Page 31 of Pretty Lies

SEVEN

WHISKEY ON ICE was a drink Cory didn’t enjoy when he first tried it as a much younger man. Rather, all he understood about the drink was the fact it took a few slams of a whiskey bottle to get him tipsy. The taste and appreciation he had for the aged, amber liquor now, however, couldn’t be matched.

It’s why he liked to start every good evening with a glass of whiskey on ice. He nursed his current lowball, sitting shoulder to shoulder with his older brother in a strip club that offered an interesting view, neon and black lights for ambiance, and brick walls with ornately detailed tapestries that gave the place a rich vibe.

A vibe he didn’t believe to be true, considering the owner of the place was in debt three-hundred grand to a fucking loan shark.

That wasn’t on the docket of business for the evening.

“And that’s it?” Joe asked.

Cory looked over at his brother and nodded. “Yeah, man. That’s the job—watch Della Costello until they figure out who exactly attacked her—they got ideas, but they’re not telling me much about them—and whatever else.”

Joe hummed, absorbing everything Cory had filled him in on with what had happened in his life over the last week. According to his brother when Cory asked earlier about his week so they could catch up as they usually did on Friday nights, his week consisted of little sleep, too much work, and taking Liliana out for dinner because it’d been months since they went out together.

Adulting was hard.

Cory wasn’t here for it at all.

“And this is the place you picked for us to meet up because?”

“Frankie doesn’t want Della to be aware and all, but her daddy knows every, last detail of her business and what she’s been doing because J didn’t hold back when shit went down. He passed the info along to me that this would be on the docket soon. So, yeah. The club’s a work thing—something on her upcoming schedule.”

Joe nodded, tipping his drink back for a swig while his gaze scanned the crowd gathering near a particular stripper’s pole. She could certainly shake her ass. Cory had to give her that. Then again, wasn’t that kind of the point?

“So, you’re scouting the place?” Joe asked.

Cory grinned his brother’s way. “And catching up with you. Been a busy week.”

“That it has. I guess they don’t plan for you to stay under the radar while you’re watching her, huh?”

“Not really.”

It wasn’t like Cory blended in, after all.

“I’m just there to be there and keep anyone from trying shit,” Cory said. “Whether or not they see me while I do it isn’t important.”

“So, is Frankie testing her with you at all?”

“How so?”

“Kind of answers that, then, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “I just thought maybe he didn’t think she was capable of handling her job—wondered if he also had you checking up on that and maybe that’s why you’re here doing the scouting, you know?”

Ah.

Cory sucked air through his teeth in a hiss, considering how he wanted to respond. The men in this life, even his own brother really, were so accustomed to a woman never dipping her hands in business that when they did stumble upon one that was, their curiosity came out to play.

And sometimes their problematic sides, too.

“Actually, no,” Cory settled on saying. “From what he knows, seems she’s made herself known quite well amongst the clients and anyone else that might have a hand in the trade within the city. J’s been less involved over the past little while, but for a bit it was them and her friend—Jennika … that chick, well, I’m not familiar with her, anyway.”

Joe’s brow dipped. “So you’re here … just to scout, like for yourself?”

Cory laughed, a shrug falling from his shoulders. “She’s my job—watch her back. I know she’s going to be coming here, it’s a new strip joint to me, I didn’t know the layout and yeah. I’m doing my fucking job.”