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“Yeah, you do. Now what about your office crush? What was his name again? Tim?”
“Tom. It was Tom. But he turned out to be a douche.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Onward.” Nelle raised her beer glass. “Anyway, your mom would be proud of your commitment.”
A thud landed in my stomach. Would she be proud of her daughter investigating a sex club?
“Yeah, I hope so.” I stared at the sweat ring my beer had left on the bar.
“Of course she would be. She’d be proud of the life you and your dad have built. Speaking of which...how is your handsome father?” Her eyes widened.
“My dad is great. You know him. He doesn’t mind my crashing at the house. In fact, I think he likes it. And it’s nice to have some time with him after being away at school. Not that I could afford to move out, anyway...”
“Hey, don’t despair,” Nelle said, placing a hand on my arm. “You’ll be making more money in no time. We’ll get a place together.”
“Easy for you to say, Miss Finance Major. You’ve got a great job in banking. But the journalism route does not pay quite as well.”
There could be some pretty sweet perks, though. The kind only an exclusive club offered. And I was determined to enjoy them.
Chapter 13
Varden
I was still busting my ass at the office at seven thirty p.m. when a text finally arrived from Saffi.
Jesus, what was I doing, playing with fire like this?
It was early yet for Club Silk, but I steered my Audi in its direction, anyway. I could get there early, have a drink or two with Miss M, and leave my world behind. No one would need anything from me—not work, not my brother—no one.
It wasn’t as though I didn’t remember the tough years with Beau’s and my alcoholic asshole of a father. On the contrary, those fucked-up memories, most days, were only inches away from my consciousness. But I’d manage to achieve enough, both personally and professionally, to have gotten some perspective on that time. Now if only I could have that same influence on Beau, who’d taken the brunt of the family shitshow. As the first in the family to make it to college, I was out of the house when things had gotten their worst. Beau had had to face it all on his own. For that, I’d never forgive myself. He’d been paying for it ever since.
The gift that kept on giving.
I parked a half block from the club. Close, but also far enough to assess the neighborhood, which could be dicey. And most importantly, to watch the comings and goings.
While I cooled my heels, I scrolled through my text messages. Saffi’s had been noncommittal as hell. Leave it to a newspaper reporter to not give anything away.
Who knew whether she’d be there later? It would be nice, sure. She was a total hottie with that long, dark hair and pretty, round ass. And the way she’d responded to me. I got hard just thinking about it. But in her absence, I’d probably just hit on someone else unless someone got to me first. I could be an asshole that way.
Why the fuck was I even thinking about her? Maybe I saw something of myself in her, how she was determined
to make her own way?
Whatever.
I rang the club’s bell as soon as my mask was on.
Miss M stood before me in another of her slinky gowns—this time blue—her signature long hair in waves and bright red lips. Being greeted at the door was a nice perk, even if she was a little over the top with drama.
“G! So good to see you,” she purred, kissing the lips of my mask. She hooked her arm in mine, and we headed for the bar.
“What can I get you, my friend?” she asked, head tilted.
“Thanks. I’ll have my usual. A bourbon. On the rocks.”
She waved over the bartender, who was still setting up for the evening. “Two bourbons, please.”
She leaned back against the bar, propping her elbows on the surface behind her. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”
