“You have five minutes before I tear down your club,” I growl, ending the call.
A few minutes later, Denis returns, pointing his Glock at an average-height, stocky Mexican man with a goatee and thick black glasses.
“Boss, I found this suka in the storage room,” Denis hums, staring at the man.
“Who the fuck are you, and make it quick before I blow your head off,” I snarl, pointing my gun at his face.
“I’m the manager, Jose Garcia,” Jose says in a low voice.
“What the hell! Were you hiding from us,” I hiss, lowering my eyelids.
“No, I was taking inventory. I don’t know who you are,” Jose says, pushing his eyeglasses up his nose with his stubby finger.
“Fuentes will be here shortly. Tie him up,” I hiss, looking around the office.
Four
Georgina
Finally, after playing it safe, we decided to go to the new hot Fuego Club to celebrate our passing the final. I’m so excited and can’t wait to have some fun with my chicas.
“Chica, you look hot in that dress,” Marissa hums, spraying perfume on her neck.
I look in the mirror and turn to look at my back to see if it looks good. Yeah, I’m curvy, and this dress clings and shimmers as I move. It’s a dark, rich red mini bodycon dress with an exposed back and crossing straps. I love it.
“Yes, I love the dress,” I say, adjusting my boobs.
I have good size boobs, and they look good. I mess with my hair and grab my bracelets from my dresser, sliding them on. I love my bracelets, and these are my favorite. They’re seven Sterling Silver Semanario stacking bracelets. It was a gift from my Mama on my birthday.
“Gigi, I love those bracelets! I want some,” Heather says, pulling on her shoes.
“Hell yes, I want some,” Marissa says.
“Yeah, I’ll ask my Mamma where she got them,” I say, smiling.
“Awesome, I’m ready, let's go,” Heather says, grabbing her crossbody purse.
“Yeah, let’s go, but let’s take an Uber because I want to have some drinks,” I hum, grabbing my crossbody purse.
“Sounds like a plan,” Heather says.
“Don’t forget to stay close because I don’t want that son of bitch trying to take you,” Marissa utters, grabbing my arm; she looks at me, raising her brow.
“Gigi, you gotta stay close,” Heather huffs, stopping to look back.
“No worries.”
“Right, let me call the Uber,” Marissa hums, pulling her cell from her jacket pocket.
The Uber shows up and takes us to the club, and the line is so damn long. We get out of the car and walk to the line.
“I hope it doesn’t take us long to get into the club,” Heather says, grabbing her bag.
“Yeah, we’ll get in, no worries,” I hum.
We get in line, and I look at the time. I hope it doesn’t take long to get in.
A minute later, the guard walks down the line, points at me and the girls, and tells them to go to the open door. He gets to us, lifts his chin, and points to the door.
