Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“What’s up?” I fish around for another olive. She gently takes my martini glass from me and smiles at everyone.
“We’ll be right back.”
She pulls me into the small, dark bathroom and locks the door. It’s not filthy but not clean either. The mirror is stained a strange burnt orange and the floor is littered with paper seat covers. A dumpy trash can is overflowing with paper towels and God knows what else.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she hisses, almost shaking me. “Are you crazy?”
I sway as I jerk my arm free and steady myself on the wall.
“Okay.” She rubs her temples like she has a headache. “We need to get the fuck out of here. We made a grand, which is fantastic. You’re drunk and it’s late.”
“I have to pee.” I grab a seat cover and sink to the toilet as I close my eyes in bliss. Looking up as I wipe, Cindy is staring at me like I’m an alien or something.
“What?” I snap as I button my jeans and flush. “There is no way I’m going to lose to these guys. Trust me. They’re good but not that good.” I try to look over her shoulder at my reflection in the crappy mirror.
Giving up, I turn to her. “Come on. Don’t you want that thousand dollars?”
She frowns and turns to look at herself in the mirror. “I need the money, Charlize, but I’m starting to get a bad feeling, and I told you about my feelings.” All of a sudden, someone bangs on the door.
“Hurry up, bitches. Some of us need to pee too.”
I start to laugh at poor Cindy’s face. These bikers and their skanky girlfriends don’t scare me.
“Be right out,” I yell and grab Cindy. First, so can she steady me, and second, so I can convince her we’re good. “Stop being such a worrywart.” I can’t help but laugh at the look on her face.
“Holy shit. What has happened to you? If the diner could see you now.” She stares.
“Whatever.” I swing my arm around and unlock the door almost screaming at the mean-looking redhead with stripper clothes and awful makeup.
“About fucking time.”
I start laughing again. I can’t help it. Cindy grabs my arm and propels me to the bar where the bartender from earlier comes over with a large glass of water and our tab.
“You need to take her home. I already called my bosses.” I try to look serious, but all I do is start laughing so hard I accidently spit on her.
“Oh. My. God.” Cindy rolls her eyes, reaching for a cocktail napkin and scribbling a tip as she grabs my card.
“I’m sorry.” I wipe her top. “Listen.” I straighten my shoulders, willing myself not to laugh. “You can leave, but I’m staying. I haven’t been out in months and there is no way I’m passing up a thousand dollars. This will take all of five minutes, for fuck’s sake.”
I turn and weave my way through the crowded bar. A small trickle of unease, maybe it’s more like a tingle of pure adrenaline, runs through me. For a second, I wonder if I should stop. I mean it’s super crowded with bikers and it looks like some of them might be getting ready to have sex in the corner. Jesus, I really am drunk, because that can’t be right. I blink. No, it looks like a guy is getting ready to fuck a girl.
“You ready?” I swing my eyes to the ugly biker.
“Absolutely.”
Again, the catcalls start up. They should be enough to alert my brain that maybe this is not a good idea. Yet I smile, thinking maybe a shot of Jägermeister might work in my favor.
“Do you want to break or should I?” I lower my voice, then almost start laughing as the ugly biker sneers.
“Where’s your friend with the big tits?”
I sigh. They truly are vulgar and I know I told Cindy to go, but I didn’t think she would.
“I’m here, baby.”
I twirl around, and for a second, I see two of Cindy. Maybe I’m fine without the Jäger shot.
I wave my hands, skipping over to her. “Here she is.”
He licks the top of his disgusting lip. It’s covered with a mustache, and he licks the hair.
Oh God. He’s one of those men. Like girls who always eat or suck on a piece of their hair. I fight back a wave of bile.
Just when I decide maybe Cindy and the bartender are right because yeah, I might be drunk, I don’t need the money, and the vibe in the bar has changed, I feel him.
“Let her break.” It’s a demand, and I almost faint. I can’t be hearing correctly. Why? Why did I drink three martinis?
I turn and grab on to the end of the pool table.
I blink. I’m not going crazy.