Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Daddy, Morgan cooked dinner. Don’t be a dick,” Brooke chastises with her hand on her hip.
“We were just leaving,” I stammer.
“You should be gone. I’ll play babysitter for your kid sister, but coming home to you in my kitchen is a no go. Don’t let it happen again.” He starts to turn away while my blood boils.
“Excuse me! No one asked you to play babysitter, protector, provider, or a damn thing.” My sister gasps at my outburst as I take off the apron I am still wearing. “We are leaving, don’t you fret about that. You won’t find me in your kitchen again, either, so no worries there.”
Tossing the apron on the counter, I hug Brooke quickly while Madyson is gathering her stuff. After pulling away, I watch as the man known as Ice stands completely still, taking me in. His gaze is so strong I feel like he is devouring me, and I am not completely sure he is doing it in a bad way.
I stomp past him, making sure to bump into him, and once I make it just beyond his reach, I turn back around. “Dinner is on the stove. Choke on the cookie when you eat it later, asshole,” I add, feeling slightly crazed.
Chapter
7
Ice
One month later…
Three strippers were fired for popping positive on their drug tests. Crissy is on top of it. During our routine screens of the girls, we found one of the other girls is knocked up. I wish I could say the hiring process is the fun part of my job, but sadly it isn’t; it is a constant fucking headache.
Hammer, Coal, and Skid sit in front of the main stage with me as we get ready to start auditions. The flooring around us is either black stained wood or a steel gray carpet, depending on where you are in the club. The walls are painted a soft dove gray, but to the casual observer, it would be hard to tell with the blue and purple neon lights everywhere. The comfortable black leather chair with silver studs allows me sit back so I am in a somewhat sprawled position and give off the façade that this audition is a waste of my time. It is our standard reception.
We give every woman who walks through our doors, looking for a job, the impression there is always something better to do than be in the same room with them. It is better to teach them from the get go that we don’t have time for their bullshit.
As the petite bottle-blonde shifts her feet nervously on our main stage that runs across the back wall of our club, I feel my left eye twitch in irritation. The bright lights we use during cleaning are on instead of the dim, more sensual lighting used while the club is open. We need to be able to see the women and every flaw they may have if they are going to work here in any capacity.
One would be surprised how much dim overhead lights and bright neon colored lights along the stages can hide imperfections on a girl. No man wants to get hard for a woman dancing on the stage only to find out she is butt ugly when he waves her over for a private lap dance. At least, no sober man, that is. The drunk men probably don’t care if a wrinkled up shrew is wiggling on their lap as long as they have beer googles on.
Sighing in boredom, I cross my foot over one leg as I look over to Hammer, who is tapping one of his boots on the black stained floors while he analyzes the woman in front of us. I am always thankful I have my brothers with me for this crap. It is good to have their opinions on the girls who can barely hold my attention. Not to mention, I have better shit to do than sit here for a woman who I am ninety percent sure won’t be able to get a randy teenager hard with her dance. Still, our little After Midnight aunt seems adamant that we give the too tiny looking woman a chance. Fuck me, sometimes Crissy and her bleeding heart drive me nuts. We don’t hire anyone that she doesn’t find for us. Women try to get jobs by coming directly to us, but we want to know the story behind the body. Crissy does this and brings us the girls who need more than a job in the bigger picture of things.
Glancing back to the opposite end of the club, I think about getting myself a glass of whiskey. It might help me get through this nonsense. However, I know the boys and I have other shit to do today, the sort of work that requires a clear head and possibly my Glock if we end up in a bad spot.