Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 624(@200wpm)___ 499(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“From who?”
“He said it was his daughter. I never even knew he had a kid since he never mentioned it before.”
“Did he say why she was here?”
“Said she was in a bad situation and needed money.”
“What else?”
“I couldn’t get much out of him, but he did say something about a book.”
“A book…”
“Yeah. He said if he could get to it and sell it, then his daughter and grandson could survive.”
I wanted nothing more than to hurl the plastic chair across the room.
Mian Ross was not just a gifted liar. She was fucked, too.
Chapter Ten
Sex pays the bills… unless you’re bad at it.
MIAN
I stared upat the flashing sign lit in a perception of gold. The lettering mirrored the popular casino in Vegas. Taking a deep breath, I wobbled inside Caesar’s Palace on a pair of Brandi’s stilts.
Was I really going to do this?
A couple of shots of whiskey and a bag of Brandi’s tricks ensured I would. I even allowed Brandi to babysit because I couldn’t admit to my best friend that I’d fallen so far that I’d resort to taking my clothes off for a stack of dollar bills.
The first thing I noticed when I walked inside was the thick cloud of smoke. The second was the earsplitting volume of the music and some rapper’s claim that all he wants for his birthday is a big booty hoe.
I wobbled forward until a burly bouncer with midnight skin, a bald head, and a face tattoo smashed his hand into my chest. I careened backward and braced myself for the fall, but a hard warm wall behind me broke my fall. I peeked over my shoulder and found another beefcake standing with his arms crossed.
“Pay the cover.”
“But I…I’m… I—”
“Look, I don’t care how fine you are. You don’t get in without paying the cover.” He held out a beefy hand with his palm up.
“I’m not here to, ummm…”
His bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You here to see Caesar?”
Too ashamed to speak the words, I nodded.
My stomach pitched and turned when he took his time looking me over. Something like approval shone in his eyes, but then his hand lifted from his side to finger the black belt on Brandi’s trench coat I was wearing. I shrunk back.
He snorted then laughed when he noticed my reaction. “Girl, you ain’t here to see no Caesar.” Beefcake number two joined in on the amusement.
“Yes, I am. Are you going to let me in or not?”
“Sure. Sure. I got to see this. Follow me.” With a lift of his chin to his partner, he turned and disappeared into the dark and the smoke. I struggled to keep up. Thankfully, the neon lettering on the back of his shirt guided me through the crowd. It was the fourth of July, and it seemed as if all of Chicago had chosen this place to celebrate. I could smell the booze, sweat, and sex, but was too afraid I’d turn and run if I peeked. When he finally stopped, I noticed it was in front of a purple door with a gold handle. Gold lettering spelled out Caesar’s Throne. Apparently, the sleaze of this place was hidden in plain sight.
Beefcake One knocked three times and then waited dutifully to be permitted entrance.
“I’m busy,” a gruff voice on the other side called.
“Boss, I got a hot one for you.”
There was a pause and then a shuffling followed by heavy footsteps. The door suddenly flew open, and the first thing I noticed was the red silk shirt and chest hair peeking out from underneath. He wasn’t very tall or muscular, so he didn’t intimidate me like Angel’s goonies had. Black slacks covered his legs and were tailored nicely to fit over black wingtips with gold tips. I lifted my gaze to his face and found him checking me out much like I had been doing to him but with a lot of lust. His dark hair was slick from grease and pulled back away from his face. He didn’t look a day over thirty, and I had to admit he had appeal.
If you were into the mobster type.
“What’s your name?” He never took his eyes from my legs when he finally spoke.
“Mian.”
“Not very sexy.” I bit back a smart retort and waited. His gaze finally met mine, and I found his eyes were as dark as his hair. “You don’t talk much. I like that.” He turned into the room and held the door open. “Get in here,” he roughly ordered.
I shuffled inside when I should have strutted and was just thankful his back was turned. The door closed making the music muffled and leaving only the rapid thump of my heart. Feeling a presence behind me, I peeked over my shoulder to see that Beefcake had followed us in with a leer.
“Out, Jones.”