Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
“Hey, Sadie, those two guys from last weekend are here talking to Bones,” Cherry tells her when she enters the room.
I look over at Sadie and ask, “The two who each gave you five grand?”
“Yep,” Cherry answers for her.
“God, they were so fucking fine.” Sadie sighs, slumping back in her chair.
I took last weekend off because of James. We live together but are currently in the middle of a breakup. I can’t get the bastard to move out of my place. I told him to pack his shit and go. He cried. Begged me to let him stay. Said he had nowhere else to go after he lost his job. That was six months ago. He prefers to live off me instead of going out and getting one on his own.
“They’re getting the room again. I just saw them walk to the back.” Cherry winks at Sadie.
“Hey, Luna, Benny is here,” Bentley calls out, entering with her G-string and garter belt overflowing with bills from just getting off the main stage.
“Thanks.” Sucking down what’s left of my Red Bull, I give Sadie a wink and walk out into the club. The music is loud, and the lights flash. I’m used to it by now. I’ve been working here for the past two years. I was working at another club here in Vegas when Glass opened. This one was just better all around—bigger and classier and my bosses are amazing.
You have to audition to be an entertainer in Nevada and get a license. Thankfully, when I ran from Carnage, I had help. I was given a new name and identity. Without that, I’m not sure where I’d be.
When I decided to start a new life, a stripper was the only option. You get to be someone else. Stage name, dress-up, and it’s like a girls’ night every night while you take money from men as you drink. If there’s anything better, let me know.
Plus, when you’re running from the Lords, you have to be assumed dead. If not, they will find you. I might have killed Saint, but the others will still be looking for me. And a Lord believes in blood for blood.
I started taking drugs to help me forget…what I gave up. What I ended up losing. And him. It didn’t work. But I realized that it did help me sleep, and in my dreams, I was able to live a different life. One where he wasn’t a Lord, and I wasn’t the coward who shot him. We were able to live happily ever after like you hear in fairy tales.
I walk up the three stairs and over to the round table where the guy sits. Benny always sits in the same section, same table, and orders the same thing to drink. He looks up from his phone to see me, and he swallows.
“Hey, handsome.” I plop down next to him.
Reaching over, he slides his hand between my legs and pulls mine to rest over his jean-clad thighs, across his lap. His lips near my ear, his voice rumbles. “Fuck, you look hot tonight, sweetheart.”
I still cringe whenever someone calls me that. It reminds me of Saint. I don’t know if I killed him, but he still has so much power over me it’s pathetic. At times, I think killing myself would have been easier than living a life without him. I wish he would have just killed me when I asked him. I ended up losing everything anyway.
I muster up a fake smile. “You look pretty good yourself.”
He didn’t dress up, but I didn’t expect him to. He’s a regular. He’s been coming into Glass to see me since opening night. I slept with him three months later for the first time. We’ve never been a couple or anything like that. He comes in regularly and sees me. Every now and then, he rents a suite in one of the hotels on the Strip, and I spend the night with him.
“How long before you go on stage?” he asks, his hand softly running up and over my upper thigh at the top of my thigh-highs.
“Thirty minutes,” I say.
He gives me a kind smile just as a server comes over to us. He orders himself a glass of scotch and me a Red Bull and vodka. I need another energy drink and for this ecstasy to kick in.
Technically, in the state of Nevada, if a strip club serves alcohol, the dancers aren’t allowed to be nude. But if you can serve alcohol, the club is more lucrative. So Glass doesn’t follow the law. But when you have two bosses like I do, they’re bound to bend the rules to their benefit. They’ve either paid someone off or just don’t give a fuck.
THIRTY-THREE
ASHTYN
Forty-five minutes later, I walk off the third stage, pulling the bills from my G-string, and head down the steps off the end and back into the locker room.