Page 34 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Only a couple of them might have actually wanted her to show up to supply their little party, but once it got going, every single one of them would be shelling out cash. It never failed.

“Catty!”

Catherine smiled at the call of her name, and waved a hand as she approached the group. There were far more VIPs in the upstairs loft, but she was only there to deal with her particular group. For now, anyway.

“I heard somebody wanted to party,” Catherine said.

Jonas, the reality TV child, threw his head back with a laugh. “Do you have my usual?”

“I’ve got everything.”

Cocaine.

Ecstasy.

Molly.

Those were the favorites of this bunch, usually.

Catherine charged double, and sometimes triple, the drugs’ street value simply because she could. The product was excellent, it was her, and she catered to their natures and lifestyles.

They paid.

The spoiled ones always did.

That was all that mattered.

“Let’s party,” one of the Ken-doll look-a-likes said to the girl on his arm.

“Yes, let’s do that,” Catherine said with a smile.

They said party.

She heard money.

Catherine stared at her reflection in the club’s bathroom mirror, and ignored the giggling, drunk group of girls at the other end of the line of sinks. She touched up her lipstick, and then brushed a small streak of white powder off her black dress.

She was done with the people upstairs for the night, and ready to go home. After her session with Cara a week before, Catherine had been trying to focus on getting ready for her full-time classes to start again. Come Monday, she would be sitting in lecture halls and working on things that bored the hell of out her.

Yet, she didn’t have the nerve to quit.

Not entirely.

Quitting would mean explaining to her parents what she planned on doing, or rather, what she already had been doing for almost a decade. It would mean explaining how she learned to hide dirty money by buying expensive, luxury clothes, bags, and shoes just to get rid of it. It would mean confessing she had learned how to launder her drug money by the time she was twenty-one in businesses she had invested in using the trust fund her parents made for her.

Catherine wasn’t ready for those conversations.

Not yet.

Sighing, she pushed away from the sink and headed for the bathroom door. The drunk giggles of the girls echoed behind her, but they didn’t follow. She peeked her head out the door, and looked down the dark hall toward the back offices. A couple of the bouncers stood with their back turned to her, chatting. A couple just a few feet away from them were kissing against the wall.

Catherine stepped out of the bathroom only to find she should have looked down the other way, too. One of the guys from the VIP loft that had enjoyed a little bit too much cocaine was waiting for her. He crowded Catherine against the wall before she even knew what was happening.

His cocaine-blown pupils looked down at her. “There you are, girl.”

This shit sometimes happened. More often than Catherine liked. Part of her thrall, especially with guys, was the way they liked her to act. Flirting, smiling, and all that nonsense. Sometimes the men understood it was just a part of her game, but other times they took it too far.

Truth was, she learned it was the shitty nature of the business. She also learned how to take care of herself in these goddamn situations.