As if this fucking woman could shock me more. Any other woman wouldn’t fucking dare—all too scared to say anything that could upset me. But Avery, Jesus. Where the hell did she come from?
“I thought last night it was fuck you.”
She snorted, getting to her feet and climbing out of the confines of the picnic table. “It’s still fuck you.” I jumped up, grabbing her arm and tugging her back against my chest before she could escape, my fingers threading into her hair. She smirked up at me, her teeth pulling on her bottom lip. “Today’s fuck you just means something a little different.”
“Mmm?” I hummed, pulling the strands tightly and enjoying the soft gasp from her lips. “And what’s different about it?”
I talked a big game about addiction.
How I never gave in.
How I managed to keep away from it.
But when it came to Avery, I had to wonder whether I was really as strong as I thought I was because I was finding it harder and harder to let go.
“Why don’t you take me home, and I’ll show you?”
AVERY
My fingers traced the line of the book I was reading.
It was fucking pointless.
I’d read the same sentence over eight times, and I still had no fucking idea what it was trying to say. “Goddamn,” I cursed, slamming it shut and pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Take a break.”
I didn’t even have to look up, his stern order something I’d become accustomed to ignoring. “You’re like four staff members short tonight,” I informed him while filling another three glasses of beer and putting them on Angel’s tray for when she got back from delivering the last round. “I leave now, and people are going to be waiting God only knows how long for their drinks.”
“And if you don’t study, you’re going to fail that fucking test tomorrow,” Shotgun growled, bracing his hands on the bar and leaning in. “So, get me a drink, then go take a break for an hour and study.”
Reasons why I shouldn’t tell him these things. Exhibit A right there.
“I’ll get you a drink,” Izzy chirped happily as she skipped back behind the bar, a little too much pep in her step for me. “We’re having this competition to make a new signature cocktail for Dynasty. I want you to try it. Tell me what you think.”
I smirked, my hand already reaching for a glass, scooping some ice into it before filling it with Coke and sliding it across the bar in front of him. All while he was still looking at Izzy’s turned back with a cocked eyebrow. He looked down at the drink before turning his attention to me. “Thanks, baby,” he rasped with a nod, taking the glass and walking back to a table at the edge of the bar to join Shake, Ripley, and Tyler. My interest was piqued at seeing Ty sitting at the table with them. His usual job at Empire always consisted of watching the floor.
“I was getting him a drink.” I looked up to find Izzy, her hand on her hip and her eyes narrowed. “What the hell, Avery?”
I laughed, grabbing a cloth and wiping at the bar. “Shotgun doesn’t drink, babe,” I told her straight up. “You give him alcohol in a drink without him knowing, and he drinks it, you’re going to be fired. Or worse.”
Her face dropped, her eyes flickering between the club president and me as if she was wondering whether she should run over there and begin to plead for her life.
These girls had to learn sometime.
I laughed softly to myself as I slammed my book shut and snatched it off the counter, making a quick escape from behind the bar and into the back room where we kept supplies. People would come and go, but at least it would give me some peace, just enough to get my head around this one chapter.
I cleared off a small table, pulling up a tiny stool and opening the pages again.
I tugged my highlighter from my pocket, ready to attack—
“Why the hell does no one answer their phone these days!” Meyah flung the door open, cursing like a sailor under her breath as she stepped inside the tiny supply room. “I swear…”
“Problem?” I questioned, wrenching the cap of my highlighter off with my teeth.
She jumped a little, her hand on her heart. “Jesus, sorry, Ave. I didn’t know you were in here,” she apologized, sucking in a deep breath and running her fingers through her hair. “Both my dancers called in sick. I have a crowd of people out there and no dancers on stage.”
Empire wasn’t technically classed as a strip club, though there were always girls on the stage dancing at certain times of the night—more often than not with a pole. The girls never got naked, but they did take their clothes off, so call it what you will, I guess.
The VIP area upstairs offered more private shows where the girls could be tipped.
Downstairs, the girls were simply paid extra for their time.
It had become almost part of the club’s aesthetic. Something they were known for and that drew in customers, so having them not there wasn’t great for business. I chewed on my pen cap for a second, trying to stop myself from saying anything, but in the end, I couldn’t help it. “You having trouble finding someone?”
“Understatement,” she groaned, reaching for the sparkly outfit that was tossed over her shoulder, shaking it in the air. “If I can’t find someone in like five minutes, I’m going to be getting up there myself.”
I choked out a laugh. “Yeah, okay. And when Juliet asks what happened to her mom, I’ll say, ‘Mommy thought she could get on stage and wiggle her booty, so Daddy killed her.’”
Her nose crinkled. “Yeah, it didn’t go so great last time I tried.”
Getting to my feet and shaking my head. “It’s fine,” I told her, reaching for the ponytail holder that was keeping my hair pulled back from my face and yanking it lose. I held my hand out for the outfit she was still gripping onto like a lifeline. It was a skin-tight silver mini dress covered in tassels and a shit ton of glitter to fancy it up. “I’ll do it.”
She paused, her brow pulling together for a second. “Um…”
“No, um,” I ordered, knowing she was overthinking things, just watching her mind tick over. “You need a dancer… I so happen to dance.”
Yes, I should be studying.
No, it really wasn’t my problem.
But it wasn’t in me not to try and help when there was a problem that I could easily solve. I didn’t get on stage very often anymore. Not that I didn’t offer, but I had this sneaking suspicion that a certain someone who owned this place had informed Meyah to stop putting my name on the performance list.
Joke’s on him, I guess.
She pursed her lips, still not answering for a few seconds, but finally throwing her hands in the air. “Dammit! I’m desperate, and you’re hot,” she announced, tossing the sparkly outfit at me. “If anyone asks, I objected to this wholeheartedly.”
Meyah turned her back, pressing her hand against the door as I stripped off my denim shorts and the black Empire t-shirt I had tied in a knot to the side. I had to wiggle my entire body into the outfit while Meyah turned back, and we both tugged at the hem.
It covered almost half of my ass cheeks.
No imagination needed.