Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Stalking up to the table, I push my way between them and look Mr. Handsy straight in the eye. I would call him Mr. Stinky, but I’m trying to be a better person, so Handsy will have to do. Louise stands behind me as I pat his shoulder.
“What drinks you after now?” I smile at him, and one hand goes around my waist as he pulls me to him. I feel his tiny cock, which is hard, touch my belly, and I try not to be sick at the thought.
Disgusting.
“Come home with me. I’ll tip you again.”
“That’s a no, sir. Now, what I can get you is any drink you desire.” I go to pull away again, and he keeps me in his arms. Just as I’m thinking of kicking him in the balls, his hand is off me, and he cries out in pain, rocking back.
“She asked you to… remove… your… hand.” Mr. I like to dress in all black and ask you weird questions on top of being a total babe is tightly gripping my customer’s hand.
“Let him go,” I tell him.
My customer, who is clearly drunk, starts swearing, but the man pays no attention as he stares at me while holding Mr. Handsy’s arm in a vice-like grip.
“Do you want me to break his hand?”
“No. Now drop it.” My mouth hangs open in surprise, especially when he does as I ask, and the groping dude pulls his hand to his chest.
“Fuck! I was only having fun with her. What does it matter to you? She’s a whore anyway.” I watch as Mr. I like to dress in black turns his focus on my customer. He steps toward him with nothing but venom in his eyes. A smart woman would never get in the way of a man who can glare at someone like that—as if he could kill you in the blink of an eye.
Maybe he can for all I know.
I quickly put myself between them and touch his chest, tapping it with my hand. “Come on, big man, let’s get you a drink and back to your table.”
His eyes flick to me, and he steps back. “You will not come back over here again.” I huff at his words, and he locks eyes with me and leans in, growling. “Or I will kill him for touching you.”
Ah, what?
His words shock me.
To the damn core.
So much so that I stare at him, speechless, like some school girl.
“Zuko, come on, man. Let’s drink. We’re celebrating,” Grayson says.
Zuko.
It can’t be.
Can it?
But how many other people have that name?
It’s unique, right?
Zuko steps back again and goes to leave, and I follow, watching him from behind as he walks to his table, but I keep heading straight to the bar.
What are the odds that he could be the same Zuko who calls me?
Slim, right?
I mean, he could live anywhere in the world.
So what are the chances we live in the same city?
And are now in the same room?
Slim?
Shit.
Is that my Zuko?
And then I remember that voice.
And it all makes sense.
He is him.
And he doesn’t realize it’s me.
And all I can think is thank fuck for that.
FIVE
Zuko
“What is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you get involved in that shit?” Kyson asks, shaking his head, as I watch her walk to the bar. “Fuck, just go down there and tell her you want to fuck her already.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
She comes back to our table, holding a new bottle in her hand. Her eyes check everywhere but me as she serves. When she’s done filling the glasses of the other guys, she leaves without even offering me anything.
I watch as she disappears before her friend, the other waitress, comes over.
“Oh, you’ve pissed her off,” Louise says as she steps up and as she goes to pour my drink her face flushes red as she looks down not making eye contact. I stop her by placing my hand over the glass.
“Where is she?”
“Drink?” she asks as she glances around.
“Where is she, and why are you serving me?” I urge her.
“She needs tips, and you guys aren’t tipping,” she answers truthfully.
“Well, shit,” Grayson mutters.
“Send her over.” I sit back, holding my glass. “Now.”
She scurries off, and not even ten minutes later, Alaska arrives. Her lilac hair hangs down her back, and her eyes, which almost match the color of her hair, stop on me.
“You requested me?” she asks, hand on hip.
“Yes.” I pull out my credit card and show it to her. She looks at it, confused, before meeting my eyes again.
“You want another drink?” She takes the card from me.
“No, I don’t drink,” I reply. She squints suspiciously at the empty glass in my hand.
Kyson drank it. I just took it back so she would serve me again.
“Okay then…” She holds up the card. “What am I meant to do with the card?”