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Maybe I should deliberately break a glass in my sink tonight. Niall says he won’t be around, but that probably means at Oracle. I wonder if he’ll still come by my apartment to do chores.
Fiona slumps onto the bench next to me, her lacy lingerie in her hand. Around us, strippers in various states of undress are doing their hair and makeup.
“Ronan Murphy is officially ruining my life,” Fiona grumbles, holding up the lingerie to examine it. “Do you think I’ll get lots of tips in this?”
Distracted from my plotting, I let my eyes run over the outfit and snort.
“Since the bra cups are actually see-through, yeah, I think you’ll clean up.”
Fiona nods, sighing and tipping her head onto my shoulder.
“How is Ronan ruining your life?”
She drops her hands and the lingerie back into her lap.
“Ever since he’s taken over the fucking scheduling, my earnings have gone to shit,” Fiona snipes. “One set a night, VIP room only. No lap dances or floor work,andI’m not allowed to go topless on stage.”
Well, that explains the see-through bra.
“It’s so fucking shit!” she whines. “I’m worried I’m not going to be able to make rent this week.”
“Maybe I could get you some waitressing work to make up the difference?” I murmur sympathetically. Fiona’s head whips around, her eyes promising murder.
“I’m a stripper, not a fucking waitress. Besides, I won’t give the bastard the fucking satisfaction. Idon’tneed saving, and he can take his saintly bullshit and shove it so far up his ass he can taste it in the back of his throat!”
Lovely. What a visual. Shoving off the bench, Fiona quickly strips, donning her barely-there outfit, striking a pose for me while I wolf whistle.
“Ronan wants to see you, Fiona,” Carmen calls to her. “Seamus’s office.”
“Of course he fucking does.” Fiona wrinkles her nose, reaching for a robe. Idly, I wonder if Ronan was in the shootout with Niall. Maybe he wants to see Fiona for the same reason Niall needed to see me.
Her fingers brush against her silky robe, but she changes her mind, leaving it hanging on the back of her makeup chair. Throwing her hair over her shoulder, Fiona throws me a smirk, strutting out of the room in all her see-through glory.
Whatever he thinks of her strutting her stuff into his office like that, Ronan won’t like her wearing it on stage. At all.
Chapter Eighteen
MELLIE
It’s the start of July, which means the fourth of July fireworks and the anniversary of my father’s death. I don’t give a shit about the fireworks, but on the anniversary on the second, Fiona and I get wasted. We don’t even do it at Oracle.
Tiggy doesn’t come because she was involved in that fucking shootout last week and got shot through the shoulder. I’m still freaking pissed at Niall for getting into a shootout, even though I couldn’t tell him I was still pissed because of it. He’s been away from Oracle doing his errands for the Fitzpatrick. His absence hasn’t been making my mood any better.
“If Tiggy was here, she could have case workered your fucking ass.” Fiona squints at me with one eye, motioning that we should shoot more liquor.
I wince as the whiskey burns its way down my throat. “Thisis why you don’t get involved with those Irish boys. Nothing but pain and bullets. Like Tahlie.”
I blink at her in surprise. “Tahlie?” I get us another round of shots. “Didn’t she quit?”
“No,” Fiona snorts. “Shedisappeared.”
She throws me a meaningful look, but I blink at her, confused. Scoffing, Fiona continues.
“You’re too fucking trusting. After I went to Seamus,like you told me to, he went full-blooded psycho on Tahlie’s ass in the dressing room and dragged her downstairs. You know, to the Reaper’s domain.”
I flinch at the implication. “No,” I tell her jerkily. “Niall wouldn’t kill Tahlie.”
The withering look Fiona throws me as she snorts is half pity, half contempt.
