Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
What I don’t think is crazy is my rush to get ready because the card says free alcohol and free transportation. Worcester is over an hour away, so whoever is throwing this little get together wants me there badly if they’re sending someone to pick me up.
I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed when an Uber driver pulls up outside, rather than some mysterious town car, but I force myself to consider since a car service like Uber is seemingly friendlier, it could be intentional, a way for the person who invited me to set my mind at ease so I’ll actually get in the car.
“Who hired you?” I ask the driver as soon as I climb in the back.
“Lady, I just go where they tell me.”
He doesn’t say another word to me the entire drive to Worcester. I still tip him generously even though he assured me he’d been compensated. Although the music in the dive bar is loud enough to be heard from the parking lot, the lack of cars, even for a Tuesday night, is concerning. Assuming this was going to be some big to-do was clearly a mistake, but I let my high-heeled shoes carry me inside anyway. I’m not going to miss free drinks for anything.
These people inside must’ve traveled together because dozens of smiling and half-drunk faces look my way when I enter the bar. Women dressed in tiny strips of clothing filter through big men wearing leather cuts. I have no firsthand knowledge of bikers, but everything I’ve read and heard about the guys in this area say they’re nothing but trouble.
My smile grows as I walk deeper into the room. These guys are clearly used to women throwing themselves at their feet because even though I’m dressed to the nines with tons of skin showing, some don’t even bat an eye when I saunter past them on my way to the bar.
“Tough crowd,” I murmur as I wave down a waitress and order a tray of shots.
Men hate to see a woman drinking alone, and I know just how to lure in the most dangerous ones.
Just as promised, the bartender doesn’t ask for money, but I shove a twenty in her tip jar anyway. Wasting daddy’s money is the least I can do for the way he treated me on Seth’s birthday. I toss back a shot, and when the guilt doesn’t wash away with it, I tilt another one up. The waitress only smiles and replaces the two empties with two new ones.
“Be careful in here,” she warns. “These guys are bad fucking news.”
She tilts her head as if indicating I should look behind me, but I give her a bright smile. “My favorite kind of men.”
I walk away, carrying the tray loaded with shots to an empty pub table near the dance floor. Several women are dancing seductively, putting on a show for a couple of guys paying them attention. I swear if there was a pole in the middle of the room, they’d all be fighting over it. That thought only makes me smile harder because men watching easy women are the ones I’m after.
“Party favor?” I grin when a tiny bag of coke is shoved in my face, but only because of the drugs. I’ve been hungry for a line for days, but it’s a female offering me the coke, not a man with ulterior motives. I don’t turn her down because there’s still the chance she was sent by one of the guys in here to get me loosened up. Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. A shiver runs down my spine, but I push the memories away.
“What do I owe you?” I reach into the small pocket of my jeans, but her hand covers mine before I can pull cash out of it.
“Girls don’t pay here.”
I look at her, shocked, and a little turned on by her sultry voice, which is curious because I’ve never been attracted to a woman before. Granted, I’m rarely attracted to anyone, and the pull I get at parties has more to do with the possibility of getting hurt than the looks of the person doing the damage. I’m met with vibrant blue eyes and a grinning smile.
“I’m Xena.” She offers me her hand, and I take it. When she pulls hers away, the tiny little baggie of coke is left in my palm.
“Thanks, but I don’t have—”
“Here,” she offers pulling a small mirror and rolled up bill from her purse.
“Are you here to butter me up so one of the guys can swoop in and fuck me?”
She seems like the kind of girl that appreciates honesty, and I just can’t seem to keep my mouth shut tonight, which is unusual for me. Normally, I want to be left alone to get high while others circle me like prey. My need to socialize tonight is why the Uber driver refusing to chat irritated me so much.