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“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“By order of Grizz,” she says, shaking her head in irritation.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. He left me strict instructions to send your clients to the other girls,” she slams her magazine shut, “like they haven’t been covering for you enough.”
“What?” I screech. “I need the money.”
“Oh, he took care of that,” she says. “He covered what you would’ve made and then some. He must’ve left a grand in your pot.”
I rush out to the reception area and grab my pot. We charge set fees and the club takes twenty percent. Our money is put into our own pots along with any tips. I pull out the roll of notes. “Jesus,” I mutter. “What the fuck is his problem?”
“Maybe he’s got the hots for you,” Thalia singsongs. “It’s about time he settles down.”
“No, it’s not that,” I say on a sigh, keeping the money and heading back upstairs. I’m not sure what his game is, but it’s definitely not that.
Four
GRIZZ
“You sure this is okay?” I ask, unlocking The Bar and letting Danii go inside ahead of me.
“It’s fine,” she says. “Who wants a posh dinner in a restaurant when you can have a drink here?”
I groan. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”
She laughs as I take her coat and place it on a bar stool. “No, honestly, it’s fine. We said a drink, right, and this is a drink.”
I pull out a chair, and she lowers into it. “Red or white?” I ask, grabbing a bucket and filling it with ice.
“White,” she replies, and I grab a bottle from the fridge to pour her a glass. I stick the bottle in the bucket and carry them over to her. Placing the glass down and the bucket in the stand beside her, I whip out my lighter and light the candle between us. She flutters her lashes. “Candles? How romantic,” she teases.
I go back over to the bar and measure myself a glass of whiskey. “So, confession time,” I tell her, “I’ve never done this.” I join her back at the table and lower into the seat opposite. “Dates aren’t really my thing.”
She gasps in mock horror. “You’re kidding, I’d never have guessed.” She leans her elbows on the table and stares me in the eyes. “So, why did you agree?”
“I don’t know,” I admit with a laugh. “Something about you.”
She groans. “Oh god, that’s so cliché.”
“It is,” I agree, “but hear me out.” She gives a nod, still looking amused. “Life in the MC isn’t like life out here.”
“Out here?” she repeats, arching a brow. “You sound like you’re at war.”
I give a humourless laugh. “Sometimes, but that’s not what I mean. There are women on tap. I can click my fingers and get a woman, and that’s not me being big-headed, it’s just the life.”
“Are you trying to warn me you’re a player?”
I shrug. “I’m saying I’ve never needed to look elsewhere. But then you kind of popped up and it’s made me think.”
“Of?”
I take a drink of my whiskey to avoid the conversation getting deep. “For that answer, you’ll need to have a few more dates with me.”
She smiles wider, showing her perfect white teeth and cute dimples. “If that’s your way of asking me out again, we’ll have to wait and see how this pans out.”
We talk, and it’s nice to have a normal conversation about life and plans without it involving the shit from the club. She clears the bottle of wine before calling it a night, and I offer to walk her home. She doesn’t live far, so within five minutes, we’re standing outside her townhouse like teenagers, unsure of what comes next.
