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“Where's Sasha?” he asked, meeting my gaze with a cocky-ass grin I want to smack off his dumb looking face.
“She's on break,” I lied, feigning a smile. “So, you have me now.”
“That's fine with me,” No Neck said, giving me a once over, his eyes sliding up and down my body so intently I could almost feel the touch. “I like curvy brunettes as much as I like petite blondes.”
As he spoke, he reached out and stroked my dark brown hair, twirling it around his thick fingers. Everything about this guy was huge. From his chest to his hands, he was one of the largest, most muscular men I'd ever seen in real life. He was like a paler version of the Incredible Hulk or something.
I ignored his comment, moved my head so I could get his fingers out of my hair, and returned to handing out the drinks to his party.
No Neck asked, “What's your name?”
“Casey,” I answered.
“Do you know who I am, Casey?”
I smiled sweetly, placing the now empty tray down on the table, and faced No Neck.
“I assume you're someone important. Probably someone who thinks very highly of himself,” I said. “But I have a feeling you're goi
ng to tell me exactly who you are.”
The guys around him laughed uncomfortably. One patted him hard on the back.
“She got you, Johnny-boy,” he beamed.
No Neck, otherwise known as Johnny, cringed. As he looked at me, he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. I turned to leave, but he grabbed hold of my arm, forcing me to turn back around and meet his gaze. He was clearly not amused by my antics.
“I'm Jon Lincoln,” he hissed. “Does that name ring a bell, now?”
“Ah yes, it does,” I said, slipping my arm free from his grasp. I smiled, leaning toward him. “I've read all about you.”
Jon Lincoln was a football player, for either the Rams or the Chargers – one of the LA teams. I couldn't keep them straight. Honestly, I never really cared for football. I just knew the name. More than that though, I knew his reputation, and it wasn't a good one.
I knew I should stop myself. Knew I should have just walked away right then and there. But, the little devil that sat on my shoulder – I'm relatively certain he killed the angel because there was no balance there – egged me on. My mouth was open, and the words were falling out before I could even think to stop them.
“I hear you like to beat women, Johnny-boy,” I said. “A big, strong man like you against your five-foot-three fiancé? No wonder she ended up in ICU. You must be very proud of yourself for handling such a big threatening girl like that.”
His face dark with rage, Jon stood up, nearly knocking the table over with him as he moved. He was at least six-foot-five, if not taller, and had at least two hundred pounds on me. He could have crushed me like a grape with one hand if he wanted to. But, if there's one thing I don't do, I don't back down.
Men like him don't scare me. Especially in public. As I stared up at the mammoth man, not flinching, and not giving an inch of ground, a voice called to me from behind. My boss.
“Casey, come here, will ya?”
I winked at Jon and his friends, “Sorry, I have to get back to work,” I said. “I don't make millions of dollars playing a game.”
I turned to leave, and Jon reached out for me again. This time, I was expecting it and dodged his grip, waltzing over to my boss, Leon-- Tommy's father. He was standing there with his hands on his hips and a frown that went all the way up to his eyes. He was shaking his head. He didn't look happy.
“What is it?” I asked, giving him my most innocent, doe-eyed look.
“Were you antagonizing our VIP again?”
“No,” I scoffed. “Me?”
Though I knew if given a chance, Jon Lincoln would have a different story to tell. I just hoped Leon didn't ask him, because even though that massive pig bastard was way in the wrong, Leon was always going to err on the side of his paying customers. Especially customers like Jon Lincoln, who made millions of dollars each and every year, and spent a good chunk of it in this bar. “We were just messing around,” I said. “Telling some jokes. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Entertain the customers?”
Leon looked past me at the table of VIPs, then back to me again. He was not buying it. Shit.
“What have I told you about your attitude, Casey?”
