table, I accept with a sultry smile.
Even though I loathe dancing to pop music, I find the beat and let loose, instantly luring the men in. They sit tall, watching me closely as I use my body to entice them. With the alcohol and good times flowing freely, so does the money. The men reach into their pockets, and I mask my surprise at seeing their large wads of cash secured with gold money clips. Instead of dollar bills, they toss tens and twenties at my feet. It seems everyone here is a George.
The sight has me forgetting why I’m here, and when I look into the hungry eyes of the men around me, they soon replace the blue green kiss from hell. Bull is part of the reason I’m here, and in some ways, I should thank him.
If he wasn’t such a jerk, I wouldn’t have left, but when I see the stack of twenties on the table, I’m glad I met him because he’s made me realize my true worth.
For the next twenty minutes, I give my audience a show they’ll never forget. To them, I’m untouchable. A goddess who is perfect. And at this moment, I am. I forget my troubles and the fact I have feelings, yes feelings, for someone who sees me as nothing. But no more. I’m done being runner-up.
When the song is over, the men stand and clap loudly as wolf whistles fill my ears. Compared to the surrounding tables, mine is covered with a large amount of money, hinting I was a hit. I give the men a sassy wave goodbye as Carlos said I wasn’t to gather my tips like some common whore. And I like that.
But when someone offers me their hand to help me down from the table, and I lock eyes with him, my newfound confidence takes a nosedive. It’s Andre. And it appears he works here too.
Not wanting to ruin the façade, I smile and accept his hand. He doesn’t say anything to me, but he doesn’t need to. The fact he has fading bruising on his face and his nose looks like it was recently broken does all the talking.
Once my feet hit the floor, I yank my hand from Andre’s and make my way through the club. Every part of me is trembling because I suddenly remember when I’ve looked into those eyes before. I part the red velvet curtain and mask my hysteria until I dive into the safety of my dressing room.
Slamming the door shut, I lean against it, panting loudly and pressing a hand over my racing heart. I’m transported back to the time when my heart was beating just as wildly as it is now…and that was the night I was attacked.
At the time, my attacker’s eyes looked familiar. I brushed it off as nothing, but now, I realize I should have listened to my gut. My attacker was known to me. I just didn’t know it until now.
My masked assailant finally has a name, and that name is Andre. So now, the question I’m faced with is…why?
Bull
My plan was supposed to be simple—find the men who killed my brother and make them pay. One has paid with his life, and another is on the way to suffering the same fate because it turns out I can be quite charming when I want to be.
It didn’t take long for me to win Kong over.
We both wanted something from the other—he wanted me to make him rich, and me, I wanted him dead. We both needed the other to fulfill our wants. It’s just too bad for him that he won’t live long enough to see his dreams come true.
Having a drink with my brother’s killer is as stupid as it sounds. But to get what I want, I need to be a chameleon, which is why I’m sitting in some shady ass bar downtown, waiting for Kong. It’s been two weeks since I won my first fight, and since then, I’ve won four more.
My opponents have been pathetic competition, or maybe they haven’t been because whenever I see Kong, a rage overtakes me, and it’s like I become possessed. I need to destroy anything in my path. And when he enters the bar, those murderous feelings overthrow me, but I reach for my beer, needing something to do other than strangling him with my hands.
He flags the pretty waitress down, hinting he wants his usual, whatever the fuck that may be. “Hercules,” he playfully teases as he takes a seat across from me in the booth.
This nickname is one he’s dubbed for me as though we’re friends. Every time he uses it, I want to rip out his tongue and feed it to him, but I suck it up and smirk.
“Sup, brother.” It kills me to refer to him this way, but its double meaning is done with intent. It’s because of my brother that I’m here.
“Sorry I’m late. You’re lucky you ain’t married anymore.” He turns over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for the waitress.
“Fucking A,” I reply, keeping to my story of leaving my family behind in Seattle. “Bitches are only good for one thing.”
Kong bursts into husky laughter while bile rises. “Amen.”
The waitress places a bottle of beer onto the table, smiling when Kong tips her a twenty. “Keep them comin’, sweetheart.”
She nods shyly while Kong checks out her ass as she walks away. “What I would do with a piece of cherry pie like that,” he hums, licking his thick lips.
I chuckle in response, but I’m far from laughing on the inside.
“Thanks for meeting me. I wanted to talk to you.”
I nod, hinting for him to continue.
“Boss is impressed with you. And so am I. He wants you on his team, full time.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask, leaning casually back into the booth.
Kong looks around, ensuring no one is listening. “The next fight, it’s scheduled in some shithole strip club. The Pink Oyster.” I keep my cool. “You know of it?”
“No,” I reply calmly.
Kong takes a long sip of beer before leaning over the table. “I know of it real well. The boss is in financial trouble, and he’s offered to help her out.”
Keeping my poker face in check, I ask, “What does that mean?”
“The stupid bitch has no idea.” He snickers while I clench my bottle of beer. “Boss has plans for that place. He is going to invest and help her out of debt, but in reality, he’s doing so because he needs a business to help keep his books legal.”