Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“No, baby girl.” His chuckles fan my cheeks with hot air. “That’s the ten percent you’ll lose if you choose cash.”
“That can’t be right. There’s no way I made five figures in one night.”
“Pussies are expensive.” He does a head clicky thing before adding, “I’ve been saving up for one for donkeys.” His expression reveals how excited he is to begin transitioning before he brings us back to reality with a stern tsk. “So, baby girl, cash or direct deposit?”
“Cash, please.” Depositing ninety-nine percent of it into the glove box of Alek’s car will be the only way he will accept a refund, so I have to carry over twenty thousand dollars from one side of town to the next. I ran into Ilya yesterday. He said Alek still hadn’t collected his car. He is considering charging an impound fee. “This is your share of my tips.” I dig a measly couple of bills out of the pocket of my denim jeans to hand them to Jax. “I only served a couple of rounds before…” I wave my hand to the room I vacated only minutes ago like it will explain what I mean.
“Honey, you can keep it. Where do you think a majority of the ten percent surcharge goes?” Jax whistles out while handing me the biggest bundle of cash I’ve ever handled. “Do you want one of the guys to walk you out?” He drags his head to the left before slinging it to the right. “I’m sure I can find someone.”
“It’s fine. I can handle it.”
He angles his head and cocks a brow. “You sure? That’s a lot of money.”
“Positive.” After grabbing my things from the change room, I dump the bundles into the bottom of my backpack, then cover it with a sweater. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Ahhh…” When I spin to face Jax, he twists his lips. “I don’t have any vacant shifts tomorrow.”
We’ve only just met, so I can’t call him out as a liar, but I have a feeling he’s being deceitful. “Sunday?”
“We’re closed Sundays.” Before I can display just how desperate I am, he advises, “And Mondays are dead. We only just cover the bar staff.”
“Tuesday?” I sound like a loser.
“Tuesday…” He flicks through an imaginary planner before bobbing his head. “Yeah, Tuesday works. I’ll see you Tuesday.”
I issue my thanks with a smile before heading for the closest exit. I’m partway through it when Jax shouts, “If you happen to find anything else before Tuesday, give me a call so I can fill your shift.”
I’m highly doubtful anything will pop up, but I give him my assurance with a wave before stepping into the bitterly cold morning air. It is so damn freezing, I am tempted to yank out the sweater hiding the bundle of bills in my backpack for some extra warmth. The only reason I won’t is because the zipper is busted so anyone can peer inside.
I won’t make it three blocks if people learn how much money I’m carrying.
This amount of money could change someone’s life. It could mine as well, but only if I am willing to place my father’s debt back onto his shoulders.
Since I’m not, I adjust my grip on my backpack and continue my walk.
I’m halfway to The Penthouse when I can’t ignore my intuition for a second longer. I’m being tailed. It just isn’t from the man I’m anticipating.
“If you were watching where you’re going instead of ten places in front of you, you would have avoided that.” I spin to face Yev, who is smearing dog poo from his loafers back onto the sidewalk. “When did you start wearing loafers?”
He shakes his foot firm enough to dislodge the last clump of poo before joining me further up the sidewalk. “You don’t like them? I think they make me look sophisticated.”
“They make you look old.”
With a grin, he barges me with his shoulder before shadowing my walk at my side instead of several steps back. “So you’re telling me I’m in with a chance?” When I groan, he mutters, “What? You’ve always had a thing for older men.”
“Alek. I had a thing for Alek, and he’s not that much older than us.”
He makes our age gap seem far worse than it was when he murmurs, “Say that to a sixteen-year-old eyeing a six-year-old.” He coughs out his last words, his snicker breathless since I winded him with a sock to the stomach. “You both still hit just as hard as each other.”
His reply freezes me in my tracks. “Alek hit you?” When he grins and nods, I stammer out, “When? Why?” My concern seems nowhere near as serious when I ask, “Was it closed fist or open?”
Yev loops his arm around my elbow and continues our trek while replying, “I dodged his open-handed fist.” He angles his head so I can see the bruise fading under his eye. “Wasn’t so lucky with the second swing.”