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I didn’t look at Nicky because I thought I might cry. Instead, I stared into Tony’s eyes and spoke through gritted teeth.
“My father owed him seventy-five thousand dollars,” I said. “I gave my father the money to settle the debt, but now he wants it all. He said that if I don’t give him the entire two-hundred-thousand dollars he will kill my father and kill me.”
Tony rolled his eyes. His bodyguard moved to stand behind me. Tony nodded at the briefcase and said, “So, is that my money?”
“Hold on a second,” Nicky said, holding out a hand. “That’s not your money. It’s hers. It’s her cut of the auction.”
“Actually, cuz, it’s mine,” Tony said. He folded his arms over his chest and glared at me. I could feel the hot breath of his bodyguard on my neck. I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see if Nicky was going to step in. He was still standing a few feet from me, not moving as if his feet were cemented to the ground.
Tony shook a finger at me and said, “Your old man obviously forgot that there was interest on the balance. The original amount was seventy-five-grand, but that was two months ago. Now, it’s two-hundred. Next week it’ll be two-fifty. Now, you can give me the money or I can have Jimmy pound it out of your old man. Or, you can work off his debt dancing here. You gotta nice ass and a good rack. And Nicky tells me you fuck like a machine, so you’ll probably work it off in no time.”
“Did you say that?” I asked, gazing into Nicky’s eyes, no longer able to hold back the tears.
“Of course he did,” Tony said with a laugh. “He said for a virgin you were one hell of a piece of ass and you sucked a cock like a pro. In fact, he said you were right up there in his top one hundred best fucks ever.”
“Shut up, Tony,” Nicky snapped. He looked at me with guilty eyes. “Katrina, I didn’t mean that. It was just talk, like locker room bullshit. You know how I feel about you.”
“Do I?” I asked, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Oh my god, you were just using me. You’re in on this, aren’t you?”
“What? No, that’s insane.”
“God, I was such a fool.” I stared into Nicky’s eyes and suddenly realized that the connection I thought we had was nothing more than a silly, vulner
able girl falling for the first white knight that rode past her door. Only this white knight had a black heart. God, what a fool I had been. A blanket of shame fell over me. It was all I could do not to drop to my knees and wail.
“That money does not belong to you,” Nicky said, facing Tony with his hands on his hips. I took it to mean that he thought the money rightfully belonged to him.
“You paid for her cherry, cuz, and got more than what you bargained for,” Tony said, wagging a finger at Nicky. He directed the finger toward me. “Her old man owes me money and she wants to cover his debt, so that’s my money. End of discussion.”
“That’s not your money,” Nicky said again, taking a step toward me and reaching for the case.
Tony snapped his fingers. “Jimmy. Get the goddamn briefcase.”
I suddenly found myself being torn between Nicky and the guy called Jimmy. I did my best to hold onto the briefcase long enough to open the latches, then shook it in the air. Twenty dollar bills went everywhere and all hell broke loose. Tony was scrambling to gather up the money. I fell backward just as Nicky and the muscle head went at it with fists flying and bottles breaking.
I stumbled back away from the table. Nicky and Jimmy were locked together like two awkward dancers. They fell sideways onto the table and Tony screamed bloody murder. The air was filled with twenty-dollar bills, over six thousand of them. In a screaming mass, everyone who was nearby lunged for the table, grasping for handfuls of cash.
“What the fuck, Kat?”
I turned to Bethany, who was standing beside me with her tits hidden behind the tray and a dumbfounded look on her face.
“Ten thousand of that belongs to you,” I said, tossing the empty briefcase to the floor. “Your commission for referring me to The Virgin Auction. You’d better get in there before it’s gone.”
I walked away without another word.
I hoped I’d seen the last of anyone with the last name D’Angelo.
Katrina
“It’s a good crowd for a Saturday,” my dad said as he set four glasses of draft beer on the bar and wiped his hands on the bar rag he kept tucked in his back pocket. “This keeps up, we might be able to afford meatloaf twice a week.”
I rolled my eyes at him as I loaded the beers onto a serving tray. “Will we ever be able to afford anything better than meatloaf?” I asked playfully.
He grinned at me. “Will you ever learn to cook anything other than meatloaf?”
“Probably not,” I said, hefting the tray onto my shoulder and balancing it with one hand. “I need four tequila shots and four Rolling Rocks for table three.”
“Hey, think positive,” he said, tapping the tip of thumb to the side of his head. “One day we will have steak.”
